“Any news on our troubled friend?” Everett asked.
Sebastian sighed. “Bobby texted this morning. Chatter on Ike has gone silent. The Brazhensky’s had been flooding the dark web for months about going after him, and now there’s nothing.”
“That’s weird,” Lachlan said. “You don’t think they—”
“If Ike was dead, we’d know it. Alexei Brazhensky would parade his head on a platter. The message would’ve been clear. You don’t steal from the Russian mafia and get away with it. I don’t think they’ve gotten to him. I think Ike has gone underground,” Sebastian admitted.
“Without reaching out to any of us?” Lachlan asked. “He knows we’d help.”
“And he knows that would put a target on our backs too, which is not what he’d want,” Everett said. “I’m not surprised he’s doing this on his own.”
“And if he gets to the point where he does need us, he knows we’ll be there,” Sebastian said, twirling his glass of water and sending droplets onto the bar. “In the meantime, we have more pressing issues to deal with here.”
“The vandalism at the beach cottage,” Everett said, taking a sip of his rum.
Lachlan dropped his glass onto the bar. “How certain are you that Quattro is behind it?”
“Likely but not confirmed, which is why I wanted you to come,” Sebastian said. “I know you want to help, but you can’t be involved in any of this. Paloma’s safety comes first.”
The single father drained the rest of his whiskey. “How concerned are you about Quattro?” asked Lachlan.
“Concerned enough to suggest you and Paloma take a vacation off the islands for the next couple of weeks,” Sebastian said. “We can’t do anything that would put you on their radar. Chances are they’ll figure out we’re looking into them.”
“We might need to negotiate with them,” Everett said. “I’m with Sebastian on this one. Any interaction you have with Quattro increases the risk they could find out about Paloma. We can’t take that chance.”
Lachlan pushed up from the barstool, concern creasing his forehead. “Looks like I’m outnumbered. Paloma’s been begging me to take her to the Hershey amusement park in Pennsylvania. Guess my little girl is about to get her wish.”
“I’ll let you know when it’s safe to come back,” Sebastian said.
Lachlan shook their hands and then headed out of the restaurant.
As soon as he was gone, Everett turned to Sebastian. “I got a lead on the bloody goat hearts left in the cottage. Goats have a history of being associated with sexuality. Greek and Roman mythological gods were linked to goats, representing their lasciviousness and insatiable lust. The animal was chosen to send a message about a desire for Gabrielle.”
“If Damian wasn’t already dead, I’d kill his ass,” Sebastian said, pushing his glass of water away. He glanced past the bar. Gabrielle and Serena were engaged in lively banter, laughing and smiling at each other. The restaurant had cleared out, and there were only a few other tables with patrons.
Everett tapped a finger against the rim of his glass. “There were fifteen goat hearts left in the beach cottage. We have plenty of goat farms in the Palmchat Islands, but most grind the organs to make goat paté. But one goat farm on the islands found a better way to make money from fresh goat hearts. They are a delicacy, packed on ice and shipped throughout the islands.”
“Have you reached out to the goat farm?”
“No,” Everett said, reaching for his empty glass. He waved at the bartender and requested another round.
“Why not?” Sebastian asked. “I need you to look into this while I keep Gabrielle safe.”
“The goat farm is Black Spade Ranch.” The bartender eagerly replenished the fifty-dollar drink. Everett raised the glass and downed the amber liquid in one long swallow.
“Still hiding from Remi?” asked Sebastian. Everett’s ex, Remington Spade, along with her father and brothers, owned and operated an iconic goat farm located in St. Basil. Palmchatters from all the islands flocked to the farm during the holidays to catch the traditional Christmas goat. He understood why Everett didn’t want to be anywhere near the ranch.
“I’m not hiding. I’m respecting that she’s a married woman,” Everett said, looking miserable. Remi’s marriage to Bobby, Everett’s long-time frenemy, had been an enormous blow, despite Everett’s insistence that there was no future for him and his former love.
“You’ll have to see her again at some point.”
“Yeah, but not now,” Everett said, closing the door on the subject.
“I’ll see if I can convince Gabrielle to take the yacht to St. Basil. Getting away might do her some good.”
“In the meantime, I’ll follow up with a few guys with connections to Quattro to see who they sent to King Estate to do the dirty work. If Hester made a deal with them, we could pressure that guy to talk.”
“What if there are more plans to harass Gabrielle?” Sebastian asked.
