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“Didn’t they go to high school together?” Jameson asks, scoping the sight too.
“Yes.” Pieces move, changing the picture I’ve had in my mind for so long. “I knew they were close. Now I know why.”
“You think TJ’s been blackmailing Gentry over this?”
They’re moving. Gentry’s standing up and kissing TJ while he drops his shorts. They’re madras, I can’t see it, but I know it.
I’m in shock. “Gay, bisexual, I’m totally cool with it. But this?” TJ bends Gentry over the captain’s chair and starts fucking him while his lady friend offers her tits to his mouth. “I can’t tell if this is sex or love, but they’ve been doing this for a while, that’s for sure.”
I drop my binoculars, letting the logic seep in.
“I always thought Gentry was in charge, like he kept TJ loyal with money and got him to do his bidding.”
“It’s looking like TJ’s very in charge to me.” Jameson’s still watching them.
“That don’t mean anything,” Silas says. “Top or bottom in sex doesn’t translate into life, business… or crime.”
“That’s true.” I don’t ask how Silas knows that, but he’s right. “All this time, I thought Gentry controlled TJ with his power and money. But now they’re secretly a couple? And TJ’s wearing that parrot T-shirt too?”
“You think TJ’s the ringleader?” Jameson asks. “And he’s using Gentry for access to victims?”
My mind draws their evil design. How Gentry uses his rental company and that woman, the Office Manager, to find the tourists, the young women renting his condos. Then he tracks their movements across every business he owns on the island, using cameras to find the targets.
Inevitably, some end up at The Pelican, where Derek Baucom, the bar manager, steps in. Using the drugs, the GHB in liquid form that TJ supplies, they pour it into the victim’s drink, and TJ works the floor, scooping up the victim off camera.
Where is Gentry this whole time? Waiting outside in one of a dozen cars he owns. Where do they go? Any one of the hundreds of condos Gentry owns.
And the wicked dicks know me and how our small island runs; if they wait until the night before check-out, it makes our job hard. We don’t get the time we need to form a rock-solid case with the victim.
The worst part?
The victims—they all look like me at eighteen. Like that night when I wore Pamela’s yellow dress, and they couldn’t get me, so they went after Redix instead.
“I don’t give a fuck who the ringleader is.” I twirl the infinity necklace Redix gave me. “They’re both guilty and going down.”
A sudden pang—it nails my heart thinking about Redix.
How he told me to drop it.
Yes, he’d want me to get justice for the victims. But revenge? That would betray Redix and the peace he wants now.
But what about the victims? The ones who look like me. What if there are more? What if the law can’t catch these men?
And what about me? What do I want?
If I can’t have justice, do I want love or revenge?
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Here Comes The Night by DJ Snake, Mr Hudson
Dear Candy Cade,
I still smell you on my sheets.
You left Lemonheads on my kitchen island. I finished them with a smile, thinking of you, but I left the box there like a Candy Cade centerpiece.
You forgot your hairbrush in my bathroom. It smells like lavender.
