Page 40 of Betrayal In Calusa Cove
“I’d like to believe it’s because Massey had something on him, not because Ken had some weird loyalty to the man.”
Dawson nodded. “Like maybe the Barbaros were holding something over his head. Could’ve manufactured some bullshit like they’re doing with Decker, or it could’ve been something as simple as, if you don’t do this for us, we’ll ruin your career because we have proof you used to be a drug dealer for the cartel. That’ll get you kicked out of the Navy real fast.”
“And once he had kids with their daughter, they could’ve held those boys over him,” Fletcher said. “But we’re pulling in a lot of what-ifs with no real knowledge right now, except our gut feelings that Ken was hiding something. We need to dig more.”
“Agreed.” Dawson inched closer to his vehicle. “I better get going. I’ll let you know if I find anything.”
“I’ll see you later.” Fletcher headed toward his truck. His mind filled with questions and no real answers. He slipped behind the steering wheel. The only thing he knew for sure was that he hadn’t really known his best friend at all.
Chapter 11
Baily crouched near the edge of the dock, tightening the hose fitting for one of the water lines while Bingo tossed off a coil of rope. The sun hung low behind a blanket of haze, casting a soft gray hue over the marina. The air was cool, which was pleasant, and the scents of salt, grease, and mangroves lifted from the earth and wafted in the breeze.
This had always been the dream. Sure, it was hard work. It often brought too little money. But the rewards—they were greater than any fat bank account, even in the midst of chaos, especially now that she had friends she could call family.
She’d always had friends in Calusa Cove. People who were not only loyal to the marina but also loyal to her and her father’s vision. She couldn’t imagine being anywhere else in the world. This patch of land had something magical. Something so special that when anyone dared to drift in the waters, they always wanted more.
“You think the tourists will ever stop asking if they’ll see dolphins in the Everglades?” Bingo grunted, tossing another coiled line into a crate.
Tourists were an interesting breed. Many thought every stop on their itinerary, including a gas station, was meant for their entertainment, and Baily didn’t understand them one bit.
“Not a chance,” Baily said, crouching to help. “Yesterday, someone asked me if the manatees here were friendly enough to pet, like they’re labradors or something.”
“They’re not fast animals, so people can touch them half the time.” Bingo snorted. “But that doesn’t mean they should, and we should get a big sign that says: ‘This ain’t SeaWorld.’”
“Well, you’ll love this one then.” Baily stood tall, stretching out her back. “A family stopped to gas up for the boat parade. A mom and her kid got off looking for some snacks. They saw a few gators and asked if there was a feeding machine so they could toss them some food.”
“That is about the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” Bingo shook his head. “I’ll never understand why some kids think it’s funny to feed them marshmallows.” Bingo sighed. “Last year, one of them damn near got their foot taken off after their kayak flipped over and the gator went for the bag of treats.”
“Gators aren’t bright. They see food, they go after it,” Baily said. “All those kids are doing is training them to follow kayaks, paddleboards, and other small vessels in the water. It’s a disaster waiting to happen.”
“Agreed.”
Footsteps echoed from behind her, heavy and unfamiliar. Baily stiffened, rising slowly. She turned to see Decker Brown stepping off the gravel lot and onto the dock like he had every right to be there. She straightened, wiping her hands on her jeans as a cold rush prickled down her spine.
Fletcher had warned her to tread lightly when it came to him. Not to say too much, to keep her cool, and when he showed, to point him in the direction of her office.
She still resented that last part of the sentence. Ever since Fletcher had told her about his drinks with Decker last night, her anger had coiled like a snake in the pit of her stomach. It was hot and ready to strike.
“You lost, or just looking to get thrown into the canal as alligator feed?” she asked with a kind, sweet tone.
Fletcher would be at least proud of the fact she hadn’t raised her voice.
Progress.
Decker hesitated, clearly uncomfortable in his designer boat shoes and pressed polo shirt, which clashed against the working grit of the marina. He looked around before answering, voice low, “I’m guessing Fletcher told you. I’m sorry.”
“It’s a little late for sorry,” she mumbled. “For which I’m not interested in hearing.”
“I guess I can’t blame you.” He shifted his weight. “Is Fletcher inside?”
Baily narrowed her eyes, glancing around to make sure no one else was watching. “For the record, I don’t like this game. Fletcher made a stink about you meeting here. About waving a white flag. Said it might be better if someone saw you walking into the marina and not a bar. He used the word optics. But don’t think for one second I’m thrilled about playing hostess or even want to listen to this shit. You lied, and I don’t care what the reason is.”
Decker shifted awkwardly. “Look, I didn’t come to cause trouble. I didn’t know?—”
She cut him off with a sharp wave of her hand. “You caused trouble the moment you rolled into this town thinking you could trade in your problems by creating them for someone else.”
“I didn’t know what I was getting into.”
