My stomach dropped down to my knees as I watched my boyfriend get into the silver Mercedes and reverse out the driveway.

Headlight beams flicked on, and the car disappeared down Ocean Avenue. A quiet settled over the dark road, save for the murmur of distant music and the roar of the waves.

He was gone.

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think.

South didn't know what I knew. He didn't understand his dad wanted to use him, that his dad would try and bring him into the fold—whatever that meant.

I knew this wasn't going to be a quick drive around the block. This was going to end one of two ways, with South agreeing to help his dad because he was coerced, or denying to help and getting hurt...or worse.

Don't focus on the worse case scenario.

This was all my fault. I should have run to him. I should have told him what I knew.

I had been too scared of upsetting him, not realizing the time for regrets and being scared had long passed.

We loved each other, and loving someone meant you didn't leave them when they needed you the most. South might believe he was trying to protect me, but I knew in my heart I could be strong. I wasn't some pussy ass bitch.

A warm hand landed on my back, and I startled. "Sorry to scare you, Miss Isley," Tom remarked, "but I'd be more than happy to have you stay here under the protection of my staff." His kind green eyes took up the look of a concerned father. "Until Les Tenney is brought low, please don't underestimate him."

Tears blurred my vision before I blinked them away. Tom might understand how evil the admiral was, and he might even want him behind bars, but there was something he didn't get.

"Mr. Fredericksen," I choked out, my voice imploring. "He's going to hurt South. This is going to be Easton's wedding all over again. Except no one will be there to save him."

Tom studied me. "You're sure?" he asked. "Les is going to do something rash tonight?"

I nodded. "Absolutely."

Mr. Fredericksen flicked his gaze back towards the massive pavilion.

"Turner," Tom said abruptly.

"Yes, sir."

The two men shared a knowing look, one that said more than I'd ever be able to decipher.

"Keep Stella and Spencer occupied. Let them present the check to the society. Get the band playing. Tell Chantal we're a go."

Mr. Turner tapped two security guards on the shoulder, and the three men silently walked off into the warm night, their shadows lengthening against the paver stones.

I tried to puzzle out his cryptic response. We're a go?

A go for what?

Mr. Fredericksen pulled out his phone and typed out a quick message before his attention shifted back to me.

"Camilla, my best advice is to stay out of this. Trust that there are forces working to bring down Les Tenney, and that confronting him isn't your responsibility."

My pulse was thundering in my ears and throbbing under my glove.

"I'd be honored if you stayed with us tonight, Miss Isley. Just, please don't bring this business to my children." Tom drew in a deep breath, studying me over the top of rimless glasses. I nodded, and he smiled. "Rest assured all will be handled by the morning."

"I appreciate the offer, I really do, but I can't stay."

I wasn't going to blab about Les' appearance to Stella and Spencer, but I also wasn't going to sit on my hands and wait for some mysterious intervention. I might not be a private detective or a cop, but I wasn't going to rely on others to take care of things.

I'd already lost my sister. I wasn't losing South too.

"I understand needing to feel involved. I do. But, please excuse me. I need to speak with a few distinguished guests."

Two older men were cutting a path across the lawn I recognized from my night undercover at Castle Hill Inn. Confident these were the very same men drinking martinis and trying to hit on me at the bar.

One was wearing a bowler hat and thick glasses—and looked like he was trying to impersonate a sweaty Winston Churchill. The other looked like a penguin. Short and stubby with a gold pocket watch chain dangling across his wide belly.

They thought I'd looked too classy to be a waitress. I rolled my eyes. I wondered if they knew Spencer's girlfriend was a waitress at the very same place.

It didn't matter, I told myself. I needed to get going. The longer I stood here, the further away South was.

I walked towards the pavilion, shoes damp with dew and my hand still throbbing, needing to find Connor and Lianna. Even though the tent was crowded, I told myself it shouldn't be hard to spot the two of them, considering Lianna looked like a walking disco ball.

Soft piano music had been traded for a live cover band, and the vibe under the tent had shifted—neon lights and dancing. I caught a glimpse of Stella and Spencer dancing beside Leona and a blonde-haired guy under the swirling lights.

I would've given anything to be dancing with South right now. Carefree and happy. 

Someone knocked into my shoulder, and a quick, "Sorry!" came out before, "Oh, it's you! Camilla, hey! I need to speak with you."

Jack Dougherty was staring down at me. His crisp white tux stark against smooth toffee colored skin. A red rose pinned to his lapel. I was angry with him for so many reasons, but I envied the way he always seemed to know what to say.

It doesn't matter, Camilla. He lied to you.

I narrowed my eyes at the fake detective and marched off in the opposite direction, searching for Connor. I needed his help finding South, and quick.

