The Guard's Last Watch (A Bexley Squires Mystery)
Page 8
“Thanks, Luke,” she said before they parted ways.
Grayson was quiet until they climbed into his Bronco. Staring straight ahead, he remained motionless. “Hawkins was at your place last night, wasn’t he? That’s who’d been drinking the beer. That’s why you were so uptight.”
Her heart squeezed painfully hard with his betrayed tone. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to put you in a compromising situation.”
When he turned to her, his eyes shone with anger. “But it was okay to humiliate me by letting him hear everything I had to say to you?”
“You basically forced your way in,” she reminded him. “Besides, he was long gone by then.”
“If you’ve moved on…” He turned away, palming the back of his neck as his head dropped backward. “I hope you’d have the decency to tell me.”
Her stomach dropped as she wet her lips. “I don’t know what to tell you, Gray.” While nothing physical had transpired between them, Bexley would be lying if she claimed her relationship with Brewer wasn’t of any importance. She certainly wasn’t in the right state of mind to declare she had feelings for either man. “I just need…some time…and space.”
Lips pressed into a tight line, Grayson started the vehicle. They each remained silent for the entire ride back to Stronghold Investigations. In the parking lot, Bexley checked her phone for the time. The park where she was to meet Brewer was on the other side of Papaya Springs, and the trip could take longer than usual with rush hour traffic. She hated leaving Grayson, especially given their last conversation.
“Thanks for the lift,” she told him, reaching for the passenger’s side handle before he’d killed the engine. “I have to meet with a witness on another case. I’m not sure how long it’ll take. We can finish watching the event footage in the morning.”
Grayson turned the key and shook his head. “I know how the idle stuff gets on your nerves. I’ll head inside and finish it up myself. I’ll be just fine without you.”
Though she knew what he meant, the words still hit home. As she started for her SUV, a single question burned in the back of her mind. Would she be fine without him?
Bexley made it to the meeting place with five minutes to spare. Worried the sheriff had put a tail on her, she’d made unnecessary turns several times.
It was an unusually warm day for the end of October in Papaya Springs, but the park’s proximity to the ocean kept it ten degrees cooler than it’d been in the heart of the city. Bexley removed her sandals and sunk her toes into the warm sand before plopping down on a small mound and rolling her slacks up to her knees.
A dozen yards away, a young family worked on building a sandcastle with plastic shovels and buckets. Several small sailboats bounced lazily far off in the distance, and a few young women in wetsuits with skimboards under their arms watched with long faces as weak waves drizzled against the shoreline.
Moonlight Falls Park had been one of Bexley’s favorite areas in Papaya Springs for as long as she could remember. The wealthy locals didn’t frequent the area because of the seaweed and dead fish that washed to shore throughout the day. The middle class eventually stopped coming because of the stench. The park was known for being quiet, which attributed to its higher participation in the city’s crime rate.
Bexley closed her eyes, letting the sun warm her face. The early evening tide had washed away any unsavory odors, filling her lungs with the crisp scent of the ocean. She’d been “burning the candle at both ends” as J.J. called it ever since she returned to Papaya Springs, and was in dire need of a getaway. Preferably to a remote location without WiFi, cell service, or people.
Maybe Kiersten or Cineste would be up for a girls’ trip once she’d recovered the earrings and untangled Brewer’s mess. She wrapped her arms around her knees, losing herself in the idea of kicking back on a beach in Hawaii with a tropical drink in one hand and an engaging romance novel in the other. Maybe if she broke away from her life for a week or two, she could focus on her feelings for Grayson. She needed to decide once and for all what she wanted out of life, and if he could exist in that vision. Either way, it wasn’t fair to leave him in limbo.
The heady scent of tobacco, leather, and masculine soap encompassed her a second before Brewer sank into the sand at her side. He wore black cargo shorts and a gray T-shirt, a ratty baseball cap pulled down to a pair of black Wayfarer sunglasses, motorcycle jacket tucked under one arm. His back was stiff, and his expression was hard. Something was wrong.
