Chapter Six
SIX
Rocky
“Don’t,” Nova warns me.
I’m leaning against the fridge in the coastal two-bed, one-bath loft above Baubles & Bookends, loosely gripping the neck of a Koning Lite and staring down the shut bathroom door several lengthy feet away from us.
Nova is seated on a rattan barstool. Did not ask him to be in eyesight of me. Did not ask him to tell me what to fucking do on this ugly Saturday night.
Letters are stacked beside the brewing coffeepot and a Seaside Griddle mug (Trevor swiped it).
My name on the top envelope, and no, I haven’t ripped that shit open because, for one, whatever Varrick Wolfe has to say will piss me off, and two, I’m already naturally pissed off, and three, I don’t go rogue.
We all agreed to wait until everyone is here.
It’s dumb as fuck to take matters into my own hands without consulting the others first.
Something I sincerely hope my little brother has learned the past two weeks.
“Don’t what?” I snap at Nova. He’s going to need to spell it out and not do his whole stern soldier routine with me. I’m not in the mood.
He grinds his jaw, a stubbled goatee and mustache grown in, but he recently buzzed his hair again. His beer bottle—and Glock—rest next to an opened Gambit comic book he’s been reading.
Nova Graves, already prepared for the ending. Let’s hope it doesn’t conclude with a bullet to a head.
His expensive Piaget watch catches the light as he points to the bathroom. “Don’t go in there.”
“I’m not moving, dumbass.”
“You’re considering it.”
He’s not wrong.
I’ve been staring down the bathroom door ever since Hailey and Phoebe rushed inside. We were in mid-conversation about their lunch with the godmothers, and Phoebe suddenly carted Hailey away with an abrupt “We need a moment alone. brB.”
“brB?” I arched my brows at her. “What are you—fifteen?”
She diverted her gaze from mine and sprinted to the bathroom, tugging my younger sister behind. “Be right fucking back,” she said too urgently, too rushed. The heat of her words flamed out. “Don’t follow us.”
Concern bludgeoned me. “Phoebe.”
“I’m serious, Rocky.” She slammed the door, but I caught her brown eyes right before she disappeared from sight. No hostility in them. She seemed panicked. It’s been bothering me, coupled with the fact that something has felt off with Phoebe this past week.
At times, she’s been more withdrawn. While other times, she’s hung on to me as if we’re in shark-infested open water together, drowning in the raging deep blue sea. Desperate, needy, starved affection—to ensure I’ll never let go.
I won’t release my grip on Phoebe. I can’t. If someone tried, they’d need to hacksaw both my fucking hands.
Her clinging tighter to me—not unusual, especially since we’ve been together for real.
Feeling her pull away afterward like she never meant to hold on in the first place—that’s new. I get the sense she’s scared about something, but Phoebe was taught to be emotionally brick walled and iron willed. Being vulnerable isn’t as easy for her.
I know this.
I know her. (Too well.)
Ignoring Nova, I take a harsh swig of beer.
Replaying the past thirty minutes, I wonder what the fuck I missed before my sister and my girlfriend evacuated like the floor was lava.
I hadn’t been dissecting them. I’d been glaring, stewing, over how Elizabeth Graves took it upon herself to share information about the Koning job with Varrick.
It even angered Phoebe, which honestly surprised me.
I thought she would’ve made excuses, saying we need her mom’s help.
But Phoebe has been really struggling to reconcile the Elizabeth who cares for her and the Elizabeth who betrayed her.
Our parents would have to reconstruct the Titanic and hope it doesn’t sink to row their way back to me.
To reach the others, it’ll be much easier now that the truth is out and our parents are acting like this is some fresh start while they assist us in finishing the Koning job.
It’s exactly why I’m more on guard. Protecting Trevor, Hailey, Oliver, Nova, and Phoebe is ingrained so deep in me, and the wider they open their arms to our parents, the more I want to step in front of them and take the blows.
But I can admit that Elizabeth, Addison, and Everett have been crucial for this con.
Hell, Everett is still the staff manager at the Koning estate, and now that Claudia is gone, the godmothers have swooped into her social circle to take advantage of her grieving friends.
Becoming closer, gaining more influence in the town.
I’ve accepted that the godmothers are assets to us as much as we are to them. Because if they weren’t involved in the recent job to screw over Claudia Waterford, then she would’ve never added Jake, her thirdborn son, to her will before she died.
Jake’s insufferable prick of an older brother only inherited half of the Koning estate, half the Koning properties, half the Koning fortune.
