The plan was to get Cade’s things before Mom came back from the Women of Christ Charity Brunch that Sinclair’s wife hosts once a month at Barefoot Beach Resort. Little do those gossiping socialites know, they’re writing checks to fund drug trafficking, fraud and some things exponentially more sinister.
The sky-blue Lexus SUV chirps as Mom clicks her key fob and approaches, dressed like a damn doily.
“Seba…” She turns her nose up. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
That’s when I notice the woman following her. My mouth sours. Beverly Aldrich— wife of Sinclair’s maindonorand Fort Manor’s top plastic surgeon. The bitch is a fucking weed that needs to get ripped out.
“I’m actually just leaving.”
Mom eyes me skeptically as Beverly gives me a heinous attempt at bedroom eyes.
“What a shame,” she croons. “But I’m sure I’ll see you around St. Gemma’s soon.”
My nostrils flare, vitriol bubbling magma in my veins.
Mom daintily touches my bicep. “We’re so proud of Seba’s dedication to the congregation.”
The closest thing I can manage to a smile is a grimaced show of teeth. “Tell Declan to call me back.”
I’m climbing behind the wheel when Mom tugs on my sleeve, hissing, “Where the hell is Cade?”
Knew that was coming. I wasn’t about to mention he’s waiting for me at my apartment in front of Beverly just for it to get back to Sinclair.
“He’s safe.”
“That’s not an answer. You promised Declan?—”
“I didn’t promise anything. I said I’d go with him to the club and I did. It’s not my fault Declan didn’t answer the phone this morning.” I shift the truck into reverse. “I’ve got shit to do.”
“Sebastian.”
I step on the gas. The engine revs. The tires spit gravel. She jumps back with a surprised gasp. Blowing out of the drive, I angle for the backroads.
One last errand.
The bright green sign of the local garden center comes into view fifteen minutes later. I’m the only one in the lot aside from a flatbed trailer stocked with mulch. The sun's unforgiving rays beat down on my shoulders and hat as I weave through potted palms, birds of paradise and gardenias, headed for the floral department.
A bell chimes. Cool, humid mist blows from a spigot next to a rotating fan, spreading the scent of well water, fresh soil and moss. An organized, lush jungle stretches in all directions.
I’m so out of my element.
“Hello there!”
A woman in elbow-high yellow gloves emerges from behind a cart of snake plants, her salt-and-pepper hair twisted into a messy knot on the top of her head.
I glance around. “I, uh… need some flowers?”
No way, genius.
She just smiles and wipes her gloves on her stained apron. “That I can help you with. What kind you got in mind, hon?”
My brain scrambles. I have no idea what kind of flowers Cade likes. Or if he’d even want any. Do men like getting flowers?
“They for someone special?” She prods. The metal badge pinned to her apron reads, Maggie.
I nod.
Maggie grins. “Tell me about her.”
