“A dirty secret.” Just like Blake is blackmailing me, the detective could be blackmailing a person, a dirty cop even, into being his courier. “Fuck.”
“You still think Detective Douchebag is a red herring?”
“How could I have been so blind?” Regret slices my chest. “I should have never doubted you.”
“It’s okay.” Tristan’s gaze burns into mine, even behind our sunglasses. “Love isn’t always gentle words and soft touches. Sometimes it’s standing guard in the darkness, taking the hatred meant for someone else, being the villain in your story so you can remain safe.”
Goosebumps cover me. “Love?”
He doesn’t say anything for a while. Then he drags away his stare. “It’s what you wrote. I’m just quoting it.”
“Right… A quote,” I tell him and then murmur to myself, “not the closest thing to a love confession I’ll ever get from Tristan Morra.”
“No.” He hears me and moves closer. “It’s not the closest you’ll ever get. It’s just the beginning.” His fingers brush against the railing spot I’m gripping, the closest he would allow himself to come to touching me in an open space. At this moment, I want nothing more than to collapse into his arms, but I can’t.
Blake is still alive. The note and the detective being in the Vineyard are proof. Butterfly Man hasn’t gotten to my husband yet. That means Blake could be setting a trap for me by not showing up. Perhaps he’s hired a private detective of sorts, one of those who hunts for evidence of infidelity among divorcing couples, and they’re fishing for compromised photos of me with any of my bodyguards. It’s a stretch, but I can’t rule out anything.
Dirty cops, like Blake, like Reid, will do anything to get what they want.
CHAPTER 40
Tristan
“Ashford left the island and went to Boston,” I read the text I’ve received from the detail on the detective.
“Boston,” Birdie emerges from the suite bathroom, holding a bag of toiletries, “what’s in there?”
“Saldana’s case I guess. He must be pretending to be on police business, but he’s just losing the tail, covering his tracks with an alibi before he flies to Miami.”
She packs the bag in the open suitcase on the bed. “Let him think he lost the tail. Let him come to Miami thinking he’s the smartest person in the room.”
“Copy. I’ve also sent Dixon and Riley to Miami before us to cover as much ground as possible. They’ll be your security backup.”
Concern wrinkles her forehead. “What do I need backup for? Tristan, if the plan we’ve devised puts you in danger, let’s make another. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
I smile. “Nothing is gonna happen to me. You’ll go in the school building alone as planned, and I’ll be on the rooftop of the building across, ready with my rifle to take him down.”
“And you’re sure you’re okay with this? Taking him down yourself instead of letting the police handle it?”
“He is the police, Birdie. He’d have gotten away with it. It’s the only way to keep you safe. I’ve told you so many times before,and I’ll tell you now. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to keep you safe.”
She swallows. “I’m still worried about you. If anything goes wrong, I won’t be able to forgive myself.”
“There’s nothing to worry about. It’s a clean operation.”
“Then why the backup? More details could spook him away,” she stresses.
“The stalker isn’t working alone. What if he brings his accomplice or accomplices to the meet? We need the backup. Don’t worry. They’ll be discreet.”
“But—”
I place my palms on her cheeks. “Do you trust me?”
A sigh leaves her lips, erasing all doubt from her gaze. “You’re the only one I trust, Tristan. That’s why I can’t lose you.”
“You’re never gonna lose me.” My lips brush hers. “I’ll go get my things ready.”
In the car, she rests her head on the window and drifts away. I keep my eyes on her. She’s mesmerizing in her sleep.