There was a path where Trent could’ve owned everything, and if we walked that road, staying in this town would be a specific circle of hell I wouldn’t want to reside in.
I just hate that we might be playing this game from behind now if Varrick knows as much as we do. I hate that the godmothers can’t defer to us, even when we’ve been adamant they need to.
More than that, I hate that I might’ve let my aggravation for them cloud my awareness for the people I truly love. I hate that I’m standing here while something is clearly going on with Phoebe.
It’s driving me insane.
“She’s allowed to have some space from you.” Nova turns a page of his comic. “So give my sister some fucking space.” It’s a protective brotherly threat.
And I’m not nice. “Your sister who prefers to be choked out and superglued to me until my skin tears off—that sister?”
His glare is violent. “She wants to talk to her best friend privately for a minute. Let her.”
Jesus Christ. He’s still so wound up around the idea that I could be bad for Phoebe. I eye the bathroom, then him. “And that doesn’t worry you?”
“They’re friends and women, Rocky. We don’t need to always be a part of whatever they’re discussing.”
“I’m dating Phoebe.”
“So?”
“So, if something were wrong with her, I’d expect her to fucking tell me.” I grimace up at the ceiling light. “That’s not true, because your sister would prefer I morph into one of your silly little comic book characters and read her mind.” I flash him a tight smile.
His brows harden. Then he shuts the comic.
“What do you think is going on? Is it Varrick?” Visceral heat blazes off his pinpointed gaze.
And I thought the Big Bad Wolfe’s name pissed off me and Phoebe.
Nova has been irate since learning he’s Varrick’s son.
I doubt he ever wanted a father who’d be capable of murder.
Nova loved Everett. Obeyed Everett. My so-called dad, who I would’ve traded in for a cardboard cutout of Shrek or Donkey.
I shake my head slowly and place my beer on the counter beside the fridge. “It can’t be about your father. He makes Phoebe angry more than scared.”
“Then what?”
“She ran into Trent, maybe. He came on to her and she’s not telling me.” My phone buzzes in my black slacks, and I pry it out. “Speaking of the firstborn fuckbag.” It’s what Phebs calls him, which makes me eye the bathroom again before pounding out a message with my thumb at my waist.
Trent Koning Waterford has been texting me every five goddamn minutes.
To party with him.
I’m running out of creative ways to brush off my fake best friend. When really, I just want to tell him to go fuck himself with a chain saw.
“Have you considered you’re just paranoid?” Nova asks.
“I’m listening,” I say while I text.
“Jake’s oldest brother is still a threat to Phebs, especially now that she’s seemingly single. You have to pretend to be Trent’s closest friend, so it’s harder for you. You’re imagining the worst before it’s even happened.”
Yeah.
I press send. “How do we know it hasn’t already happened, Nov? She’s a dog toy in a feud between two brothers. She knows it, man. I know it. You know it.”
He crosses his buff arms. Rigid, more primed for a shitstorm. “We’re all watching Trent. When would he get the chance?”
“The country club. Her place of work.”
“He doesn’t go to VCC anymore. He’s frequenting the fucking Mariner’s Club.
” It’s an older, more exclusive establishment owned by the Wolfes and resides closer to private docks.
Less beach but better anchorage for yachts, sailboats, catamarans.
“Which is where you and I’ve been the past week, Rock. ”
We’re now cardholding members of a rival country club. In the Konings’ division of assets, Jake Waterford was granted Victoria Country Club. He used to manage the club while his bossy mother oversaw everything and vetoed his decisions at her whim.
Now he’s in charge. Which has run Trent out. Not that he spent much time there in the first place. He thought it was a waste of fucking time.
“You could ask Phoebe if anything happened,” Nova suggests, reopening his comic book with force. “You know, talk. With words.”
I roll my eyes but end up muttering, “We’re working on it.” I can’t let anyone touch her. I can’t handle the impact of Trent coming as close as he did at the Alps.
He had his cock out. He got naked and crawled in the same hot tub as Phoebe. If I hadn’t shown up…
I trade my phone for Nat Sherman cigarettes. I don’t want to relax. I’d rather be buzzing with nicotine than unwound with alcohol. Leaning against the fridge again, I smack the pack of Nats on my palm. “Did she ever tell you what happened at the Alps? Or Carlsbad? The Fiddle Game?”
“No.” Nova looks up at me. “She told you?”
“Yep.” I light a cigarette and hold one elbow while I smoke. “The last time I felt this in the dark with Phebs, she’d been hiding something traumatic.”
“The Fiddle Game?”
I nod once. “Yeah.” The Fiddle Game. The job in Carlsbad is what sent her here.