Chapter 1
Chapter One
RHYS
Present Day
“You should come home,” I growl into the phone, glaring out my kitchen window.
Rain sheets from the sky, turning Friday Harbor into a hazy blob.
Boats bob up and down in the water to the north, bouncing on their moorings.
The usual, steady flow of traffic in the picturesque island town has ground to a halt.
Everyone is inside, trying to wait out the storm.
They’ll be waiting a while. The storm isn’t expected to blow over until tomorrow at the earliest. Hopefully, that’ll keep the tourists off the island for one day.
They’re the lifeblood of this place, but they’ve been swarming the island in droves.
It’s only June. We still have four full months of the season to go.
A man can only take so much. And I’ve had about all I can stand for the week. My people skills have never been great. They’re even worse when drunk tourists are involved. They drive me nuts. Sue me.
“Rhys,” Cassia cries into the phone. “I’m not coming back to Washington. Will you stop saying that?”
“No,” I mutter, my scowl deepening. Even in the window, deep grooves appear on my forehead, making my displeasure evident. I’m irritable as all hell. It’s my permanent state.
Four months ago, my baby sister went on a girl’s trip to Lake Tahoe for Valentine’s Day, where she met, fell in love with, and married Cord Decker in a whirlwind romance.
I don’t like it. Sure, he’s head over heels in love with her.
Sure, I like him well enough. Sure, he treats her like a queen.
But she’s my baby sister. I want her back in Washington, where I can keep an eye on her. God knows she needs it.
Trouble has a way of finding Cassia. Or rather, Cassia has a way of finding trouble.
Case in point: today’s shitshow. She caught a field on fire, trying to teach herself how to build a bonfire for one of her books.
Cord and his ranch hands were able to put it out before it did too much damage, but Christ Almighty.
My sister is a menace. Cord should know better than to leave her to her own devices. She has terrible ideas.
“This is my home now,” she says with a huff. “I’m not coming back to Washington, Rhys.”
“Put Cord on the phone.”
“Why?” she asks, her tone rife with suspicion.
“I want to talk to him.”
“About what?”
“Stuff.”
“What stuff?”
“Just put him on the phone, Cassia,” I say, cracking a rare smile.
“Uh, no. It’s not his fault I’m good at setting things on fire,” she says.
“Good?” I quirk a brow, not sure how she reached that conclusion. “You set the field on fire, Cass.”
“Exactly. If I were bad at it, I wouldn’t have been able to start one at all, don’t you think?” she asks, completely serious.
“You…” Well, hell. She might have a point there. “Regardless of the semantics,” I say, moving away from the window as a clap of thunder strikes in the distance, rattling the pane of glass. “Tell your husband I’ll kill him if anything happens to you.”
Three months ago, I lost my best friend. I’ll be damned if I lose my baby sister too. Losing Brantley still has me fucked up in the worst way. The guilt is unbearable, but the burden is mine to carry anyway.
What I did…well, hell has a special place for people like me. But I can’t take it back. I’m not sure I even regret it. If he were here, I’m pretty damn confident he’d have made the same choice I did. Or maybe he wouldn’t have. I don’t know. Turns out, I didn’t know a lot of things.
Brantley Calloway had secrets. A lot of them. And I never had a clue.
I ate at his table, fished on his boat…drank his beer.
He’s the reason I’m living on the island now.
Without his support, I’d still be up to my ears in open homicide cases in Seattle.
Instead, I’m one of two detectives in San Juan County.
I spend the majority of my time investigating the bullshit that comes with tourism—assaults, robberies, theft.
My job is golden compared to what it used to be.
Working homicide wears you down. It’s sixteen-hour shifts, six and seven days a week.
There’s an endless parade of names and faces forever burned into my mind.
None died easy. Most don’t rest easy either.
Justice doesn’t bring back the dead or heal broken hearts.
It never made much of a dent in the stack of open files on my desk, either.
I thought I had left all that behind. And then Marnie called me three months ago. She was hysterical, screaming that Brant was dead. My neatly ordered existence blew up in my face right then and there. I did what I had to do to protect the people who matter, but I damned myself in the process.
There are some things Raven never needs to know.
I’ll take those secrets to my grave to protect her. There isn’t a lot I won’t do for her.
When we met three years ago, she knocked me flat on my ass with those big blue eyes.
