I take a sip from a steaming cup of coffee and walk into the station. It’s too hot, and I resist the urge to spit it out. Instead, I swallow it, and the liquid burns all the way down my throat.

Maybe this is a lesson in patience.

I don’t have much of it left. We’re several days into this yacht theft investigation, and I still have almost nothing to go on.

“You look like you’re in a great mood this morning.”

I glance over at James, who stares up at me from behind his desk. I scowl and shrug. I’m allowed to scowl when I’m the one responsible for crime becoming a regular part of this town. “I’m not. We need to take some action today. We need to dig deeper for clues.”

“On the yacht case or the break-in?”

James isn’t up-to-date on Naomi’s situation, so I tell him about the events of the previous night.

Obviously, I leave a few little details out. Like how amazing Naomi’s pussy is when it’s sliding up and down my dick.

James frowns as I give him the details. “So, Naomi is involved in this again. Are you still blind to the fact that she’s behind this?”

That statement puts a stick in my craw, but I let it slide. We need to work together, and we can’t do that if I keep letting James’s rough edges piss me off. Besides, he’s trying to see things from all angles. I can’t fault him for that.

“I know she’s involved, but I don’t think she’s guilty of the crime. There’s something she isn’t telling me, but after last night, I have no reason to suspect that she is a member of the crime ring responsible.”

“And you know this why?”

“Because who gets attacked by their own gang?”

He mulls that over, and I can tell I’ve finally made a point in Naomi’s favor that he has to consider. “Still,” he says, “It could be a set-up. Something to get you off her scent.”

I consider that, but I dismiss the thought. I know Naomi. I don’t know her that well, because she won’t let me in, but if I’m completely honest with myself, I’m not letting her in either.

What a pair of fools we make.

She is beyond frustrating though. She challenges me at every turn, which isn’t something I’m used to. In the Special Forces, we worked as a team. We trusted each other with our lives. Her insubordination, her refusal to confide in me, leads me in circles that could be avoided, and I hate that.

I can’t bring myself to hate her for it. She is quickly becoming every thought in my head, which is a dangerous road. I’m veering off even now thinking about her, and I force myself back into the present.

“It could. We won’t rule that out.”

“Coast Guard brought in a boat last night, while you were busy at Naomi’s place,” James says, and I’m not a fan of the way he words ‘busy.’ “Abandoned.”

My heart skips a beat. “Are you kidding? There a reason you didn’t tell me that?”

“It was early hours of the morning. Look, it’s tethered up at the docks. We’ve got it in evidence. Let’s check it out now.”

Fuck, it grates on me that he’s made that decision. My desperation to solve this case, to make this town safe again, wins out. “Let’s go,” I say.

James nods and stands. He slides his arms into a jacket and meets me on the other side of the desk. With my coffee still in hand, I don’t bother settling in. I want answers, and I want them now. Together we load into a cruiser and head down to the docks.

We grab a pair of gloves each from the box on the dash, snap them on and get out, ready for our task.

I check to make sure my uncle’s boat is intact as we walk by. A sense of relief washes over—it’s as old and dingy and untouched as ever. It’s one of the few things I have of my uncle, and I want to keep it safe for as long as I can. It may be a crusty old boat, but it’s a family heirloom.

A few boats down, the white yacht bobs along, tied to the dock with a teal rope. It’s in the space specially reserved for captures, the portion of the dock locked behind a chain link fence. I open up and walk through.

Finally, we reach the yacht, and I grip the handle of the entrance and jump aboard, followed by James. The deck is made of a fine wood that I smudge with the dirt under my boots.

I’ll have the boat cleaned later. Right now, what we need is evidence.

“I’ll do a scan below deck to see if there’s anything down there,” I say.

James nods and starts lifting cushions and drawers on deck. I walk to the back of the boat where I find a staircase leading down. I take each step with precaution and hold onto the railing until I reach the bottom. A light switch is on the wall to my right, and I flick it upward, illumining the space.

This is clearly a party boat. The room is deceptively spacious because of the number of mirrors along every wall. Large, plush sofas take up most of the space in the center of the room, and a wet bar holds court toward the back of the space.

I start my search. I check the floors to see if anything was dropped. I pull off all of the couch cushions, I open every drawer. There has to be something down here that can lead us in a direction—any direction. Until Naomi is ready to talk, and obviously I can’t force the issue, I have to work to find clues on my own.

When I reach the bar, it’s still fully stocked. What kind of person leaves this much expensive liquor unlocked and unchecked? I get that people think this town is safe, but that’s still no reason to be this careless. I think back to my conversation with the woman whose yacht was stolen—this has got to be hers, and it’ll be a relief to have it returned after we’ve scoured it.

I have to be the one to reinstate that safety, that trust. It is up to me to figure this out and bring peace back to Stoneport. I cannot fail the people of this town.

I cannot fail Naomi.

I glance at the mirrors all around me. Naomi would love this room. We could fuck from every angle, and she could see it all. I love how much she enjoys watching me fuck her. It turns me on to no end when her gaze is fixed on our joined bodies.

“Ben! You’ll want to see this!”

James’s voice echoes from the stairwell, and I leave the liquor shelf behind as I stride back toward the staircase. I turn off the light on my way up, this time taking the stairs two at a time in my rush to get back up and see what James has found. He’s not at the top of the stairs, so I walk around the side. When I find him, his back is to me, but he’s clearly looking at something.

“What is it?” I ask

I’m not allowed to get excited. I can’t help the tingle in my belly at the thought of a clue, though. Please tell me that it’s something that can guide us in the right direction. James turns and holds out his hands. In them is a long, sharp hunting knife.

I stare at it.

“Found this in the captain’s area, tucked beneath the steering wheel,” James says. He holds the knife out to me, and I take it. I turn it around in my hands and survey the weapon, and my mind works furiously.

I know this. I’ve seen it somewhere before. I wrack my brain for when that was, and a memory surfaces. The first night I went to Naomi’s restaurant, I walked in on Skippy harassing Katie and Naomi. She was about to approach him, but I saw the knife in his belt and knew I had to do something.

This is that knife.

Photographic memory coupled with my training—yeah, I recognize it. I’m sure.

“This is the weapon Skippy had on him that night at Naomi’s when we walked in. Remember?”

I hand the knife back to James, using a handkerchief so as not to smudge any prints. I’m trying to include him more, make him feel more appreciated and useful. Clearly, I’ve been slacking at that, and I want him to feel like a valued member of the team. He turns it around in his hands much like I did, and his gaze combs over the blade, the hilt.

Finally, he nods. “I remember it, too. It’s clear now that Skippy wasn’t telling the whole truth. We’ve got him.”

“Let’s get back to the station and put out an APB on our new suspect.”

“You got it.”

We hop off the boat and stride down the dock in unison. I’m glad to have James feel more like a partner than a disgruntled employee. In this moment, I feel better than I’ve felt in a long time at my job. We have a solid lead, evidence, and I have a partner that I can trust to be resourceful by my side.

“Great find, by the way,” I tell him. Appreciation is never a bad thing.

He nods as he opens his car door. “Thanks. It was a lucky find. Let’s hope that it will get us the information we need. Skippy knows how to play this game, and he isn’t talking either.”

The corner of my lip twitches, and I slide into the driver’s seat and turn on the ignition.

“Oh, he’ll talk. He’s not going to have a choice.”