Everett (Stingray Security #4)

Chapter 1

“Lied straight to my face.” Britt shook her head, the diamond studs in her ears catching the soft purple light. She chuckled. “Can you believe that? Five years old and convincing as hell.”

Remi Spade picked up her martini glass, turning it slowly by the stem. The lavender flower floating in the Purple Palmito had gone limp, the petals dark at the edges from sitting too long.

Britt’s question burned in her mind.

Could she fathom lying to someone close to her? Someone she loved?

Of course, she could.

She did it every day.

She’d become so good at lying about her life that she’d nearly convinced herself that the facade was real. That she was blissfully happy without a care in the world.

Remi took a sip of the strong liquor, wincing as it burned down her throat. “You don’t seem too upset about it.”

Britt sat across from her at King Street Lounge in the heart of St. BED, surrounded by locals, tourists, and the pulse of live reggae and calypso.

She looked effortless in a fitted black jumpsuit, perfectly at home in the island’s premier nightlife destination.

Remi had gone more understated in tan linen pants and a matching scoop-neck tank, but wearing her hair loose had been a mistake.

Too many eyes kept drifting her way. More than Britt’s. More than she wanted.

“How fucked up is it that I’m kind of proud of her?” Britt leaned back in the plush chair, her face scrunched into a cute frown. “She’s smart. Savvy. Perceptive. Deceptive.”

“Exactly like you,” Remi said, sucking in a deep breath.

“Too much like me.” Britt appeared to sober from the realization.

Remi reached for Britt’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “That’s not a bad thing, if she uses those skills for good and not for …” She adopted a theatrical villain tone. “Evil.”

Britt erupted in laughter. “Criminal isn’t always evil, you know.”

Remi’s mouth gaped open. “Let’s agree to disagree on that one.”

Britt raised an eyebrow. Remi could see her friend angling for a debate that would lead to nowhere. Although they were both raised in families with cartel ties, they emerged with diametrically opposed views of that lifestyle.

“Anyway, I doubt Paloma is sitting on anything that would be scandalous. She’s five.”

“Then you don’t know my little girl at all. She’s cunning. This secret is big,” Britt said. “But she’s five, and I’m not. I’ll get to the truth without making her feel like she’s betrayed someone’s trust.”

“Someone? Like Lachlan?” Remi asked, her curiosity piqued.

“No.” Britt dismissed the idea with a wave of her hand.

She picked up a French bread roll from the basket between them, tore it in half, and slathered butter on one side.

“I haven’t mentioned anything to him about this.

The last thing I want is to activate his protection mode or get my little girl in trouble with her dad.

” She crossed one leg over the other and leaned into the table.

“Things are so good with us now. Our whole family is …” She paused, pressing the bread against her lips as the right word found her. "Perfect. That man is beyond divine."

The way she said it, with her eyes glazing over and her voice dropping half an octave, told Remi everything she needed to know about what was happening in the Ritchie household after the lights went out.

“Last night,” Britt continued, lowering her voice as she leaned forward with a mischievous glint in her eyes that made the purple lights dance across her face.

“He pinned my wrists above my head with one hand while the other traveled down my body so slowly I thought I might combust, and then he whispered what he was going to do to me before he touched me there?—”

“Britt!” Remi held up both hands, laughing despite the knife twisting somewhere deep in her gut. "TMI. I do not need to know those kinds of details about you and Lachlan."

“How are you still such a prude?” Britt tossed a napkin at Remi.

“You never want to share the good stuff, and I know you’re getting plenty of it.

Bobby’s sexual prowess is the stuff of legend around these islands.

” She raised her Purple Palmito, tipping the glass toward Remi.

“I’m sure your sex life puts mine to shame. ”

Remi's fingers tightened around the stem of her glass. The music seemed to swell and distort, the bass becoming something monstrous that pressed against her skull. She held her expression steady. Kept the smile in place. Let the mask do its work.

She could never tell her good friend that while half the women in the Palmchat Islands knew how good her husband was at delivering orgasmic bliss, she couldn’t count herself as one of them.

