My lips popped open. "He meaning Les Tenney?" I asked.

Stella nodded.

My throat was suddenly dry. "Who did he choke?"

"West."

The word came out so matter-of-factly—as if I should have known the answer. And even though I did, it didn't stop surprise from flitting through me.

Leona reached out and covered Stella's hand with hers. "It all happened at Easton's wedding."

The popcorn-tossing, jacket-sharing, musical-loving boy who wanted me to be his sister had been choked by his dad? At a wedding?

It was almost too much to believe. Except, I knew nothing was beyond Les.

Stella gave her friend a sad, heartbreaking look. "It was the most horrible night of my life. I thought he was going to kill him." Tears sparkled in her eyes. My hand floated to my mouth. "I'll never forget finding West like that. With his dad's hands around his throat. His face was purple and he was trying not to..."

Her voice broke off, and she looked quickly away.

Even though I'd left the wedding reception early that night, I knew West must have kept this abuse from South.

"He punched him, too, didn't he?" Leona said in a low voice.

What else did West need to endure from this man?

"I mean, I didn't see it happen—West getting punched," Stella clarified. "But he had a split lip and was bleeding when I found him."

I thought I should ask the girls another question, maybe keep them talking, but luckily Leona had more to say.

"I think he's capable of more than just punching kids and cheating on his wife," Leona added. "He's manipulative and evil."

I let my gaze trail the busy lawn. Happy couples and drinks and expensive suits. Seafood and champagne.
Another tray of oysters was set on the raw bar.

"Twenty-four more!" called an older man wearing a black apron who smiled at Stella.

Stella drifted over and grabbed the tray. "Thanks, Levi!" she said before making her way back to us. "We should get to work before Mrs. Kleeson sees us slacking."

I needed to get back inside and see who Admiral Tenney was meeting with. Not wander around the yard serving drinks. Then, the perfect idea bubbled in my mind.

"Would it be okay if I ran to the bathroom?"

Leona tossed her shiny black hair again. She had the kind of quick wit and magnetic personality that I envied.

"If you wanna check your phone, there's a good place to hide over there," Leona suggested, gesturing to a trellis covered in snaking ivy with a sly smile.

"Thanks, but I really need to pee, and I'm sure the Kleeson wouldn't like it if I just squatted in front of the guests."

Stella and Leona shared another laugh. "Okay, see you later."

The girls strolled off, side by side, laughing as they offered oysters and drinks to guests. I watched them for a moment longer than I should've. Wanting that kind of friendship in my life more than anything. The inside jokes and the real talk and the pure joy that came with having a sister.

I swallowed down my sadness and set my drink tray on a table before easing my way inside the restaurant.

The sound of soft music and the murmur of polite conversation added to the ambiance of wood-paneled walls and ornate crystal. I stayed close to the wall as I wove my way between tables.

I wiped sweaty hands on my skirt before adjusting my glasses, ignoring a customer who tried to get my attention and continuing around a corner closer to the bar area.

My pulse was thudding so loud I suspected Connor could hear the heavy beat of my heart thumping against the microphone.

Then I found him. Seated at a table against a window. All the way in the back.

Les Tenney.

I quickly hid around a corner, feeling completely exposed. He was here, and I had no fucking clue what I was doing.

How was I going to make this work? Why did I think I could do this? Admiral Tenney was seated facing forward, his guest with their back turned.

I needed to get closer.

I drew in a sharp breath and reminded myself I was very good at being fake. I could be a waitress. I could be invisible. I could act completely natural.

When I turned back towards the section where Admiral Tenney was sitting, I made my way carefully to the bar. As I walked, I let my gaze shift to his small table.

The closer I came, I realized I recognized then man seated across from him. I swore my beating heart tripped over itself.

Jack Dougherty. In all his sharp-suited, wide-shouldered glory. Sipping wine and eating crab cakes.

What the actual fuck?

I made my way up to the bar and eased my way around to the side bar, where servers picked up drink orders. Tonight the bar was packed, and the tuxedoed bartender was busily pouring drinks and talking to guests.

Good. That gave me time.

I kept my back to Jack and Les, trying to listen to their conversation as best I could over the crowd chatter. 

"Let's cut to the chase," Les said in a forced calm. "I don't have all night."

There was a pause. I was tapping my finger against the bar, eyes glazed over, when two older men drinking martinis tried to chat me up about the weather. I gave them a polite smile and tried to ignore their advances, but I'd missed a snippet of conversation.

Jack was talking now. "I'm curious what you think is going to happen when all your pearls are discovered?

"They won't be."

There was another pause, and I realized I was barely breathing. When all your pearls are discovered?

Jack—or whoever he was—knew just what to ask the admiral.

"You seem mighty confident about that," the fake detective replied.

Two martinis chose this moment to strike up another round of conversation with the polite waitress still waiting for the bartender. I gritted my teeth when they asked how long I'd been working at the restaurant.

"You seem too pretty to be waiting tables. You look like a real classy gal."

