Page 26 of Betrayal In Calusa Cove
Books ripped from their shelves. Pages torn. Photos upended. A frame with a picture of her and Ken—lay face down, the glass spiderwebbed. The damage—surgical—violent.
And it felt freaking personal.
With her hands balled into fists, she walked to the center of the room, staring down at the carnage, and something inside her snapped. Her gut twisted as if a tornado swirled, hurling around her insides, and tossing them aside like they were simply in the way.
Baily let out a guttural scream and kicked the edge of her overturned ottoman so hard it slammed into the wall. She picked up the broken frame and hurled it at the closet door. The glass shattered, raining down like hail. “I want to bring my brother back from the dead and wrap my fingers around his neck and?—”
“Baily—”
She spun toward Fletcher, but all she saw was red. There was no fear. No worry about bills. No concern over when or if she’d ever be able to climb out from the rubble her father had created.
He hadn’t done this.
Her brother had, and he was reaching up from the grave and doing it all again. “I am done. Do you hear me?” Her chest rose and fell in quick, angry bursts. “I have played nice. I have smiled and stayed quiet and paid my bills and done everything I was supposed to. And for what?”
He reached for her, but she stepped back, waving her hands wildly. She’d always felt as though everything in her life was out of reach. Out of control. Like, no matter what she did, she couldn’t fix it. Couldn’t make it right. But she’d done what she always had, because she’d foolishly believed that tomorrow was a promise of a new beginning. That one day, she’d wake up from this nightmare. That if she put her head down, did the hard work, she’d be rewarded.
However, now she knew the truth. Playing nice would get her nothing but a trip to the bank to file for bankruptcy.
“I need you to calm down.” Fletcher lowered his chin.
“I will not,” she snapped. “I’m always calm. I’m always smiles, sunshine, and unicorns. I put on brave face and take everything on the chin. But no more. No more being careful. No more weathering the storm. No more waiting for the other shoe to drop or hoping people will do the right thing.”
“Whoever did this?—”
“Wants me afraid. Wants me to close up shop and wither away into the Everglades.” Her voice dropped to a dangerous whisper.
“Baily,” Fletcher said. “They were looking for something.” He waved his hand. “They tore through this place because they think you have something they want, and it’s more than the marina.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Because of where they went looking.” He pointed toward her ripped-up mattress. “Hiding places.”
She blew out a puff of air. “I can’t imagine what they think I have, but I won’t let them rattle me. Not anymore. I won’t let this break me. All they did was make me want to fight for what’s mine—harder.” She pounded the center of her chest before she stepped over her slashed pillow and faced him. Her voice was steel now. “I’m not playing nice in the damn sandbox anymore. I’m coming out swinging.”
The front door creaked behind them. Dawson’s voice called out, low and steady. “It’s us.”
Hayes and Keaton filed in behind him, weapons holstered but expressions hard.
Fletcher nodded. “Looks like you’ve got another crime scene here.”
And Baily? She stood in the center of it, rage shimmering off her like heat. Whatever game had started, it had just changed.
Baily Mitchell was officially done being the prey.
Chapter 7
The Calusa Cove coffee shop was already half-full by six-thirty. The smell of dark roast and vanilla syrup lingered out the front doors like smoke floating toward the sky, mingling with the salty morning air that drifted in from the marina. Fletcher pushed through the door. Since he’d been the first to arrive, he ordered three coffees.
He made his way to the pick-up counter and waited only a few minutes. Taking the to-go cups, he raced to the table by the door. The one facing the front window. The one where he could see who was coming in and out. Old habits died hard, and this one might never go away.
A few minutes later, Hayes and Chloe stepped inside, shuffling their feet across the floor before plopping down with a collective sigh.
Hayes sat with one arm draped over the back of his chair. He reached across the table, snagging one of the coffees, and sipped.
Chloe took off her baseball cap and did the same.
“Morning,” Fletcher said, cocking a brow. “Or are we struggling to use our vocal cords?”
