Chapter 29
JASMINE
Jess stared at the door long after it closed behind Kai. The margarita glass in her hand hovered midair. “What the fuck was that?”
Heat flushed through me, part embarrassment, part panic.
The whole restaurant seemed suddenly too bright, too loud.
The mariachi music was far too upbeat for the occasion.
I squinted like it would help lower the volume, every sound rasping against raw nerves.
People weren’t staring, but it felt like they were, every laugh from another table scraping over me like sandpaper.
“Jess, I…” My voice choked. I grabbed for the water glass in front of me but set it back down untouched. “It’s… complicated.”
She arched a brow. “I can see that.”
I fumbled through my purse, fingers clumsy as I dug out a credit card.
Waving down the server with a jerky hand, I handed it over as soon as she reached the table.
“Can we just close out? Add twenty percent, please.” My pulse thudded in my ears as she nodded and slipped the card into her apron.
Every second at that table felt like it was closing in on me.
Jess leaned forward, steady and unblinking. “Talk to me, Jaz. You look like you’re about to crawl out of your skin.”
I rubbed my forehead, trying to think of how to explain.
There was no good way to put words to the storm in my chest. “There’s a lot I can’t tell you, because it’s not just my story to tell.
And I’ve already opened my big mouth once when I shouldn’t have.
” My breath came fast, shallow. “But something is happening, Jess, and I have to know what it is. Because if it’s bad and I caused it…
” My throat tightened so hard it hurt. “Then I need to know.”
The server reappeared with the check. I scrawled a quick signature without glancing at the total, shoved the folder back, and stood so fast my chair wobbled.
Jess was already on her feet, bag slung over her shoulder. “Let’s go.”
A rush of gratitude caught me off guard.
We’d only known each other a few months, but Jess didn’t hesitate—no questions, no judgments, just action.
Ride or die, even without the full picture.
The kind of friend you don’t expect to stumble across in adulthood, and one I didn’t deserve after the mess I’d made.
The night pressed hot and heavy, the kind of air that clung no matter how high the AC blasted.
Headlights stretched in a long ribbon along the Overseas Highway, the only road in or out of the Keys.
Neon signs for tiki bars and seafood joints blurred past, dive shops and motels glowing faint under tired string lights.
I was stuck behind a sedan crawling at the speed limit, every minute an agony.
My palms were slick on the wheel, heartbeat hammering in my throat.
Headlights behind me smeared in the rearview like a tunnel closing in.
Before I could think twice, I swung into the center turn lane and gunned it, tires buzzing against the faded paint.
Jess clutched the door handle. “Jesus, Jaz—that’s a Miami move. You’re gonna get pulled over.”
“I don’t care about the cops,” I snapped, my eyes locked on the road. My heart raced. “They’re already on the way.”
Jess said nothing after that, but I felt her stare, sharp and worried, as I floored it toward the marina.
Fear buzzed through me, a sick high I was tired of.
Faith and Waylan on the way. If there was an investigation, it could paint a bullseye on all of us.
The smugglers would assume we’d turned them in, whether it was true or not.
Retaliation wouldn’t be a maybe—it would be inevitable.
Kai’s question came back to haunt me: Did I want to be responsible for them all having to go into witness protection?
The memory nauseated me now. Was that what I’d done? Was that what this was?
Hopelessness pressed on my chest. What if the smugglers had caused an incident—hurt someone—and it was somehow traced back to us?
My thoughts turned darker, to the story I’d been told of Kylie, gone last year at the hands of a hired gun with narco ties.
A cold shiver threaded through my ribs, sharp and unrelenting.
Had they killed someone again? Was everyone in the family even okay?
As I turned into the marina lot, the flash of a black-and-white patrol car made my stomach plummet. Shit. Shit. Shit. They were already here. My worst fear, parked in plain sight under the buzzing sodium lights. “Fuck,” I said to Jess while flinging off my seatbelt. “I’ll be right back.”
She nodded at me with wide eyes.
At the tiki, string lights threw a low halo over the dock—fans chopping humid air, bait pumps humming. I spotted Kai, Coulter, Reef, and Spence at a table with Faith… and an older man in uniform I didn’t recognize.
But not Corinne.
Terror spiked through me. My heart leapt into my throat and I broke into a jog, blurting the first words that clawed free when I reached Trouble, who stood near the edge of the tiki. “Where’s Corinne? Is she okay?”
He blinked, caught off guard, then gave me a quick nod. “She’s fine. Home resting. Spent too much time in the sun today messing with that damn garden. Needed to lie down.”
Relief whooshed out of me so sharp my knees nearly buckled. But it didn’t settle me, not really. Because I still had no idea why they were here, with cops. And that couldn’t be good, no matter how it was spun.
Kai turned just as I reached the table. His face wasn’t calm or controlled.
It was tight, pale in the glow of the string lights, panic and confusion etched in the set of his jaw.
He didn’t know what this was either. The sight jolted through me like static—whatever was happening, he was just as blind as I was.
Faith stood, and the man in uniform rose beside her. Neither looked angry. Not relieved. Something else.
“Good—you’re here,” Faith said, calm and steady. She glanced between Kai and me, then gestured to the man at her side. “This is Sheriff Waylan Bennett.”
“Nice to meet you,” I muttered, searching Faith’s eyes.
She folded her hands on the table. “We’ve got news about that bale Kai found.”
My breath snagged. “News?”
Waylan spoke in a steady, no-nonsense tone. “We cross-referenced the initial Coast Guard measurements with what was booked into evidence. The sizes don’t match.”
“Not even close,” Faith added. “The field measurements were exactly double what made it to the evidence locker.”
My stomach lurched, hollow and weightless. “So… half went missing.” The words came out a whisper, but in the silence around the table they seemed to echo.
Faces told me what mouths didn’t. Spence, Reef, Coulter—all three of them were stone, giving away nothing.
But we knew that her news was just confirming what the smugglers had already told us.
My chest clenched. That still didn’t explain why we were here now, gathered with a sheriff under tiki lights like this was some kind of tribunal.
“Looks that way,” Faith said. “The FBI cross-checked the Coast Guard’s report against what was logged into DEA custody.
When they started pulling threads, they found the same thing has happened before.
Different seizures, different ports, but always the same agent signing off. And always evidence coming up… light.”
Reef swore under his breath.
“Turns out,” Faith continued, “he’s got a habit of shaving off the top when no one’s looking. Kilos disappear in transit, paperwork gets fuzzy, and somehow it all just… vanishes. Not once or twice—more than a dozen times over the years.”
Spence leaned back, disbelief etched across his face. “Jesus. How the hell is that guy still employed?”
“Because cases take time,” Faith said. “Patterns are harder to prove when everyone assumes it’s just sloppy paperwork, a wrong number filled in a report. And the DEA doesn’t exactly like admitting one of their own might be dirty.”
Waylan’s jaw tightened, disgust plain in his voice. “Unbelievable. A lawman skimming from evidence, feeding poison back onto the street. Repugnant.” His head shook in disgust. “It spits in the face of every badge out here trying to keep these waters safe.”
The tiki seemed to tilt for a second, lights blurring. Relief and shock crashed into each other in my chest. They had found the coke the smugglers were chasing us for.
Faith’s gaze flicked between Kai and me, steady and professional. “Short version? Reporting that square grouper did more good than you know—it shined a light on a dirty pipeline. You did the right thing.”
Around me, the men shifted on the benches, the wood creaking under their weight as they absorbed it. The pressure in my ears eased by a notch. I gripped the edge of the picnic table to steady myself, lungs finally remembering how to work.