But I didn’t run. The thought of either of us going through this hell alone made my stomach churn. Remembering his big arms around me soothed the chaos inside me. “I’d rather you stay at my place tonight.”
“You sure?”
“Absolutely,” I said, a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. “I’ll text you the address.”
CHAPTER 11
KAI
The last of the charter guests drifted down the dock, sunburned and smiling, cooler bags swinging at their sides. Their laughter carried faintly, slurred with exhaustion and beer, drifting into the salt-heavy breeze. The scent of sunscreen and fresh fillets hung thick in the humid air, a cocktail of Florida summer that usually brought relief at the end of a long day’s work. Not today.
I rubbed a hand over my face, dragging the sweat with it. My nerves were shot. Three nights in Jasmine’s bed should have left me loose and satisfied, but the truth was rawer than that. I hadn’t slept much at all. Every time I closed my eyes, the memory of that pistol pressed to her temple replayed like a bad movie. She woke choking on nightmares, and I woke beside her with my fists clenched, unable to do a damn thing except hold her until her breathing eased.
It was a new hell. The guilt weighed heavier than the fear ever could. Knowing she’d been dragged into this mess because of me. Every time her body jolted in the dark, it carved the reminder deeper: I’d put her in the line of fire.
The sound of whistling snapped me out of the loop of dread. Dad strolled down the dock with a spring in his step.
“What are you hangin’ around for?” He called from thirty feet away. “Don’t you have something better to do?”
“Are you trying to run me off?” I called back, painting on a smile.
“Naw. I was just coming to say hi, and bye. I’m heading out to dinner with Corinne’s parents and the kids.” I noticed he was wearing a nice shirt. It was still a fishing shirt, but a high end and never-been-fished-in one. And khaki slacks. Spiffy for my dad.
“That sounds awesome. Tell them I said hi.” I’d met them once, at the wedding.
“Don’t hang around here too late. You ought to be out doing something too.” I couldn’t tell him that Iwasdoing something… waiting for Reef to see if his efforts to find info on the missing coke had been more fruitful than mine.
“Yeah, yeah,” I agreed, half-hearted. He’d told me I needed to get a life more than once. “Have fun, Dad. I won’t stay late.” That seemed to satisfy him, and he left with a smile. I could finally let mine go.
The sun was getting low and there was still no sign of Reef. I grabbed a deck brush and set in scrubbing hatches that were already clean. Anything to keep my hands busy while my brain spun.
When Reef’s flats boat finally eased into the canal, just before sunset, I felt a wave of relief. He was the one person I could talk about it with, and we hadn’t had the chance to talk the past two days.
He offloaded his charter guests, smiling and shaking hands like nothing in the world was wrong. Only when his mate disappeared up the dock did his expression harden, shoulders tight as he joined me.
“Any luck?” I asked, scrubbing at a spot on the boat deck that didn’t exist.
“No. You?” His shake of the head was sharp, clipped. “All I’ve managed is making people suspect I’m trying to deal coke. This is stupid, dude. You need to tell Waylan. He’ll get someone to look out for you at least.”
“I don’t want a twenty-four-seven security detail any more than I want to find their cocaine. And if the smugglers were tipped off, they’d have my head.”
Reef sprayed the deck around my feet, water splashing up on my shins. “Well, have you had any luck?”
“No, same.” I scrubbed harder, more to burn off adrenaline than clean anything.
“We’re not going to find their drugs, Kai. You realize that, right?” Reef’s voice dropped to a whisper-shout, frustration bleeding through. His eyes cut toward the dock, scanning for eavesdroppers even though no one was close enough to hear. “There’s no way. Best case, I find someone who can supply. But we don’t know where they got it. We don’t know shit. And what if they act on it? Unleashing smugglers on our small-town dealers could end up in a bloodbath.” His jaw flexed, the spray nozzle trembling in his hand. “It’s fucked up.”
My pulse thudded in my throat. He wasn’t wrong. Every word painted the nightmare I’d been shoving down—my family getting roped into this terror.
“You got that right,” I grumbled, scrubbing until sweat stung my eyes. “I’m just buying time, trying to come up with a plan. We might be able to throw them off with a false lead.”
Annoyance and fear laced his retort. “You want that pistol pointed at your head again?”
That was when Spence’s voice cut in, sharp as a knife. “A reporter from the Miami Herald called,” he said, eyes trained on me. “They want to interview you tomorrow for an exposé about recent drug busts. They’ll be here when you get back from your charter.”
My brush stilled. I shot Reef a worried look as a lump lodged in my throat. This was not good.
“Fuck that,” I said, shaking my head. “No way.”
