Page 13 of Bourbon and Secrets

“Drinking on the job?” Cortez says as he leans next to me.

I tilt the club soda toward him. “Considering it.” My eyes flick down to see what he’s wearing. Jeans that fit tight in the thighs, brown boots, and a white-collared shirt tucked in beneath his sports coat. Even if he took some time to get ready, he still looks exactly like an off-duty cop. “Didn’t realize you’d be here tonight,” I say with a curious lift of my eyebrow.

“I need eyes on this guy but, more importantly, I need to know exactly who he’s shaking hands with,” he explains. I watch as two women give Cortez an interested glance as they pass by. “In a perfect world, you get on the invite list for that private event, Faye.” My surveillance determined that Blackstone is running his private auction this month—something that piqued the FBI’s attention immediately. The estate he rented to host this private affair is smack dab along the county border.

Cortez’s gaze flitters away, and he hums, like he just realized something.

“What?” I ask, curious if he’ll share more with me.

“Ace Foxx wasn’t who I thought I’d see rubbing elbows with him,” Cortez says as he stands tall. “I can’t say I’m all that surprised. This just got a helluva lot more juicy. Do you remember any calls or emails between them?”

On the coattails of Atticus Foxx is another man I don’t recognize, and behind him is the person I’d watched too closely for far longer than anyone ever should.

Brock Blackstone is nothing more than a swindler. A man who runs one of the largest auction house businesses in the US. He’s a curator, having developed a knack for getting people what they needed. The same way Christies or Sotheby’s auctions things, like antiquities and priceless jewelry to fine art and historical land markers, Blackstone Auctions does the same. But I discovered quickly that it’s Blackstone’sprivateauctions that are worth a little more attention.

I shake my head. “I would’ve flagged it.”

If I thought it through, Foxx Bourbon is the most sought-after brand of bourbon around the world. It isn’t surprising to see the head of that brand with someone like Blackstone. I just hadn’t prepared for it. That’s a problem. I should have. Their bourbon is auction-worthy. The reselling of rare bourbon ranges anywhere from a few hundred dollars over label pricing to somewhere north of ten, even twenty thousand. Blackstone Auctions holds auctions all over the world, but it’s the figurehead’s private auctions that are in the FBI’s crosshairs. What he procures for these auctions, and for whom, is what I’m supposed to find out. Cortez is tight-lipped about exactly what they’re looking for, just that they need any and all intel.

“If there had been any sign of a Foxx involved, Cortez, I wouldn’t be involved in this.” I push away from the bar and move farther away from where Blackstone and his small party have settled in. As much as it pissed me off, I’d made a deal. I needed to stay clear of the Foxx family if I was going to be back in Fiasco for any length of time. We had an agreement, and I was bending it by being here.

“What do you mean, you’re leaving?” Maggie asked in disbelief. It had only been a few weeks since I came back from the Police Academy over in Frankfort. Before then, I was away for my undergrad. I only traveled back home during breaks. It felt good to stretch my legs and have my own life away from home. But I missed being here. I knew she missed me, too, but she was busy with school now. The University of Kentucky kept her living at home, but she went out with friends when she wasn’t in class or studying. She would be okay without me here.

“I’m having second thoughts about what I really want to be doing, and I need to clear my head. I found an apartment, and I’m going to get some space from here.” I folded up the clothes in the laundry basket, trying to control my trembling hands. I felt sick having to lie to her. I didn’t want to go anywhere. Iwanted to keep my plans, but that wasn’t possible anymore. If I wanted everything to stay buried, and for Lincoln Foxx to keep his end of the agreement, then I needed to leave. I fucking hated him for making me leave like this.

“Faye,” Maggie said quietly. Her eyes watered as she watched me move around my room. If I stopped moving, I’d start crying, and I couldn’t do that right now. “Mom’s upset. She didn’t get out of bed for work, and I’m worried...I think?—”

But I cut her off. “I can’t—” I correct myself. “I’m allowed to change my mind, Maggie, about what I want to do for the rest of my life. And becoming a police officer sounded better than the reality of it.” I swallow down the way it hurt to say any of this. “Mom understands. Why can’t you?”

She widened her stance. “That’s what you’re sticking with then? You changed your mind about a career you’ve been talking about for the past decade of your life? Are you sure you have nothing else to tell me?”

I had made a choice, and I’d make it all over again if it meant protecting the people I love. And if that also meant I had to lie to my sister about it, then I would.

Chapter 6

Lincoln

I spinmy gold band around my finger. I only wore it when I was around my girls. It hasn’t meant what it was supposed to for a long time—a promise to love someone. It’s a promise I hadn’t realized had been broken. And I couldn’t even be mad about it. I mourned someone I was so angry with, so many words left unspoken between us. A family curse, a tragedy, whatever anyone would call what happened to Olivia, it doesn’t matter. I lived through it all, knowing what she’d done to break us. And it feels like it left me that way too.

“I have no desire to fix it. I stopped loving you a long time ago.” She said it like she was sorry, but like I should have known that she had kept secrets so well that it never crossed my mind that she’d had any in the first place.

So now, the ring came off when I’m not playing any of the roles I’ve been given—lonely widower, single parent, loving father, or Kentucky’s most sought-after master distiller. When Ineed to be someone other than the easy-going Foxx brother and take what I want instead of following pleasantries or rules.

GRIZ

You planning to talk about your batch any time soon?

My grandfather is pushy when he’s excited about something. Hell, he’s pushy about most things. He just delivers it in a way that makes it seem like your idea. And when it comes to bourbon, he’s always excited. Ever since my baby brother released his special edition of bourbon, Griz expected both Ace and me to do the same. Exceeding expectations is Ace’s department. I’m expected to put out great bourbon every day, and now I need to do something exemplary. I’m not excited or inspired by that. If anything, I’m annoyed.

I have an idea about what I could do, but it isn’t going to go over well. My grandfather is open-minded, but Ace is adamant about following the rules. He doesn’t want to put out anything other than bourbon. No bourbon finished in specialty barrels or anything that could steer away from the core of what Foxx Bourbon delivers. I can’t find the right time to pitch my idea because of that, so I’ve been ignoring Griz’s question any time he asks.

Clearing my throat, I stare in the mirror, wiping the condensation from the shower with one swipe. More lines around my eyes than I remember. Still plenty of hair on my head. It’s one asset the Foxx men have in our favor. Even Griz still has a thick head of hair. Though he’s almost stark white now, matching his thick mustache. At one time, he and I looked the most alike. Our hair was darker brown than both my brothers’, and wavy when it was long enough. Maybe it’s time for a new look. I clean up around my neck with the razor, butinstead of a clean shave, I leave my five o’clock shadow. It’s the middle of winter, and the weather is cold anyway.

“Dad, are you almost done? I need to get my robe.” Lily knocks, then again, louder, not even a few seconds later. “Can you hear me? Are you staring at yourself in the mirror again?”

Jesus, this kid.

Chuckling, I wrap the towel around my waist and open the door. “Why is your robe in my bathroom?”

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