Fists clenched in her lap, Bexley stared at the crown tattooed on the back of his hand as he cupped it over a cigarette and lighter. She couldn’t decide if she wanted to pull him in close, or knock him out.
“Where have you been?” she snapped.
Once his cigarette was lit, he took a long drag and blew smoke out his nose before turning to her. “Had some stuff to take care of.”
“You could’ve left a note.”
“It sounded like you and your boyfriend needed space,” he answered, shrugging. “Besides, I wasn’t going to let you take the fall for harboring a wanted felon.”
Her teeth clamped together. “You know about the warrant.”
“I figured somethin’ like that would be comin’.” He turned to stare out at the ocean, eyes unfocused. “One of my Coastie buddies was found dead in his apartment this morning. They’re ruling it as a suicide, but I know better. It was only a matter of time before they came after us.”
A chill swept through Bexley’s core. As badly as she wanted to comfort him, she wanted to drag him down to the station even more to make him tell Grayson everything. “Who are ‘they’, Brewer? What are you running from?” When he didn’t answer, she dug her fingernails into the palms of her hands. “I know about the obscene amount of money you’re hiding. I know about the hospital bills for someone named Isabella, and donations to foster care.”
He grunted with a humorless laugh. “You’ve been busy.”
“I know you were running from something even before Mexico happened.”
“Colt told me you suspected something was up.” He took another drag of the cigarette, releasing a little at a time as he spoke. “I was hoping he could help with my predicament.”
“When you say predicament, you mean trafficking cocaine?”
Jaw flexing, Brewer flicked the half-gone cigarette into the sand. “It’s not what you think.”
“That’s good, because right now I’m thinking how I may never see the light of day again for aiding and abetting a drug lord. Why didn’t you mention it earlier?” Her voice hitched when she asked, “How could you possibly believe it was something I didn’t need to know?”
“I didn’t think waking up in Mexico with a dead man would have anything to do with my past. I was convinced that part of my history was over with years ago. Then I got the call about Stinger this morning and heard about the warrant…it changed everything. Either way, I didn’t want to get you involved. You were better off not knowing for your own safety. This shit is serious business. Someone’s setting me up. I think they’re trying to get the cartel’s attention so I’ll become their problem.”
“Who would set you up? Who are they, Brewer?” she demanded in a firm tone.
He turned to her with a tight scowl. “It’s complicated.”
“I would hope it’s complicated, otherwise I couldn’t possibly understand why you’d ask for my help if you weren’t going to be honest from the start.”
He glanced down as his hands gripped his motorcycle jacket. “I’ve never lied to you.”
“Hasn’t it been established that omitting the truth and lying are the same thing?”
“I never wanted to be a criminal. I joined the Coast Guard because my birth mom O.D.’d on heroin two days after I was born. The docs said I was lucky she didn’t appear to have used while she was pregnant, or I may not’ve survived. I figured I’d do my part to help keep that shit from crossing our border so it wouldn’t happen to other kids.”
/> Taking a deep breath, Bexley let the tension ease from her shoulders. “That’s why you have a soft spot for kids in the system,” she realized. “You were raised in foster care because your mom died.”
She didn’t suspect someone as noble as Brewer ever had bad intentions. She sensed somewhere along the way, something had broken him. Something had forced him to give up on everything he believed in, and take a wrong turn—one that landed him in a cheap motel, and kept him from engaging in meaningful relationships.
Gently setting her hand on his arm, she waited until he looked up at her. When he finally did, she could see the hurt he’d been trying to conceal. It lingered just beyond the surface of his gaze, consuming him.
“If you still want my help, it’s imperative you tell me every last detail that might explain how those bricks of cocaine ended up in your storage unit. I can’t possibly help you out of this situation unless you’re straightforward with me. I want to know everything, from the beginning.”
