Page 2 of Deadly Sins

Sure, he was—the world’s most exclusive fraternity. Even when these guys left the service, they only hired their own. “What did he say about bail? I’ll find a way to raise money.”

“We won’t know until the arraignment, but he thinks the judge will probably make an example of me. No bail.”

“But you’re a SEAL.”

“Exactly. No playing favorites.”

From his posture, the edge in his voice, I knew I was treading on his patience. I needed to garner any information I could before he cut me off. “What’s the last thing you remember? The girl, did she pass out?”

His nostrils flared, and he bared his teeth. “Knock it off, Mia.”

Whoa. He never raised his voice to me. There was no use arguing with him. Joaquín was a stubborn Taurus—I’d never win. I bit my lip and tried another approach. “You can’t tell me anything about that night? Who was the dead girl? Were you dating her?”

“No. I’d never met her before.” Joaquín shrugged. He wasn’t really a relationship guy. A complete player, he claimed no one could ever be faithful to a SEAL, which was bullshit. I’d never even looked at another man when I was with Grant. I still hadn’t, even though we’d been broken up for what felt like forever.

“Who invited her?”

His tone became more agitated. “One of the Team guys invited a bunch of strippers.”

Yeah, I’ll bet.Strippers and SEALs went together like rum and cola. At least Joaquín wasn’t a cheater. I couldn’t count the number of times wasted SEALs had called Grant to be picked up from Panthers, the local sleazy strip club. Grant would drag me along, and then his buddies would beg him to act as an alibi to give to their wives.

We used to fight about him covering for the philanderers all the time. I had to make small talk with their wives at Team barbecues, knowing that their husbands had had their dicks sucked by strippers the night before. Grant always told me to stay out of it—it was their marriages and not our place to get involved. I argued that we were involved because covering for them made Grant an accessory to their infidelities.

At least Grant never went to the strip clubs; he swore it wasn’t his thing.

I tried to stop myself, but I had to know. “Which guy asked the strippers to the party? Mitch?”

He let out a growl. “One more word, and I’ll drop this phone and walk back to my cell.”

My gaze darted around the room. I was grateful that this crime had been committed off the naval base, so at least he wasn’t stuck in the brig. Under a civilian justice system, I could find him the best lawyers. I’d do whatever it took. “I’ll get you out of here. I’ll find out the truth.”

He laughed, and although it was nice to see him smile, I knew he didn’t have a shred of faith that I could help him. “How are you going to do that, Mia? You’re a theater student. We’re talking about a bunch of Team guys.”

I preferred the term “highly trained actor,” but I wasn’t about to correct him. Plus, who was he trying to protect anyway? Did he suspect one of his Teammates? Did he know who killed the girl? “I know. I’m just trying to help.”

But my mind started racing. Why not me? Joaquín was my brother—the same blood ran through our veins, the same dedication, the same stubbornness. Just because I lacked testosterone didn’t mean I was any less capable than he was.

He studied me. “I know that look. Don’t get involved, Mia. That’s a fucking order. I didn’t drug or kill Tiffany, which means someone else did. I don’t have a clue who, and I can’t protect you from here.”

I cringed when I noticed that his hands were shaking. This was real, not some fucked-up nightmare. “I can protect myself.”

He’d always protected me, been my savior. It would kill him if he knew what had happened to me two years ago. But it wasn’t his fault. He and Grant had both been deployed, and there was nothing either of them could’ve done to save me that night. Telling them the truth would accomplish nothing.

“No, I need you to trust me on this.” His voice firmed. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.” He was proud, pigheaded, and I knew he didn’t want me to see him defenseless. Just like Grant. These macho SEALs never allowed themselves to be truly vulnerable, not to their families, and most certainly not to their women. Though I completely understood—I was too proud to admit my own weaknesses.

He focused on me. “Mia, I can’t take care of you anymore. This is important. I need you to listen to me. You have to be strong for me. Remember that place in Marin we used to hike to?”

How could I forget? On the top of Mt. Tamalpais, on a ridge overlooking the fog, was a group of rocks. Joaquín and I used to go up there and spend hours playing make-believe.

“Of course, I do. Why?”

“If you need to feel my presence, go there.”

What on earth was Joaquín talking about? He hated what he called my “New Age bullshit” about vortexes and spirit guides. But my spirituality guided everything I did. I didn’t care if he didn’t understand it. “I won’t need to. I’m going to take a leave of absence from school, move down here, and visit you every week until you’re free.”

“Don’t you dare. You only have one semester left. Don’t ruin your life, too. Listen to me. I don’t want you to visit me again. Promise me you won’t come back to San Diego.”

I bit my nails, and my stomach clenched. He was the only person I had in my life since I’d ended things with Grant. Without Joaquín, I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t exist. He would never ask me to abandon him.