Terror spiked through me. My heart leapt into my throat and I broke into a jog, blurting the first words that clawed free when I reached Trouble, who stood near the edge of the tiki. “Where’s Corinne? Is she okay?”
He blinked, caught off guard, then gave me a quick nod. “She’s fine. Home resting. Spent too much time in the sun today messing with that damn garden. Needed to lie down.”
Relief whooshed out of me so sharp my knees nearly buckled. But it didn’t settle me, not really. Because I still had no idea why they were here, with cops. And that couldn’t be good, no matter how it was spun.
Kai turned just as I reached the table. His face wasn’t calm or controlled. It was tight, pale in the glow of the string lights, panic and confusion etched in the set of his jaw. He didn’t know what this was either. The sight jolted through me like static—whatever was happening, he was just as blind as I was.
Faith stood, and the man in uniform rose beside her. Neither looked angry. Not relieved. Something else.
“Good—you’re here,” Faith said, calm and steady. She glanced between Kai and me, then gestured to the man at her side. “This is Sheriff Waylan Bennett.”
“Nice to meet you,” I muttered, searching Faith’s eyes.
She folded her hands on the table. “We’ve got news about that bale Kai found.”
My breath snagged. “News?”
Waylan spoke in a steady, no-nonsense tone. “We cross-referenced the initial Coast Guard measurements with what was booked into evidence. The sizes don’t match.”
“Not even close,” Faith added. “The field measurements were exactly double what made it to the evidence locker.”
My stomach lurched, hollow and weightless. “So… half went missing.” The words came out a whisper, but in the silence around the table they seemed to echo.
Faces told me what mouths didn’t. Spence, Reef, Coulter—all three of them were stone, giving away nothing. But we knew that her news was just confirming what the smugglers had already told us. My chest clenched. That still didn’t explain why we were here now, gathered with a sheriff under tiki lights like this was some kind of tribunal.
“Looks that way,” Faith said. “The FBI cross-checked the Coast Guard’s report against what was logged into DEA custody. When they started pulling threads, they found the same thing has happened before. Different seizures, different ports, but always the same agent signing off. And always evidence coming up… light.”
Reef swore under his breath.
“Turns out,” Faith continued, “he’s got a habit of shaving off the top when no one’s looking. Kilos disappear in transit, paperwork gets fuzzy, and somehow it all just… vanishes. Not once or twice—more than a dozen times over the years.”
Spence leaned back, disbelief etched across his face. “Jesus. How the hell is that guy still employed?”
“Because cases take time,” Faith said. “Patterns are harder to prove when everyone assumes it’s just sloppy paperwork, a wrong number filled in a report. And the DEA doesn’t exactly like admitting one of their own might be dirty.”
Waylan’s jaw tightened, disgust plain in his voice. “Unbelievable. A lawman skimming from evidence, feeding poison back onto the street. Repugnant.” His head shook in disgust. “It spits in the face of every badge out here trying to keep these waters safe.”
The tiki seemed to tilt for a second, lights blurring. Relief and shock crashed into each other in my chest. They had found the coke the smugglers were chasing us for.
Faith’s gaze flicked between Kai and me, steady and professional. “Short version? Reporting that square grouper did more good than you know—it shined a light on a dirty pipeline. You did the right thing.”
Around me, the men shifted on the benches, the wood creaking under their weight as they absorbed it. The pressure in my ears eased by a notch. I gripped the edge of the picnic table to steady myself, lungs finally remembering how to work.
CHAPTER 30
KAI
Istaggered back a step and dropped onto the bench, landing with a thud. For a second I couldn’t hear anything but the rush of blood in my ears. After weeks of secrecy—me, Reef, and Spence carrying this like a live wire while trying to keep it off Coulter, off Dad, off Trouble, and away from Faith—suddenly it wasn’t on us at all.
A dirty agent had skimmed half the bale. That was it. That was the ghost we’d been fighting.
I braced my elbows on the table, staring at the grain like it might steady me. “So… it’s over?”
Spence leaned back, folding his arms, a grin tugging at his mouth. “It’s over. Nothing to worry about, bro.”
The words hit me like a gut punch of release. For a heartbeat I just sat there, staring at him, chest locked tight. Then something inside me cracked. Air burst out in a jagged bark of a laugh—too sharp, too raw. Another ripped free, louder this time. My shoulders shook, my chest heaved, until I couldn’t stop. The sound turned wild, half-hysterical, building into a fit that rattledout of me like I was coming apart at the seams. My eyes watered, my ribs ached, and I half-worried I’d lost my mind right there in front of everyone.
Jasmine was at my side in an instant, her hand gripping my shoulder, sliding down my arm as if she could anchor me back down. I tried to fight it, tried to get control, but the harder I pressed it down, the worse it came—choking, gasping bursts that bordered on something ugly, almost desperate.
