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“Hey, y’all.”
This Silas guy smiles, and my nerves go haywire. God, he looks so much like Redix.
“Nice to finally meet you, Cade. Your dad won’t shut up about you.”
I clear my throat. “How do y’all know each other?”
Because fuck me sideways, who knew Dad had such hot friends?
“Silas owns Marshside Marine on Daufuskie,” Dad answers. “He’s helping me with my busted engine. This is his boat.”
I hand Dad the package, the new water pump he’s been waiting for.
“He’s taking me over to my old boat. I gotta use it for now,” Dad informs me. “So don’t go sneaking out with it like you have for the past fifteen years.”
Dad winks, and I blush. I don’t know why.
Like he didn’t figure out all the times Redix and I took his boat out for days of sex on the water.
But in the past few years, I’ve been using it for other reasons, mapping secluded rivers at night, where only gators are my company.
Does he know about that too?
“I hear Redix came home.” Dad sets the box down on the captain’s chair. “All of Tybee lost their shit over it. Every damn bar I go to, someone’s going on about him.”
“And on Daufuskie,” Silas adds, taking out a pocketknife to open the box. “Everyone always asks me if I’m his brother.”
It’s eerie. He looks like it. But I don’t miss how Silas keeps glancing up at me, his bright smile reaching his hazel eyes. Those are different.
“He left”—I hate telling my dad—“as usual.”
That speaks volumes to Dad. He cares for Redix. It hurt him too when he left years ago. And now, he’s done it again, and he didn’t even say hi to him.
“I see,” Dad replies.
He was there that night. He knows pieces too. But the whole story?
Only Redix knows.
“What do y'all have new on those cases?”
Dad changes to a subject he knows doesn’t destroy me. It only fires me up. Jameson fills him in on the details we know. More like what we don’t know. We have no DNA. No fingerprints. There’s evidence of assault but no trace of who’s doing it. We’re after a pro, and Dad’s always curious.
Once a cop, always a cop.
“What do you know about Senator Gentry Evans?” I ask Dad.
That cuts his eyes at me.
One fact we know about Gentry Evans won’t be said aloud, not with Jameson and this other hunk of a man, Silas, around.
The rest?
Dad purses his lips. “He and his family own half of this island. Got their fingers in every profitable pie and every judge on their bankroll.” He eyes me, warning, “They’re not to be fucked with.”
Dad doesn’t believe that. Rules piss him off. And law? And power? He hates those too.
That’s why he made a horrible cop but a great vigilante. And why he’s retired and divorced from Mama.