And none of her issues were Bobby’s fault.

Bobby had come into her life at the worst possible moment and had, without question, helped put her back together. He found her when she was still raw and flinching. He’d been patient and consistent and … there. Present in ways she hadn’t known she’d needed.

He’d fallen in love with her the way the tides come in.

Gradually, and then all at once. Despite her better judgment, she’d let him.

Encouraged him. Told herself that with time, the friendship, gratitude, warmth, and fondness would blossom into something more.

A deep and devoted love that he deserved for shepherding and shielding her through the worst time of her life.

The kind of love she’d felt for someone else before him.

A love she was still waiting to feel for Bobby, despite what she told him every night. It was probably the only reason he was so wonderful about her limitations. Understanding and committed in the face of her inadvertent rejection of him.

She owed Bobby a debt she had no way of paying, because what he wanted was the one thing her body had stopped being able to produce.

The desire. The response. The capacity to be present in her skin long enough for any of it to matter.

She didn't know how to explain it to anyone, including herself, except to say that something had been taken from her in Jamaica and it had never come back.

She’d tried to give him an out. A chance to walk away from the dysfunction she’d brought into their married life, but he wouldn’t hear of it.

Bobby loved her too much to let her go.

And that made everything worse.

“You know I don’t kiss and tell,” Remi forced the words from her lips. That’s about all she and Bobby ever did. It wasn’t nearly enough to awaken her dead libido.

She was lucky that Bobby didn’t hold it against her.

Lucky to have him in her life and by her side despite her deficiencies and hang-ups.

“Fine. Keep all the sexy details to yourself,” Britt said with a fake pout.

“Sexy details? What have I missed?” A female voice floated from behind Remi.

Remi turned as Britt’s face lit up.

“Corinne,” Britt said, rising halfway from her chair to accept the woman’s quick kiss on the cheek. “You made it.”

“Barely.” Corinne slid into the empty chair.

Her cream silk blouse was tucked into tailored navy trousers, her dark hair swept into a sleek knot at the nape of her neck.

A diamond band flashed on her left hand as she set her clutch on the table.

“The board dinner ran long, and if one more person asks me whether a satellite office in St. Killian is necessary, I may open a beach shack and sell rum punch for the rest of my life.”

Britt laughed. “Remi, this is Corinne Harper. She’s opening the Vanguard Humanitarian Alliance office in St. Killian.”

“The Vanguard?” Remi asked, unable to hide her surprise. “That’s impressive.”

Corinne’s smile warmed. “Depending on the day, it’s either impressive or insane. We’ve spent years flying teams in after hurricanes, floods, and political crises. The new office means we can move faster when the next disaster hits the region.”

“And she’s being modest,” Britt said. “The Vanguard doesn’t send people to places where the power flickers and a road washes out. They go into war zones and countries that need aid yesterday.”

Corinne waved that away, though a flicker of pride crossed her face. “I mostly go into meetings now. Far less heroic.”

“Still sounds heroic to me,” Remi said.

“Then I’m glad I came over here before Britt ruined my reputation.” Corinne picked up the cocktail menu, her gaze shifting between them. “Now, back to the important question. What sexy details did I miss?”

“None,” Remi said quickly.

Britt’s grin turned wicked. “Remi doesn’t kiss and tell.”

“A rare and tragic flaw.” Corinne sighed, then looked at Remi with a conspiratorial smile. “Marriage does that to some of us. Turns us into vaults full of things we’ll never say out loud.”

Remi’s phone lit up the table between them.

“Sexting with the hubby?” Britt teased, reaching for her phone and flipping it over.

They glanced at the screen at the same time.

Remi groaned as the photo filled the screen. “When will they give it a rest?”

“Unlock your phone,” Britt demanded. “What the hell is this?”

“The kind of text I get every couple of weeks. Some well-meaning friend or acquaintance or thirsty hoe decides that I need evidence that my husband is cheating on me.”

Corinne’s smile faded. She didn’t lean in with the hungry curiosity Remi had learned to expect from people who smelled scandal. If anything, something in her expression softened with recognition.