When she isn’t singing, she’s the sweetest little lamb, so shy and quiet.
But as soon as she opens that mouth, she turns into a siren, alluring and confident.
The combination fascinates me. But she’s Brantley’s kid, so I’ve spent the last three years avoiding the hell out of her.
I thought eventually I’d forget about her.
That never happened. But I managed to keep from occupying the same space as her for three fucking years. I managed to keep my hands to myself.
Right up until Brant died.
As soon as I picked her up from the airport, I hugged her, and it was over for me.
I didn’t leave her side the whole time she was here for the funeral.
I couldn’t. The guilt tore me apart. Seeing her so fucking sad broke my heart.
She deserves answers about what happened to her father, but I have none to give her.
None that won’t tear her world apart, anyway.
She idolized her dad. Knowing what I know won’t help her sleep easy.
All it’ll do is destroy the image she has of the man who worshipped the ground she walked on.
My gaze drifts to the file spread across my kitchen table, my mind working through the facts for the thousandth time. None of it makes sense, yet it’s all there in black and white. I have more questions than answers, and the deeper I look, the more I wish I’d left it the fuck alone.
Brantley Calloway was in bed with the mob. His money was dirty. His company was dirty. He was dirty.
And his pregnant wife killed him.
“Rhys!” Cassia cries. “Are you even listening to me?”
“Yes, I’m listening to you,” I say, shaking my head to clear it.
“Then what did I say?” she demands to know.
I didn’t hear a word she said, but Cassia is easy to figure out.
“You’re bitching at me about threatening to kill your man,” I say, ticking each point off on my fingers.
“He’s the love of your life and my new brother-in-law.
I need to stop threatening to kill him all the time.
It makes you sad. You want the world to be full of rainbows and butterflies and everyone you love to hold hands and sing kumbaya around the campfire. ”
“I did not say that,” she says, laughing. “You are so full of it.”
“I was paraphrasing. And you know it’s true anyway.”
“Whatever,” she huffs. “I do not want you to hold hands with Cord.” Her soft laughter floats down the line again. “But maybe you can stop threatening to kill him so much? You’ve made your point already. He’s not going anywhere.”
“I deal with drunk tourists who like to fight all day long, Cassia. Threatening him is the only joy left in my life.”
“You mean since your friend died.”
I growl at her, my brows pulling together in a deep scowl even though she can’t see me. “We aren’t talking about that.”
“Why not?”
“Cassia.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Don’t you have a husband to terrorize? Or a book to write? Or a runaway bull to hunt down?”
“No. I mean, yes, probably. But you never talk about your stuff,” she complains. “You just act all ‘me man, me feel no pain’ about it. It’s lame. You can talk to me, you know.”
“Me man, me feel no pain?” I repeat, chuckling despite myself.
I love my sister. She’s completely crazy, and Cord will have his hands full for the rest of his life, but she’s also the best person I know.
Our mother put her through hell growing up, but she never let it stop her from being her.
She’s wild and messy and has no filter. But she loves fiercely and never apologizes for it.
“You know what I mean. You just keep it all to yourself and never talk about it. I worry about you, Rhys,” she says, her voice soft. “Especially with you out on the island by yourself.”
“I’m fine, Cassia. I’m dealing with it.”
“How?”
“By dealing with it.”
She growls at me.
“I’m not talking to you about my job. You don’t need to know anything about murders and murderers or any of the fucked-up shit that goes on in this world,” I say, my tone firm as I pace around the kitchen.
The whole back wall of the house looks out over the water, flooding the house with natural light when it’s sunny out.
Thanks to the storm, shadows overtake the kitchen now, creeping into the corners.
They fit my mood. “You need to write your books and keep pouring light into the world. I’ll deal with the dark. ”
“You’re working his case?”
There is no case to work. Seattle PD is chasing a carefully crafted lie.
“Not officially.”
“But you’re working it.”
“Yes,” I sigh instead of telling her the ugly truth. She doesn’t need to know the lies I’ve told and the crimes I’ve committed. “I’m working it.”
“Okay,” Cassia says and then drops the subject. “Are you going to see Lindee and your dad soon?”
“Probably not. They’re in Cancun.” Now that my dad is retired, he and my stepmom spend most of their time traveling. They come home for holidays and major events but otherwise live like nomads. They love it.