Page 49 of Seaside Strangers
He eased the door closed and headed back to the living room, where his brothers and uncle were still gathered. They’d spent the rest of the afternoon and most of the evening going over the limited intel they had, turning it over from every angle, trying to find a way forward. There weren’t many options yet, but they had a plan to keep things moving. Sean would reach out to Agent Samson again in the morning to see if anything new had come in. Dan would contact his friend, Matt Griffin, the local sheriff, and give him a heads-up about what was unfolding in his town. If Griffin had questions, Brian made it clear he could call him directly.
For now, the priority was simple—keep Moriah safe and out of sight. If Brian’s call to Detective Parisi had raised any suspicion, they couldn’t risk exposing her.
When it got late, Brian and Dan headed out, exchanging quiet goodnights and promises to check in first thing in the morning. Sean claimed KC’s bedroom without discussion, and no one said a word about KC staying with Moriah. He wasn’tabout to leave her alone—not after everything she’d been through.
The day had taken its toll on her. Telling her story had forced her to relive it, and the loss of her family came crashing back in full force. She’d tried to hold it together, but the fear was still there, under the surface. He’d seen it in her eyes and felt it in the way she’d clung to him.
They’d all promised she’d be safe—that nothing would happen to her on their watch. It wasn’t just talk. They would see this through. Moriah mattered to him, and his family wouldn’t turn their backs on that.
Walking through the house, he rechecked the doors and windows, making sure everything was locked. He’d called his teammates earlier to bring supplies, knowing it would take a couple of hours for them to get there. Afterward, he hadn’t bothered trying to sleep. Instead, he stayed up, keeping watch over the quiet house.
Sean sat at the dining table with his laptop open, the glow of the screen lighting his face as he worked through an FBI case. They didn’t say much. They didn’t need to. The quiet between them was easy, broken only by the soft tapping of keys and the steady rush of the ocean beyond the dunes.
The place felt different at night. The familiar sounds—the distant surf, the faint creaks of the old structure—had once meant summer and freedom, back when he and his brothers spent their vacations here. But after their parents died and they moved in for good, those same sounds meant something else. What had once been temporary became permanent, a reminder that everything had changed.
They’d each handled the grief in their own way. There were times it got the better of them, when tempers ran hot and decisions weren’t the smartest. But Uncle Dan had been there through it all—steady, patient, and firm when he needed to be. He kept them in line without breaking them, giving them room to work through it while making sure they didn’t go too far.
Now, years later, KC stood in that same house, listening to those same sounds, and knew exactly what was at stake.
About two and a half hours after his call, headlights swept across the front of the house, cutting through the darkness. KC moved to the kitchen window and looked out, confirming it was his teammate and not anyone else.
Tobias Anderson III—T3—didn’t waste time. He came through the door with a heavy knapsack slungover one shoulder, his size alone enough to fill the space. At six foot five and built like the linebacker he used to be, he was hard to miss. A scar ran from his left temple down his cheek to his jaw, a reminder of a mission KC would never forget.
He greeted Sean with a quick handshake before setting his bag on the table and unzipping it.
Gear came out in an organized spread—silent entry alarms, small enough to mount on doors and windows, along with extra ammunition for the Glocks KC and Sean carried.
KC lifted a brow at the growing pile. Before he could ask, T3 held up a hand.
“Don’t ask, don’t tell. I could only get six alarms on short notice, but I grabbed two receivers. That should cover you. If not, I’ll track down more in the morning and bring them back.”
KC nodded, already mapping it out. “Six is enough. Windows along the deck and the back door are the only easy access points. Front’s too exposed, and the storage room door would give them away before they got inside.”
T3 gave a short huff. “They won’t overthink it. Back door’s the easiest way in.”
Sean closed his laptop and joined them without a word, picking up one of the devices as KC startedassigning placements. The three of them moved through the house, attaching silent alarms to the doors and windows that could be breached. By the time they finished, each bedroom had a receiver in place.
T3 didn’t linger once the job was done. KC thanked him, and the man headed back out the way he’d come, promising to be on standby if they needed anything else.
When the door closed behind him, the house settled into quiet again.
KC gave his brother a quick clap on the shoulder. “Moriah insisted on changing the sheets for you earlier. Guess she needed to feel useful. See you in the morning—and thanks for staying.”
Sean let out a soft “Yee-haw,” earning a chuckle from KC as he headed down the hall toward the primary bedroom.
It had been a long time since they’d played cops and robbers, but this was the first time as adults that they would stand side by side against a real threat.
He traded his jeans for sweatpants and tossed his shirt aside. He usually slept in boxer briefs, but tonight he stayed dressed enough to move fast if needed.
After setting his loaded weapon on the nightstand within easy reach, KC climbed into bed beside Moriah. The receiver sat on the dresser, the small red light blinking steadily, ready to sound if anything tripped the system.
He slipped an arm around her and drew her closer, his leg settling over hers in a protective hold. She shifted in her sleep, pressing back into him, and some of the tension he’d been carrying eased at the response.
Sleep came not long after.
Red. Dark red.
Blood...