“I’m sorry,” Corinne said quietly. “Whatever that is, getting it in the middle of a night out is awful.”

Remi gave a humorless laugh. “I’m used to it.”

“That doesn’t make it easier.” Corinne’s fingers touched the diamond band on her left hand. “Trust me, I understand more than I wish I did.”

Britt’s attention shifted to her. “Corinne?”

Corinne shook her head. “My husband and I are working through some things. We’re starting counseling, but it kind of feels like a last resort.” Her gaze returned to Remi, gentle but direct. “If you ever want to commiserate with someone who won’t tell you what you should feel, call me.”

Remi liked her instantly for that.

But whatever was happening in Corinne’s marriage wasn’t the same as what was happening in hers. Corinne looked hurt. Remi mostly felt tired, guilty, and embarrassed by how little the idea of Bobby with another woman wounded her.

Britt turned her attention back to Remi’s phone, swiping her fingers across the screen to enlarge the photo.

Remi barely registered the image. Bobby and a woman sat close to each other at what looked like a rooftop bar. Too close. Their heads almost touched. His hand rested on the table near hers, not making contact, but close enough to suggest intimacy.

But none of that mattered more than the number the text was sent from.

Her dad’s burner.

The message was brief.

Dad

We need to talk about this.

No, they didn’t.

Heat crawled up the back of her neck as exhaustion weighed on her.

The bone-deep weariness of having the same conversation over and over with people who loved her and thought they were helping.

People who could never understand how Bobby getting his needs met by some other woman was a relief to her.

That some other woman was giving him what she couldn’t was a gift.

That was the awful truth of it. She didn't mind, and the fact that she didn't mind filled her with a guilt so heavy it was hard to breathe through it some days.

Pretending to defend her husband was easy with others.

Harder when the conversation was with her father?—

“I hope all Bobby is doing is fucking around with this woman,” Britt said, a worried scowl creasing her forehead. “That would be the best explanation for this photo.”

“What?” Remi stuttered, shaken out of her thoughts. “Why do you say that?”

The change in Britt's tone sent ice through Remi's veins.

She stared at the screen, at the woman whose face she hadn't bothered to examine the first time.

Long dark hair. Sharp features. A stillness in her posture that wasn't casual, wasn't relaxed.

It was the stillness of someone who was always assessing.

“You don’t know who she is?” Britt looked genuinely surprised.

“You’re scaring me, Britt.”

“Maybe you should be.” Britt tapped on the photo, zooming in on the woman’s face. “That’s Ianthe Vadaj.”

“Vadaj …” Remi’s stomach soured. The name that had been a dark cloud over her family for too many years.

Britt nodded. “Leader of the PC-5 enforcers. Head of security operations for the island gang.” She paused, letting the weight of it settle. “Your dad’s former boss, Remi. And your husband is cozying up with her.”

Everyone in the Palmchat Islands knew the PC-5, even if they pretended not to.

The cartel had been born decades ago from five men who claimed they were fighting for freedom and independence.

Whatever noble purpose had existed at the beginning had rotted long before Remi was old enough to understand why people lowered their voices when certain names were spoken.

By then, the descendants of the founding five ran the organization like a criminal empire with boardrooms, balance sheets, and bodies.

Vadaj was the arm of the cartel Remi knew most intimately, responsible for security, enforcement, and assassinations. The names on the PC-5 Death List were handled by them. Her father had lived in that world, killing the people whose names appeared on that list.

Bobby knew that.

He knew how crucial it was for organized crime to be far away from their lives.

He’d seen firsthand how her father had almost lost his soul as an enforcer for the PC-5.

How Dad made a deal with the devil to get out when most never could.

More importantly, Bobby was the only one who knew how another equally dangerous cartel had destroyed her.

It was the one line she’d made Bobby promise to never cross.

“I’m sorry, I have to go.” Remi snatched her phone and stuffed it in her purse. There had to be an explanation for this. One that didn’t suggest her husband had betrayed the single most important promise she’d extracted from him before saying “I do.”

“Remi! Where are you going?”

“To get answers.”