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Chapter Fourteen

Nate

It was strange, staring at faces lit by the fire’s glow, wondering if Perry and I were surrounded by murderers. It was even stranger not being terrified by that idea. I’d moved my handgun to our cabin, safely tucked away in its lockbox. My shotgun remained in my vehicle.

Laughter lit up the evening as Maverick’s employees roasted marshmallows, little bits of fluffy white catching fire and turning into burning cinders that often met their untimely end within the low-burning coals.

“Perfect,” Delia murmured as she pulled her immaculately toasted marshmallow from the fire, neatly placing it on top of a chocolate-covered graham cracker and sandwiching the two with another cracker. She leaned over and bit into the gooey goodness, humming with approval.

She’d eaten half her s’more before Delia leaned back and said, “Had I known they were this good, I would have installed a firepit in my yard years ago.”

Perry sat between the two of us and asked, “You’ve never had s’mores before?” He shot me a quizzical glance, like he couldn’t believe anyone who’d grown up in the US hadn’t had smores as a kid.

Delia stared at her remaining snack and answered, “I fear I missed out on that opportunity somewhere along the line.” Her smile turned bitter. “I suppose not all of us have the idyllic childhood portrayed on television.”

“Oh, I…” Perry’s voice trailed into the night, his distress obvious. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think. I—”

“Perry, darling, it’s fine,” Delia reassured him. “You’ve nothing to apologize for. I very much like the fact that you never thought such a thing possible. It reassures me that there’s truth to the fantasy. Besides, I have no regrets. My past has led me to be the person I am today, and I am very comfortable in my skin.”

I sucked in a heated breath but remained silent. I’d often wondered what Delia Carpenter’s childhood was like, what past experiences led her to the life she currently lived and seemed to relish. I’d gone so far as to do a background check on her. Nat and I’d done preliminary background checks on all Maverick employees after Gregory Granger’s death. She’d been squeaky clean. Too clean. A deeper dive hadn’t gotten me any further. Delia Carpenter’s official past was a waste of digital space. I’d bet my detective’s badge that little to none of it was accurate.

Cheeks flushed either from embarrassment or the heat of the bonfire, Perry threaded a marshmallow onto his roasting stick and forced it toward the fire. The fire was banked low enough that Perry had been able to take off his sunglasses, the glow of the flame no longer painful to his eyes.

I pushed my marshmallow-laden stick toward Perry’s and bumped them together. Perry made an exasperated sound, but his soft laughter lightened the mood. That mood quickly took a nosedive when Gabe returned. Perry and I saw him at the same time, our eyes locked on the smaller man as he made his way toward Malcom.

Perry started to rise, but Delia placed her hand on his forearm and said, “Give them a minute. Gabe or Malcom will fill us in if they’ve learned anything pertinent.”

I wasn’t so certain, but I didn’t force the issue. If one of them didn’t volunteer what they’d found, I knew whose cabin I’d be visiting later tonight.

Despite Delia’s words, Perry couldn’t take his eyes off Gabe, and soon, his marshmallow met a fiery demise. Perry didn’t even notice.

Pulling mine out before it followed Perry’s into the abyss, I handed him half my s’more. “Eat up,” I said. Perry gave me a blank look before realizing what had happened to his marshmallow.

“Oh! Shit.”

Delia chuckled. “Don’t worry. You’re hardly the first. I suspect there are more well-done marshmallows lying in those embers than there are in bellies.”

“Probably,” Perry agreed before taking a bite of his s’more and groaning his appreciation. “Thanks, Nate. You’re an excellent fiancé,” Perry teased lightly.

“Only the finest for you,” I jested back.

“Amen,” Delia agreed, a sharp edge to that singular word.

By the time Perry finished his s’more, Gabe and Malcom’s conversation was finished, and Gabe was on his way to our little trio. Perry stiffened beside me. Gabe’s generally congenial features were strung tight and his mouth, which was typically smiling, was downturned.

I’d give Gabe this: he tried for lighthearted when he asked, “Is there room for one more in your cozy group?”

Delia scooted slightly and answered, “For you, always.”

Gabe clutched the fabric over his heart, and this time, his smile appeared genuine. “Such praise.”

Delia rolled her eyes and scoffed. Her grin told me she didn’t hate the ass-kissing. “Sit down, you silly fool.”

I’d yet to figure out if the two of them were flirting or not. I’d thought Gayle and Delia might have something beyond friendship going on, but I wasn’t certain. Perry wasn’t either. Neither of us was sure of Gayle or Delia’s orientation. Perry wasn’t certain Gayle knew for sure herself.

I simply wanted Gayle to be happy, no matter what form of significant other that entailed or if it didn’t entail someone else at all. Plenty of people were happy on their own. I tried not to judge. Sometimes, I had to apologize for my ignorance, but my mistakes never came from a malicious place.

While I’d been fighting through a slew of mental musings regarding sexual orientation, Gabe sat down and popped a marshmallow in his mouth. He snagged a chunk of chocolate next and quickly stuffed that in.

Elbows on my knees, I leaned over and turned slightly so I could get a better angle on Gabe. “It tastes better when you smoosh them all together.”

Gabe shook his head. “They can mingle in my belly, but not before, thank you very much.”

Perry raised his eyebrows and asked, “Are you like that with all your food?”

Gabe shrugged. “Most of it.” He made air motions with his hands as if he were separating food on a plate. “I typically eat one thing at a time, finish it, then move on to the next. I don’t like them mixing all together.” Gabe made a stirring motion with his finger.

“Oh,” Perry said as if he had no idea what else to say. I didn’t have anything to add and changed the topic to one I knew Perry was itching to hear about. Truth be told, so was I.