Disgusting and chauvinistic. I tried to ignore them again by calling for the bartender. He finally made his way over, and I asked him for a fresh bottle of gin for the outside bar.

While he dug in the cupboard for a bottle, I tuned back in on the admiral's conversation.

"My family runs this town," Les was saying in hushed but angry tones. "Top to bottom. East to west. From the bay to the orchards and everything in between. I own the whisper network."

"Your family?" Jack asked in his smooth voice. "You mean, the real Tenney's."

"That's right."

What the hell did that mean—the real Tenney's?

"But none of your boys know what's going on, do they?"

"No." There was a pause, and I shifted my body so that I was turned towards their table, trying to listen to every word. "South will come around. When he sees the money and what I will do for him. That's how my father convinced me."

The bartender handed me the bottle of gin with a lazy glance at my tits before turning back to his guests. This place made me feel dirty all over. The bar and the comments and everything.

Bottle in hand, I lingered.

"What about me?" Jack was asking.

"What about you?"

His reply was sharp and angry, but Les seemed to regain control of his temper. I turned towards them, focusing my attention on the Tanqueray label while listening to their conversation, but I couldn't help myself. My eyes drifted up to the table.

"You're not going to say anything. Not if you want to stay—"

Les Tenney's hazel eyes—eyes that were the exact same color and shape as his son's—stared into mine. And in an instant, I saw the same flash of recognition that had crossed his son's face.

I was the girl under the bleachers. I was the girl dating his son.

A cruel smile curled up one side of Admiral Tenney's face, and a wave of fear cascaded over me. I went cold all over, and anxiety clawed at my throat.

I didn't go back to the lawn. I didn't text Connor or talk into the microphone.

I backed up two paces, holding this evil man's gaze, then I was running through the restaurant. Still holding the fifth of gin. Breathing hard into the microphone as I burst through the front doors and tore off towards the parking lot.

In my panic, I tripped halfway down the hill, my high heel catching on uneven pavement in the dark, and I stumbled forward, landing on my hands and knees and crying out in pain.

The bottle of gin shattered over rough pavement, sending ribbons of glass and expensive liquor everywhere. The burning scent of gin as sharp as my cuts.

"Camilla!"

Connor was sprinting up the drive until he reached me, bending low and sliding an arm around my middle. He helped me to my feet, holding me steady until I got my bearing.

"Are you okay?"

I realized I was bleeding and shaking when I finally pushed tangled hair out of my face. Tears in my eyes. "Not really."

"Did he see you?" Connor asked, breathing hard.

"I don't think so," I said in a shaky voice, not meeting Connor's eye.

"You don't think so?"

"No, he didn't see me," I lied.

"Camilla—"

"Okay, maybe he did."

"Shit," Connor cursed, his hands sliding around my back, holding me against his chest. His heart pounding against mine. "I shouldn't have let you do this. I'm sorry."

I pulled back, putting distance between us. Let me?

"What do you mean let me do this?"

Connor ran his hands through pale blonde hair in frustration. "This was a bad idea. You're hurt. And he saw you."

"Listen," I explained, "now we know Jack is either working for Admiral Tenney, or he was interviewing him. And we have an eyewitness on tape who saw Les assault his son. This was huge for the case. That's why we're here."

Connor took my scraped palm on his hand. Stinging pain lanced over the fresh wound. "This is deep, Camilla. I should take you home. Or to the hospital. Do you want me to take you to the hospital?"

I shook my head, suddenly angry and not sure why. Connor picked up my shoes, then tried to put his arm back around me but I shrugged him off.

"I can walk on my own. I'm fine."

We walked in silence back to his car. Me sucking in sharp breaths and holding back tears. Connor staring at his feet.

I didn't know what I was more upset about—Les Tenney seeing me or letting Connor get this close. If South had lied to me about something like this, I'd have been pissed.

We'd agreed to be honest with each other, and I didn't know what the hell I was doing anymore. I certainly wasn't being honest.

Connor opened the car door for me, and I slid inside. Clutching my purse to my chest and trying to ignore the gash on my knee. "Can you take me to South's apartment? It's off Spring Street."

Connor started the car, unspeaking, as he navigated down winding roads away from Castle Hill Inn. Tree lined streets with sprawling mansions transformed into busy downtown thoroughfares, and I stared out the window, thinking about the events of the evening.

Connor pulled to a stop outside South's apartment, and I gingerly pulled out the key he'd given me earlier today.

"Camilla," Connor said as I opened the car door.

"Yes?"

Connor looked like he wanted to say something but didn't quite know how to form the words. I waited, wondering what was on his mind after a night like this.

"Make sure you wash that cut out wicked good. Okay?"

A knot of tension in my chest relaxed. I eased out of Connor's car, once again forcing myself not to look back at him as I walked up the path and unlocked South's front door.

A/N

So many revelations in this chapter!

Just who is Jack Dougherty? And what is the admiral up to?

PS I added Khalid's Therapy to this chapter because for whatever reason I'm stuck listening to American Teen on repeat. Maybe I know why...👀

xx
AJ