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Yep, I’m a chip off his ol’ block too.
“Gentry Evans brings his golf buddies around on his yacht.” Silas tucks his long hair behind his ear, and my heart jolts. That gesture. It’s so familiar. “I ain’t ever seen so many entitled assholes gathered onto one vessel before in my life.”
“I believe it.”
I’m afraid I’m staring because Silas is that stunning. Just like him. And he’s not wearing a shirt. His hot body is Velcro, and my eyes are stuck on it.
“When do they usually come around?”
“Why?” Jameson sounds more like my father than the real one next to me.
“Because maybe I should day-trip to Daufuskie.”
I give zero fucks for making it obvious. I’m going after Gentry Evans like stink on shit.
Dad says nothing. I see logic firing behind his eyes, knowing exactly what I’m up to.
Am I worried? Maybe.
But it won’t stop me.
“When’s Gentry usually there?” I deliver my most disarming smile to Silas.
It works. His smile back warms me in places I thought only Redix could. “During high season, the second and fourth Saturdays. Like clockwork.”
That gives me one month to find out more.
I have no evidence, but I know how evil Gentry Evans is. That’s all the proof I need.
And I trust a group of wealthy men gathered for sport like I trust stepping on a stingray buried in the sand—they’ll hurt you.
Jameson and I say our goodbyes. My stomach is growling for oysters.
Over lunch, he keeps eyeing me suspiciously.
“If you go out to Daufuskie, Bryant.” Finally, he says what’s bothering him. “I’m your backup. Promise me. This is my case too.”
“Copy,” I say, seeing a text light up my phone screen on the table. I grin. It reads:
Your dad gave me your number. This is mine. If you want that trip.
Or anything else. I’m interested.
Silas
Jameson’s not pleased.
“Does that happen to you a lot?” He’s smart; he doesn’t need to read the text to read what happened. “You meet a man, and then he’s coming after you?”
I stop smiling. “Yeah.”
“What are you after?”
His sunglasses are off. I glance up and see it on his handsome face, and it’s a vulnerable ask. I know what he wants, what he’s after—me… in a gentle way.
“Revenge,” I say with no apology.
Slurping down an oyster, my deal keeps falling into place.