“What did you find out at the shelter?” I asked without any sort of lead-in. This was a shitty topic and best asked in a rip-the-band-aid-off kind of way.

Gabe stopped chewing for a moment before starting again and swallowing heavily. “I’m afraid nothing good.” He let loose a heavy sigh, and his shoulders slumped. “The cat was adopted two days ago. The woman I spoke with wasn’t there at the time of the adoption but said she remembered the employee who was there saying the man who wanted to adopt the cat came in specifically looking for a black cat. They were happy to hear it because, apparently adult black cats aren’t always as adoptable. It took a little coaxing, but after I explained who I was and what happened with the cat, she agreed to look up the adoptee information.” Gabe sadly chuckled. “Let me tell you, the woman was pissed.”

“Rightly so,” Delia agreed.

“Yeah, not arguing that point. Anyway, it’s like I think all of us were afraid of. Willie didn’t even use a fake name when he signed the papers. He paid the adoption fee in cash.”

Perry made a sound somewhere between a choke and a sob. I placed my palm on his back, rubbing circles that were meant to be soothing, but I doubted Perry even registered.

“Oh my God. He…” Perry placed his head in his hands. “He did it on purpose. Willie really k-killed…”

I started to say something—what, I wasn’t sure. When I looked toward Gabe, I caught Delia’s eyes. I’m not sure if it was the glowing embers or the true furious rage lighting her eyes from within. That gaze spoke of violence—and a painful death. Delia Carpenter was well and truly livid, and it was a gloriously frightening experience.

Standing, Delia said, “Excuse me” and walked away. Her motions were purposeful, and her stride was intimidating. A hush fell around the firepit, and when I chanced a look at Maverick’s employees, each and every one had their eyes locked on Delia’s retreating figure. I don’t think I imagined the fear and awe shimmering in those watchful gazes.

Gabe leaned back, and his hand rested below mine on Perry’s back. “I’m sorry, Perry. Really, I am. I suppose we can add animal cruelty to Willie’s list of crimes, but I don’t think the courts will rate that higher than human homicide. Plus, I doubt there’d be a way to prove he did the deed.” Gabe patted Perry’s back before withdrawing his hand. Elbows on knees, he stared into the dwindling fire. I could only see his profile, but his gaze was fixed ahead, and his jaw ticked.

“People say Karma’s a bitch for a reason, Perry. Willie Slater will get his due. I guaran-fucking-tee it.” Gabe’s tight lips slowly slid into a twisted grin. “He’s pissing all the wrong people off, and it’s going to get him into trouble.”

I pulled Perry into my side, wrapping my arm around him. I couldn’t tell if he was crying or not. The silence coming from his bent head worried me more than sobs.

“Perry?” I leaned in close, barely whispering his name into his ear. “Please talk to me.”

“What should I say?” Perry asked, his tone forlorn. “Gabe’s right. Technically, it’s not the worst Willie has done. Gabriella Sanchez is dead because of me, and now—”

“Gabriella Sanchez is not dead because of you.” I hastened to correct him. “Willie murdered her for his own reasons. He was just a sick, manipulative fuck when he placed the body where you’d find it.”

Gabe remained quietly vigilant, listening intently.

“Maybe,” Perry said half-heartedly.

“There’s no maybe about it. Nat and investigated, and Marjorie Alcott is currently out on a shit-ton of bail awaiting trial for hiring Willie to do her dirty work.”

“I don’t even know what I did to make me one of Willie’s targets.” Perry sounded so lost.

“You survived,” Gabe answered.

Perry huffed. “That’s it? That hardly seems a reason. It’s not like I didn’t come away with lasting damage. Willie fucked up my life well and good the first go-around.”

The photos Willie sent to Perry earlier this year were evidence enough that he’d been the one in that alley, the one that had killed Vincent Fagan and shot and beaten Perry to within an inch of his heroic life. Perry might not understand the farther-reaching implications or Maverick Insurance’s involvement, but he knew Willie was the devil darkening the doorways of his absent memories.

I picked up Gabe’s thread and ran with it. “He left you with scars and injuries, but Willie didn’t break your spirit. Trust me, Perry. Not everyone’s able to pick up the shattered pieces of their life, do a complete one-eighty, and come out the other side happy. Call it what you will; the fact is you didn’t lie down and die. You fought like hell to physically and mentally recover. You’ve got a life beyond what happened that night.”

“And you met a handsome detective along the way.” Gabe threw a wink in my direction.

“No offense, Nate, but I would have liked meeting you under different circumstances.”

“No offense taken.” I leaned in and kissed Perry’s temple, pushing his hair back and running my fingers along his scar. Perry didn’t remember our first meeting. It was a blessing he didn’t. Many nightmarish nights, I wished I could forget it. No amount of time would erase the image of him lying in that dark alley, blood surrounding his knee and head, his sequined Pride T-shirt catching the flashing lights of the emergency vehicles.

That memory was followed up by Perry’s fragile body lying comatose in a hospital bed, bandages wrapped around his head, IVs in both arms, beeping machines, and the constant hum of a ventilator. I hadn’t really known Perry at the time—I wouldn’t know him for another three years—but I’d been captivated. Some might call it an unhealthy obsession. I didn’t know if they were right or not. All I knew was that I wouldn’t go back in time and change my actions.

Digging through a nearly empty box of graham crackers, Gabe pulled out a few broken crumbs and munched away. We were a silent, contemplative group. Others slowly drifted away, going back to their cabins. Perry’s head leaned heavily on my shoulder. He wasn’t asleep. I didn’t think either one of us would sleep well tonight.

When I woke in the morning, I wish that had been true. Maybe I would have heard Willie’s approach.