“Sheriff,” is all I say. When we bumped into each other on the fishing trip, he never told me anything beyond his first name. His eyes are wild as he looks around the small, dingy room in Dax’s basement. He set it up this way on purpose. It doesn’t look intimidating, and it did its job. It lulled this fool into a false sense of security.
“What the hell is this?” He squints at me as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing.
“That depends on what you do next,” Dax says. “You’re two hundred and thirteen thousand in the hole.” He has been down six figures for a week, but like any true addict, he thought he could turn it around. “I’m gonna need the deed to your house or we’re going to have a problem.” Dax drops the smirk. He likes to hide behind his jovial demeanor, but he’s the most ruthless person I’ve ever met. The best part is, no one knows, and he gets to hide in plain sight.
Dropping his head in his hands again, Rose sighs in defeat.
“I can’t do that,” he whispers. “My wife—” He never finishes his sentence, but we already know. He looks up again and into my eyes.
“Now, what did you say about your wife?” I ask with a hint of amusement. If only the sheriff knew that his wife had a few secrets of her own, but I’m not here to air her dirty laundry. Besides, his knowing that he married a cheater works against me. For this to work, I need them to stay married.
“Ryan?” Rose’s voice trembles.
“Ripley.”
“Why did you lie and tell me your name is Ryan?”
“I didn’t lie.” I always keep things as close to the truth as possible. “I’m Ripley Ryan King, and you’re going to have to give up that deed.”
“What the hell is going on? When I saw you in Florida, you said you were fishing.”
The man never saw me with a fishing pole or a companion, but then, I made sure to approach him only after he had a few too many beers. That’s another thing about the sheriff I can’t stand. Drunken fool.
“I hate fishing, Sheriff. Critters that swim in the ocean make my skin crawl.” Dax chuckles, and if I had a sense of humor, I’d smile, but I scowl instead. “Things would be so much easier for you if you cheated on your wife.”
His head rolls back in confusion. Dax stands, walks around the table, and puts a hand on Rose’s shoulder. The jovial man is back, and he’ll stay that way as long as he gets what he wants.
“Don’t talk about my wife,” Rose warns.
“Why not? We couldn’t do this without her,” I say with a straight face.
“Tone it down,” Dax says. “No need to rub his nose in it. Sit down, Sheriff.” Dax points at Rose’s empty chair. “There are some things we need to discuss.”
“What’s going on here?” Rose asks, still clearly confused.
I shake my head in disappointment. For someone in law enforcement, the man can be incredibly naïve.
“I’m willing to forget about your debt,” Dax says.
“You?”
“Me.”
“Why? What do you want?”
“I want Shadow Cove, and you’re going to help me get it.”
Now
Dax finally leaves me and whistles for his dog. Finch, an eighty-pound black Doberman, runs to him. He rubs behindher ears. Dax sits on the La-Z-Boy across from me, and the dog sits at his feet.
“What about the meeting with Brennan?” I ask. “I don’t like it.” I give my two cents before he says a word.
“They have five big shipments coming in the next twelve months. Once it’s done, we’re out. There won’t be a sit-down with Brennan. My arrangement is with his brothers, not him,” Dax says.
“I’ll ask Preacher to dig deeper with Brennan. Should we get Armstrong to have someone tail him?”
Preacher sets up our shell companies, crypto, and offshore accounts. He also vets all potential new clients. Sam Armstrong is a local lawyer we use for intel on the town’s residents and for dirty work. He’s the one who let it slip that Rose and his wife were going to marital counseling.
