Page 120 of The Case of the Missing Love Stone

“We go together,” I tell Scarlet. “You stay between us, and you don’t approach the box until Tom clears the porch.”

She reaches for my hand. “Agreed.”

Roman takes her other side as we head outside.

Rainwater drips from the greenhouse trellis where the first poisoned bundle waited. The lab has given us proof that the local relief bundles and GatorX are one case. We have lots of questions and no confirmed suspects. Now a second package is waiting at Honey’s home.

Whoever is directing the courier has moved beyond Scarlet’s property and into the lives of the people she loves. That isn’t a theory I’m willing to test twice.

Chapter 28

Roman Osprey

Honey’s house sits beneath two old magnolias, its pale-yellow siding softened by vines and flower boxes overflowing with pink petunias. Rain beads along the porch rail. A pair of muddy work boots waits beside sunflower sandals, close enough that the toes touch.

Tom has closed off the front walk. The florist box remains where the courier left it, surrounded by yellow evidence markers and the clean geometry of an active scene.

Wes parks behind a sheriff’s cruiser and turns toward Scarlet before she can reach for the door. “Stay with us until the porch is cleared.”

She looks past him toward the house. Honey stands inside the open doorway, with her pack at her side.

“I need to see her.”

“You will.” Wes brushes his knuckles along her cheek. “Let Tom finish checking the box first.”

Scarlet searches his face, then nods.

The concession costs her. I feel it in the quickening of her scent and the way her fingers close around the hem of my shirt beneath Wes’s jacket, both of which she is wearing.

I take her hand as we climb out.

Her body carries both of our scents. Cedar lies warm over her skin from sleeping against Wes and wearing his clothes. Cardamom and cinnamon spice cling to her hair, her borrowed shirt, and the place along her neck where I kissed her before we left the cottage. Beneath both, Scarlet remains green herbs, wet earth, and a sweetness that has grown richer over the last several days.

Honey steps as close to the doorway as Tom allows. Her blonde curls are gathered into a loose braid, and she wears a soft blue dress beneath a flour-marked apron. “There you are,” she says, relief softening her voice as she takes a step forward.

Scarlet’s shoulders lower. “Are you all right?”

“I am.” Honey glances behind her. “You already know these two, but they’d like to meet your investigators before Callum decides exactly how close they’re allowed to stand and whether they’ve been properly vetted. He’s already got his own crew across the street keeping watch on the neighborhood.” She reaches back and draws the alpha forward by his hand. “This is Callum, my alpha.”

Callum is broad through the shoulders, with deep-brown skin, closely cropped hair, and a calm presence that holds the doorway without taking it over. He offers Wes his hand first, then mine. “Callum Reed.”

“Wes Osprey.”

“Roman Osprey.”

His grip is firm, his attention direct. Then he turns toward Scarlet, warmth softening his expression. “Good to see you, Scarlet. I wish it were under better circumstances.”

She glances toward the box on the porch. “Sweetheart Haven has poor timing.”

The beta comes forward next, tension riding his shoulders, his dark curls slightly disheveled from running his hands through them.

“And this is Micah,” Honey says. “My beta mate.”

Micah offers his hand. “It’s good to meet you.”

Honey smiles. “They have been taking excellent care of me while pretending not to panic.”

“We are not pretending,” Micah says. “Callum checked every door and window twice.”