Page 44 of All For You Duet

It works that way, right?

If I sacrifice myself to get rid of the evil, will I have revenge? Will Redix have peace? Will those victims have justice?

What’ll happen to me when I do it? The afterward.

I don’t care.

But with every year that’s passed. Every crime that’s been committed. Every victim that looks like me.

I will end it.

“Bryant.” Jameson’s voice sounds annoyed, pulling me back from hell. “If you don’t answer me, I’m turning on the dubstep.”

He reaches from the driver’s seat of his patrol car. His phone is inches from his fingertip.

“You play that shit, and you’re buying lunch today.”

We’re on our way to Shelter Cove. I gotta deliver this package for my dad that came to my house. I’m meeting him at the marina. I talked Jameson into coming with me and splitting some oysters for lunch, killing two birds with one fun stone.

“Well, then answer me.” Jameson grins. It’s cute. “What did you find on your wild goose chase?”

“It’s not a wild goose chase. It’s a score. Four of the victims so far were renting condos from Sunset Rentals.”

“That means five weren’t renting from them, remember?”

He parks his patrol car under the shade of a crepe myrtle.

“Yeah,” I answer, “but guess who’s the owner of Sunset Rentals and a partial silent investor in The Pelican?”

Jameson looks my way, intrigued by the new intel. “Who?”

“Our very own South Carolina’s youngest State Senator, Gentry Evans.”

He’s target number two.

“Why do you hate him so much?” he asks as we aim toward the marina slip where I’m meeting my dad.

“Besides his sexist, racist, homophobic politics?” I slide on my shades. “Everything. Gentry Evans is loaded with power, money, and pure malice. Trust me.”

“That’s your hate, not proof. We need evidence.”

“You and your evidence.” I know he’s right as I wave, spotting Dad on a yacht I don’t recognize. “When are you gonna learn to trust your instinct too?”

“When instinct wins us cases.”

Walking single-file, we make our way down the narrow dock.

If Dad’s height doesn’t make him stand out, his sun-bleached brown hair and handsome face do.

Yep, my dad, Jeff Bryant—he’s a catch.

“My Magnolia,” he calls out.

And I roll my eyes. That damn name is his fault. I hate it, but I love him.

Jameson and I jump aboard the Grady White. Dad already knows my sidekick. But I don’t know the man who emerges from the boat’s cabin, punching my breath away at the sight of him.

“Silas,” my dad says, “this is my daughter, Sergeant Cade Bryant, and the man who puts up with her on the daily, Deputy Grant Jameson.”

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