Page 53 of Bennett

“I’m not leaving her,” Bennett assured.

He didn’t mean for the words to come out that hard.

But Gabe only gave a small nod, then turned and crossed to where Rylee was now guiding Laurel into the bedroom, murmuring something about finding shoes for her bare feet. Laurel glanced back over her shoulder—just for a second—and her gaze collided with Bennett’s.

There was no fire this time. No teasing sarcasm.

Just…trust.

And it landed in his chest like a damn gut punch.

Mac moved beside him, crossing his arms. “You think we’re pushing too hard on the Duke angle?”

Bennett blinked, his eyes still fixed on the hall where Laurel had disappeared. “No. I think we’re not pushing hard enough.”

“We’ve got motive but no evidence.”

“Yet,” Bennett said. “The guy wants this place. Has for years. And now, Annie’s standing in the way of his plan, whatever that might be. But I bet it involves millions.”

“And he’s smart enough to keep his hands clean,” Mac muttered.

Bennett finally looked over at him. “So, we dig until we find the person doing the dirty work.”

Mac’s phone buzzed, and he glanced down. “Hunter’s still tracking footprints out near the alley. He’ll keep going until he loses the trail.”

“Let me know what he finds,” Bennett said.

Mac studied him for a second. “You good?”

Bennett’s jaw ticked. “Define good.”

“Sleeping in a half-finished building, watching over a woman who doesn’t like being told what to do, while also keeping her from becoming collateral damage?”

Bennett huffed out a breath. “Yeah. Just another Tuesday.”

“Right.” Mac clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t get too comfortable. If someone like Duke Carver is behind this, he’s not gonna stop.”

“I’m counting on it,” Bennett said, eyes already drifting back to the hallway again.

Because if the bastard made another move, Bennett would be waiting.

And this time, he wasn’t letting him get close.

***

The door clicked softly behind them as Rylee guided her toward the massive king size bed, centered on the side wall. The air was cooler in here, quieter too, as if the chaos outside had beenmuted by four solid walls. Like this wall, the one with the alley behind it, where some jerk had stood when he threw that damn chunk of concrete.

Laurel's feet moved automatically, but the rest of her was still catching up—her brain fogged, her chest tight, and her pulse thudding like it hadn’t gotten the memo that the threat was gone.

Rylee didn’t speak at first. She just moved around the room, pulling open the closet to grab a folded throw blanket someone had placed on the shelf earlier that day, then crouched to retrieve Laurel’s sneakers from where she’d kicked them off near the nightstand.

“Here,” Rylee said, offering the sneakers with a quiet kind of calm. “Figured glass between the toes wouldn’t help your day.”

Laurel managed a half-smile, sliding her feet in. “Thanks.”

She was acting like a wounded fawn, and God, she hated it, but right now she just needed a few moments to recharge…unfortunately in front of a stranger.

Her gaze roamed over the female investigator. The woman was beautiful, with dark hair and green eyes, and Laurel could definitely see the resemblance to her brothers. There was a confident, capable air about her too. But there was no pity in Rylee’s eyes, just a steady presence.

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