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Redix’s tone isn’t mad. It’s right. It’s worried.
“There’s a lot of unsolved cases.”
“Cases that involve Gentry and TJ?”
“I can’t prove it yet.” I turn around and bury my head in his chest, wiping my tears on his T-shirt. “But I’ll die trying to.”
“Don’t.” His hug is too tight, and I need it. “They’re not worth it.”
“No, they’re not. But their victims are. They’re worth the whole fight.”
And I don’t say it. But I know the truth now.
All of it…
After what they did to Redix? To those women?
They’re worth more than a fight.
They’re worth murder.
CHAPTER FORTY
She Was Out In the Water by One Little Plane
This shouldn’t be awkward as hell… but it is.
It’s midnight, and I’m on a boat in the middle of the Calibogue Sound with two men.
One who’s so mad at me that I never gave him a chance; you can take a chainsaw to the tension between us.
The other is so sweet to me, hoping I’ll give him one; he’s as tempting as dessert on a diet.
But I love Redix. That truth hangs heavy in the humid air.
An hour before, Jameson met me at Harbour Towne with a Po’ Boy sandwich, trying to make up for his insult, and it worked. I don’t want to be mad at him. We need to click to work.
Silas was kind too. He packed a cooler with two gallons of Arnold Palmers—sweet tea and lemonade.
“I’m no cop,” he said, pouring me a cup before we headed out, “but I know we gotta stay sober and caffeinated for this.”
The August night on the water is calm. The quarter moon gives us some cover while Silas’s marine radar lights up with all the boats anchored along the sound on a summer weekend.
“Where do we start?” Silas asks.
“Let’s head out to open water.” Jameson stands portside, looking through night vision binoculars.
“That’s not Gentry’s style.” I sit beside Silas, who’s kicked back in his captain’s chair. “He likes his Lowcountry too much. I know his favorite spot.”
“Was that intel you planned on keeping to yourself?” Jameson’s still pulling his jealous boxers out of a wad.
“No,” I answer calmly. “I’m sharing it now.”
“Where to, Sergeant?” Silas smiles my way.
And I like him. It’s like his gorgeous feathers can’t be ruffled.
“Savage Island, down Bull Creek. That used to be one of his favorite spots.”