Part II
9
San Pedro, California
7 years prior
What Brewer Hawkins thought he’d always remember about his last day on duty with the Coast Guard was the way the love of his life looked at him that morning…like she couldn’t wait for them to embark on a new adventure together. Pregnancy had made her more beautiful than ever. Her normally sharp cheek bones had filled out, and she’d taken on what he affectionately called her “mommy glow.” Her jet black hair had grown several inches past her shoulders in a matter of weeks, and had taken on more of a natural wave. When her pretty little pink lips bent with a smile, her cheeks flushed and her swollen breasts heaved beneath the flimsy white nightgown she’d purchased when her other pajamas no longer fit.
Every day since, he’d wished he would’ve called in sick, or given any excuse not to leave her. Anything that would’ve stopped his worst nightmare from taking place.
“Good morning, gorgeous,” Brewer whispered, taking her petite face in his large hands. He brushed his lips over hers in a soft, gentle kiss. She hated it when he kissed her before she had a chance to brush her teeth, but he savored any taste of her he could get. Sometimes it was the only thing that kept him going.
Before he could pull away she rolled to her side, wedging her swelling stomach between them, and deepening the kiss. Another advantage to her condition was the fact that she was in the mood for sex. All the damn time.
With a deep chuckle, he broke free from the suction of her mouth. “Baby, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I have to go. I’ll have all the time in the world to give you what you want after today.”
She released a low snort. “Yeah, except tomorrow the movers will be here, then we have two days to settle in the new place before my parents show up, and we’ll be stuck with them as house guests for who knows how long. Maybe until Junior arrives.”
“Wait,” he said, his lips quirking with a grin. “You’re calling our son Junior now? What happened to Matteo, and Gabriele, and whatever other weird-ass traditional names your mom’s always going on about?”
She shrugged one sun-kissed shoulder. “I don’t know…I’ve been thinking about it for awhile now, and I think Brewer Junior has a nice ring to it. Just because my parents are old fashioned and you don’t know anything about your birth father doesn’t mean we can’t start new traditions of our own with our boy.”
With a joyous holler, Brewer nudged her back onto her pillow and kissed her hard. He let the kiss evolve, deciding it was useless to deny her what she wanted. The moment he first laid eyes on the Italian knockout a year and a half prior, crying by herself on the beach with the news that her grandmother had passed away on the other side of the world, he had a premonition that she could one day become the light of his life.
With time, he realized it wasn’t only her smokin’ hot body in a little purple bikini, or the way her beautiful smile made him forget they weren’t alone on the beach that had him convinced. He’d never met anyone so full of positivity and compassion. She volunteered for half a dozen causes involving animals and senior citizens, and was working even more paid jobs so she could one day afford a degree in child education.
The night they sat in her apartment bathroom, and waited for the home test to confirm she was pregnant, Brewer knew there’d never be another woman in his life. He bent down with one knee on her tiled floor, and proposed without giving it a second thought. The next day, he started the process of transferring his GI benefits to her as an engagement present. He didn’t want her to worry about how she’d afford college.
He’d had a good run with the military, and he doubted he would’ve survived without it. His foster father may’ve beat him to death if enlisting early hadn’t been an option. But ever since he’d met the raven-haired beauty on the beach, he knew it was time to move on and start the kind of life he’d dreamed of as a kid—a stable home that was filled with happiness and love.
After they made gentle love that morning, Brewer showered and shaved before putting on his operational dress blues one last time. As always, there was a warm breakfast waiting for him when he was done. Considering how much time he’d lost attending to his fiancée’s needs, he barely had time to scarf it all down before it was time to make the ten minute drive to base.
Before heading out the door, he pulled her close. “Don’t forget to lock the door behind me.”
“Is it really necessary to remind me that every single morning?”
Ignoring her, he lowered to his knees and nudged her cotton top upward. “I love you, Junior Hawkins.” He kissed her round belly, pulling a happy little moan from her throat. “Be a good boy for your momma today. Don’t be kicking her kidneys and giving her heartburn.”
