Page 7 of Deadly Sins

“Look, honey, I wish I could help, but Joe, Pat, Vic, and I left before the strippers arrived. I’m sure you’re trying to help Joaquín, but no one is going to talk to you about that night.” He glanced at Pat and Vic. “We take each other’s secrets to our grave.”

Kyle wasn’t kidding. Pat was married to Annie Hamilton, a famous missing American who had vanished on spring break in the Caribbean. Initially, the public was fed a story that she’d just run away, become a missionary, had a kid, then decided to return to the States. I never bought that tall tale for a second. I’d interrogated Joaquín about what he knew, but he just played dumb, until a recent news story broke. Apparently, Annie and another missing American girl, Nicole, had both been kidnapped and forced into sex slavery. A Marine who recognized Nicole recently discovered her in Venezuela. She had amnesia and didn’t know who she was or what had happened to her. And a former SEAL named Dave supposedly saved Annie, though I think Pat was involved in her rescue.

As much as I had a window into these SEALs’ worlds, as both a girlfriend and a sister, I knew that I wasn’t privy to their world of secrets.

I adored Pat, though; he was such an amazing guy. He adopted Annie’s son, and Annie was now expecting his child. My own womb ached—had I stayed with Grant, I was sure we’d be married, and we’d probably have started a family by now. But instead of celebrating a new life with my soul mate, I was trying to salvage my brother’s future.

I bit my lower lip and threw back my drink. I didn’t have a plan. I didn’t have a strategy. I didn’t have a clue what I was doing.

Here goes nothing.I pushed myself off the seat and sat at an empty seat between Paul and Mitch, to at least try to see if I could get them to admit some details about the night of the party.

Paul resembled a young Tom Cruise—brown hair, blue eyes, dimples. He had even more arrogance than the rest of the men. As one of only a handful of second-generation SEALs, he’d been bred for this life. “Mia, I’m sorry about Joaquín, but the brass has forbidden us to talk about that night.”

“I know. Grant told me.”

Grant, who was sitting on the other side of Mitch, didn’t even look at me. “Why are you here exactly?” he demanded, his voice cold. “You should leave. You’re not welcome.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t own the bar now, do you? Kyle doesn’t seem to have a problem with me being here. It’s a free country.” Grant’s short-sleeved blue T-shirt teased me with glimpses of his tattoos. I gulped when I noticed he’d covered up my name with some sort of vine. At least I hadn’t tattooed his name on my ass, though I’d strongly considered it. My lack of ink didn’t matter; Grant’s name was permanently embedded in my heart.

He turned toward me, his green eyes digging deep into my soul. “What do you want from us? We aren’t going to talk about that night, none of us are. We’ve all given statements to the police and to our commands. When this goes to trial, we’ll be forced to testify, and it will ruin our careers.”

He stood up and came over to me, placing his hand on my thigh. An electric shock pulsed up my leg. I was addicted to his touch, longed for him, dreamt of him at night.

“Why don’t you just go back to your ‘I hate the United States military’ city and leave us the fuck alone?”

How could he be such an asshole to me? He knew how much I loved Joaquín—our love for my brother was probably one of the only things we still shared. I turned to Mitch, my eyes pleading for some mercy.

Mitch’s long dark hair skimmed his shoulders; his full sleeves of tattoos decorated huge arms. He put his strong hand on my back and gave me an icy stare. “Sorry, Mia. I was passed out and woke up with some bitch sitting on my face. I don’t remember anything.”

“Dammit, Mitch. Why do you have to be so disgusting?” I hopped up from my chair. Grant was right; this was pointless.

But the stakes were too high to just give up. I couldn’t imagine my brother spending the rest of his life caged like an animal.

As I turned back toward Paul, the doors flew open. Paul’s wife, Dara, and Mitch’s wife, April, came bouncing in, laughing as if they were about to meet their hubbies for date night at a five-star restaurant instead of a drink in this hellhole.

Dara gave me an insincere hug. “Oh, Mia, honey. So sorry to hear about Joaquín. But who knew he was into fucking strippers?”

“Fuck you, Dara. Where were you that night? The party was at his parents’ house, right? Maybe it was your husband fucking strippers.”

I hated her and her perfectly blow-dried hair, her designer purse, her lime skinny jeans, probably size twenty-four. Typical SEAL officer’s wife; thought she was better than anyone else. She was a few years older than me, and never forgot to mention her Ivy League education and her vacation home in Lake Tahoe. I didn’t need her pity.

Dara shoved the hair out of her eyes and shot a bitter glare toward Paul. Without a word, he clutched her wrist and led her away from me. Paul went to great lengths to hide his other women from her. Dara loved him unconditionally, and I knew no matter what bullshit he pulled, she would never be able to leave him.

April put her arm around me. “I am sorry, Mia. Joaquín is a good guy. I hope he’s exonerated. Call me if you ever need to talk.”

I thanked her. April and I had been good friends—once. A long-suffering SEAL wife, she was painfully aware of Mitch’s philandering. I never understood their relationship. Grant’s theory had always been that they got off on making each other jealous, but to me, it just seemed deeply dysfunctional.

I glanced at Grant, but when he turned his back on me, I decided I couldn’t take any more. My heels touched the gravel outside, and the bar door slammed behind me. I felt the clang inside my heart, as well. He was done with me. I was alone. Again. No Grant. No Joaquín. No parents. Alone.

That was not the Grant I knew. He was cold, aloof, distant. I understood that he hated me, but he should at least be trying to help Joaquín. Wasn’t he outraged about Joaquín’s false imprisonment? Could he be hiding something? Grant said he didn’t think Joaquín killed Tiffany. Had he witnessed the murder? What in the hell was going on?

Stop, Mia. Just stop.I was clearly stressed out and not thinking rationally. I’d dated Grant for two years; he was a good guy, a hero. He wouldn’t hesitate to give his own life to protect the ones he loved. Like he’d said, he was under strict orders not to talk about the case.

I didn’t want him to sacrifice his career. His Team needed him, especially without Joaquín. Hell, our country needed him. Grant was the best of the best.

Unfortunately, I needed him, too.

But that ship had sailed.

He’ll never be mine again.

I wasn’t going to give up on Joaquín that easily. With or without Grant’s help, I would clear Joaquín’s name. My brother was innocent. He’d sacrificed everything for me since our parents had died, and it was time for me to repay his loyalty.

There had to be a way to free my brother. And nothing would stop me until I found it.

Grant had been right. SEALs wouldn’t talk.

I had only one clue left.

Time to make strippers sing.