"Wait up!" Jack shouted.

I didn't slow down. "Connor!" I shouted out into the crowd. 2000's tracks were being played by the cover band, and everyone was singing along. "Connor!"

Jack was at my side once again. "I interviewed the landscaper—the one who got the bad check. Sorry, I couldn't let you come with, but my employer didn't want me to sharing information. He wanted the case tightened up."

I sneered at him. "I'm sure he did. Is that why you were getting all cozy with Admiral Tenney at Castle Hill? Is that who you're really working for?" I stopped, feeling hurt and misled. Wondering why Jack had approached me in the first place. The job offer must have been some kind of joke. "Because I googled your name. You're not the real Jack Dougherty. Jack Dougherty is an old white guy."

Jack covered full lips with a hand that could palm a basketball and let out a stuttering laugh. "Oh shit. You thought? Damn, okay. Well, first of all, Jack Dougherty Senior is my dad, and yes, he's an old white guy."

I stared blankly back at the man. He looped his arm through mine and guided me off to the side of the tent.

"I need to get out of here. You don't understand," I told Jack. "I'm looking for my friends so we can leave."

The detective propped an elbow on a cocktail table and leaned in close.

"Just give me two minutes to explain. If you don't like what I have to say, you never have to see me again. I will drop you off at home or wherever you want to go. Deal?"

I searched the dance floor once again, but still couldn't find Connor or Lianna in the crowd. If they left, I'd have no ride. So, I rolled my eyes and reluctantly agreed to Jack's terms.

"First, my name is Jack Dougherty Junior. I was adopted at birth and given the name by my adoptive parents. Second, my dad--the old white guy--happens to be a very well-known Private Detective. I followed in his footsteps. Sometimes, he contracts me to help him with bigger cases, like this one."

I wanted to believe he was telling the truth.

"Tell me who your employer is. Who hired you?"

Jack leaned in a little closer, dropping his voice. "Tom Fredericksen. My dad and his partner are talking with him right now."

Those two were...detectives? They were doing a horrible job of blending in. But, Tom had called them his distinguished guests, and I couldn't imagine he would bring around people who could hurt Stella or Spencer.

Still...

"That doesn't explain why you were talking to Admiral Tenney like you were best friends."

Jack's lips quirked into a comical pucker. His head canted to one side. His demeanor made me want to smile despite the circumstances.

"Granted, I don't hang out at Yacht Clubs like you do, but do people often chat up their best friends like that?"

He must not spend much time at the Yacht Club. Lianna and I had been friends, and that hadn't stopped her from verbally attacking me in a bathroom.

"Maybe not," I admitted. "But that whole conversation was suspicious."

He wagged a finger at me. "You didn't hear the whole conversation. Which is exactly why my dad kept trying to distract you."

I realized I had nothing to say to that. If true, Jack and his father were working on a whole other level than Connor and I. Jack glanced around, seeming to verify we were alone before continuing.

"We were able to convince Les that I was a new Connecticut pharma billionaire who wanted to buy stake in his Whisper Network."

I smashed my brows together. "His whisper network?"

"It's a blackmailing ring he runs," Jack said offhandedly. But suddenly, things started to make sense. "Anyways, I told him I'd heard of South from a press release and wanted to know if he was involved in the business. Les informed me his boys didn't know about the business—which is a lie."

"South doesn't."

Jack gave me a pointed look. "But Easton does."

I didn't want it to be true. I didn't want to believe that Easton knew more about blackmail and the things his father did. Because if that was the case, it lent more credibility to my theory that Lydie had learned something suspicious from Easton that she couldn't keep quiet.

And was murdered for it.

"So what happened?" I asked. "Did he let you buy stake?"

Jack shook his head. "Someone spooked him. Les shut down negotiations later that night."

I worried my bottom lip. I was missing something—something important.

"I need a favor, Jack. Can I trust you?"

"That depends," the detective said playfully.

"Les just picked up South from the Fredericksen's driveway. I'm nervous he's taking South somewhere to convince him—"

"To join the Network," Jack finished my thought. I nodded. "Well, fuck."

"Take me with you. I want to help."

Jack wavered. Casting a look back towards the lawn and pulling out his cell phone. "I don't know. I was told to keep you out of this."

"What happened to being a natural at detective work? What happened to offering me a job? If you meant what you said, take me with you."

I couldn't tell which way he was leaning. He was studying me with keen eyes while music and lights pulsed.

"Please."

Jack looked up at me through thick black eyelashes. Dark eyes swimming with hesitance. "My dad is going to literally murder me. But, okay."

A/N

Okay, here we go!

Jack isn't the bad guy?

Only three more chapters left (I think 😬). There will be an epilogue.