She bent to kiss the top of his head before helping him back to his feet. “You’re already the best daddy in the world,” she said, curling her fingers beneath his impeccably ironed collar. “And an insanely handsome one in this uniform. Have to say I’m going to miss seeing you decked out like this.” Standing on her toes, she brushed her lips over his. “I love you madly, Brewer Hawkins.”
He took his son’s beautiful mother in his arms, wondering how he got so damn lucky. His entire body glowed with joy when he grinned down on her. “I love you more than life itself, Isabella Romano.”
For as long as he lived, he’d never forget how breathtakingly stunning she looked as she waved goodbye from the kitchen window.
10
From the moment Brewer parked on base, he was filled with an unsettled feeling that started long before his team was called to inspect a vessel suspected of nefarious activity. He was so engrossed in the inkling that he didn’t detect his best friend creeping up behind him to smack the back of his head until he felt the sting of Mugsy’s hand.
“You checked out already, Hawk?” Mugsy teased with a deep chuckle. “You still have a full day ahead of you, my man! Semper Paratus!”
“Always ready,” Brewer repeated with far less enthusiasm.
Mugsy squared himself in front of Brewer, giving him a keen once over. They’d been inseparable since their second day of boot camp in Camp May, New Jersey. The Brooklyn native was a fast-talker, and helped Brewer out of a sticky situation that got them both quarter-decked—forced into strenuous exercises within the barracks. At times it was downright impossible to take his 5’3” friend seriously, because 90% of the time, Roberto “Mugsy” García was completely full of shit.
“What’s the matter wit you? Izzy got you shoppin’ for wedding shit again?”
Brewer nodded. “Yeah, and we picked out baby pink ties for our pussy groomsmen.”
“You wouldn’t dare!” Mugsy cried with a look of sheer panic.
“Just messin’ with you, my man.” With a barking laugh, Brewer smacked Mugsy back. Mugsy reeled on him, throwing Brewer in a headlock with the ease only a high school state champion wrestler could possess. He may’ve been short, but he was scrappy as hell, and had dominated as a heavyweight.
Brewer maneuvered out from Mugsy’s grip as Redding entered the locker room.
“Just gettin’ him warmed up for ya,” Mugsy replied.
Otis Welder—or “Redding” as the guys affectionately nicknamed him because of his love of blues music—was a tall, lanky blonde kid who’d ventured off the family farm in small-town Iowa. They’d only met him six months back when he was assigned to their base. His deep voice and boyish charm made him a hit with the ladies whenever they hit the town as a crew, which was fortunately something that didn’t seem to bother Isabella. Brewer wouldn’t have been able to handle it if she’d been jealous, because it meant she didn’t understand he wouldn’t dream of giving any other woman the time of day as long as he had her.
Mugsy lifted his chin and scowled. “What’re you doin’ here, Redding? Thought you were off this week.”
“Yeah I’m off,” Redding replied with a snort. “Off your mom. She says ‘hi’ by the way.”
“Wise guy,” Mugsy grumbled, looking ready to throw punches.
Redding started for his locker. “Heard you ladies got called out for an inspection. Thought I’d come along.”
Brewer exchanged a confused glance with Mugsy. “Since when do you do ride alongs?”
Mugsy licked his lips and all at once started fidgeting with his collar, eyes jumping around the room. “You sure that’s a good idea, Redding?”
“It’s Hawk’s last day.” Redding smacked Brewer’s shoulder. “Wouldn’t wanna miss it.”
“Wouldn’t wanna miss what?” Stinger asked as he joined them.
Brewer and Mugsy had taken Benjamin “Stinger” Springer under their wing when he first joined their team. The quiet kid from Virginia was an easy target two years prior…not so confident, and carrying around an extra forty pounds that he’d since lost once he started tagging along to the gym with Brewer and Mugsy. Within weeks of becoming buff, he’d met a girl he called “the love of his life,” and planned to marry her once they turned twenty-one. He still took endless amounts of shit because of his obsession with comic book heroes and other crap Brewer knew nothing about, but at least he owned it.