Page 41 of Pirates in Calusa Cove

They had reconnected when Keaton had joined the Navy. Foster had been there for him when Petra died. He’d been his rock. The least Keaton could do was be there for him when his parents had died and he’d been deployed on some supersecret mission, in an undisclosed area, unable to do jack shit.

Keaton had stepped in. He’d taken care of the details and made sure Foster got what he’d needed for his parents.

But those emotions were still so raw for Foster. It was evident when Keaton had visited after Foster had returned Stateside, right before he’d retired. Right after that messed-up mission. Both men had become slightly broken—slightly left of center—but they were vertical.

“How’s the house coming?” Keaton asked, needing his brain to rattle with nothing but cobwebs, but he wasn’t sure that was possible.

“You didn’t call me to bullshit about my DIY projects,” Foster said. “I suspect one of the reasons is you’re going to tell me you’re going to cancel your visit next week.”

“That’s one of the reasons,” Keaton admitted.

“What’s the rest of them?”

Keaton set his beer aside and pinched the bridge of his nose. Usually, he went to Dawson, Hayes, and Fletcher for anything that demanded advice. It didn’t happen often, but those men were family as much as Foster. And while they’d all been there when Petra haddied, they hadn’t seen him lose his shit quite the same way Foster had.

Sure, those three—well, four, because Ken had still been alive—had held him while he’d cried. Stood next to him when he’d buried her. They’d also had to work with him and help him deal with those demons, day in and day out, until he was close to being a whole man again.

Keaton would have surely drunk himself to death had it not been for any of those men. But Foster had become a different kind of lifeline.

“It’s twofold,” Keaton started. “First, I met a girl.”

“One you’re serious about?” Foster asked with a voice that made him sound like a small child. It screeched and was high-pitched.

Keaton chuckled at the noise. “I’m not sure.”

“Only you wouldn’t know how you feel about a woman.”

“It’s complicated,” Keaton said. “And someone tried to kill her.”

“Jesus. Why?”

“That’s a long story, and I’ll send you the details. A second set of trained eyes on what’s going on there can only help,” Keaton said. “If you don’t mind giving me your take on the situation.”

“Not at all. Don’t think twice about that. You’d do the same for me.”

“Thanks.” Keaton lifted his beer and chugged half. He checked the computer screen, tapping on a few keystrokes and checking every angle he could.

Silas drove down the canal in one of his boats, waving.

Keaton nodded.

“So,” Foster said with a long draw. “You called me to get advice regarding a woman. Why?”

“She has this habit of trying to gain people’s respect, and sometimes when she does it, she ends up being reckless. It’s how she managed to get herself in this situation.”

“Cuz, someone trying to kill her is not her fault,” Foster reminded him with a dark tone.

“I’m not saying she’s to blame.” Keaton often fumbled over his words when he had to deal with emotional things. He’d been worried when he’d spoken at his aunt and uncle’s funerals. He’d been terrified he’d trip over his tongue. He’d managed not to botch it up, but this was different. This was about him. “And to be fair, for a full year, I’ve been harsh. It’s amazing we ended up in the same room alone together and didn’t kill each other.”

“How long have you been dating?”

Keaton laughed. “I’m not even sure we can call it that, but if we are, a couple of days.”

“And she’s got you this crazy? Jeez, Cuz, what’s in the water in the Everglades besides gators and pythons?”

“Like I said, she’s been under my skin for a lot longer, but I kept my distance because all I saw was a girl doing crazy things to get the respect of others. The thing was, I got some of it wrong. Hell, I got a lot of it wrong. But that’s not even the point. I keep kind of fucking up. I keep acting like some raging, overly aggressive, controlling boyfriend. I’m a hundred timesworse than I was with Petra. I mean, I feel like I’m becoming that thing she called me, and what’s even worse, Trinity called me that, too.”

“Man, we both know you are not that word,” Foster said. “But between the way Petra was—and let’s face it, she was out to prove something—and how you were raised, it’s always going to be hard for you to put that genie in a bottle.”

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