as we slowed down to pull close, the noise was almost deafening. Way louder than the clamor of voices that had been there when we’d raced to Morocco and back. The screams and shouts and cheers were practically rebounding in the air. It should have been a happy moment, but instead, my stomach was a knot of fear. I had to get away from the crowd, talk to Violet and Malone, and retrieve Jada. I couldn’t spend hours chatting with the media like we’d planned.
“We’ll say there’s a family emergency, and you’ll do interviews later,” Dax said grimly, reading my mind.
“Dax…I―”
“I don’t want to know, Dawson. Honestly. Whatever the two of you are involved in, the less I know, the better. Just keep her safe.”
Even though it was true, it put a wedge between us that had never been there before. The last thing I wanted to do was ruin our friendship―our partnership―and yet, I’d already put it all at risk by loading the cash into our yacht, by designing the compartments that would be installed in any yacht the Kyōdaina bought from us. Worse, I’d basically lied to him when he’d called me on it. I think the lie would be what hurt the most.
I should have brought him on board ages ago. In some ways, it would have been easier. But I was pretty sure he wouldn’t have agreed. He hated Jada’s family. So, I’d kept it a secret, thinking I wouldn’t lose him and everything I’d worked hard for. Now, I might lose it all anyway.
The mob at the pier was an ecstatic cacophony. Cameras were filming as we tied up and disembarked. We had microphones shoved in our faces, and we smiled and gave them a little show. I was the Dawson I appeared to the world after all my wins. Cocky, smiling, sure. While Dax waited for Demario to dock, I slipped away. I took Dax’s car he’d left at the pier and went to the hotel.
Once I’d checked in, I changed, donned a baseball cap, and headed back out. I left the lobby behind, wound through the streets, and stopped at a café before I called Malone’s number.
“Nolan’s at the house. He swept for bugs, gave her a secure phone, and is wiring her up,” Malone said in lieu of a greeting.
“Wait. Wiring her up?”
“We need eyes and ears when she goes in,” he said.
“That wasn’t part of the plan.”
“If you want us to know if she needs us to storm the castle, we need ears at a minimum. Anything we see that can give us a leg up is just a bonus.”
“Give me the number,” I said.
I hung up with him and dialed.
“Hello?” Violet’s voice trembled ever so slightly. She was nervous.
“Vi, it’s me.”
“If you’d told me a week ago I’d be helping the FBI, I would have told you that you were dreaming.” She hid the tremble with humor.
“Are you okay?”
“Yep. Nolan here happens to think the imaginary company I came up with for Jada and me is a sure thing. He says we should definitely do it, and then, once we’ve made a small name for ourselves, we should sell the entire company to Grâce Charmante instead of just the antimicrobial.”
I couldn’t help the smile that hit me. Vi, rambling about the things she loved most. Geeking out on me. But it was also her way of finding a calm in her storm. A storm I was now responsible for.
“Violet.” My throat clogged with emotions again just as they had on the boat. So many words I couldn’t say.
“We’re going to be fine. Jada and I both. We’re survivors.”
God, it was the truth. But neither one of them should have had to be. Both their childhoods had been fucked up. Once upon a time, I’d allowed myself to believe my childhood was miserable because I had an uncaring dad and a mom who believed in kids raising themselves.
It took Truck bringing me to New London and seeing, firsthand, Jersey and Violet’s messed-up life for me to realize the truth. I had Truck, who loved me more than any other person did. I had grandparents who made sure Mom didn’t go so far off the rails that we didn’t have a home or food on the table. I had a dad who’d given me all the material things the average American kid wanted, even if he couldn’t give me the things I’d really yearned for. Love. Respect.