Page 35 of Deadly Sins

Cherie started squirming. I didn’t want to let her go but reluctantly handed her back to her mother.

“I’m gonna try to put her down,” she said in a whisper. “I’ll join you all out in the backyard when I’m done.”

The blonde with the dancer’s body left the room with me, while the other two women stayed behind with Annie.

The blonde turned to me. “Sorry, I didn’t introduce myself back there. I’m Sara. How long have you known Grant?”

I studied her face; she looked familiar. “Only a short time. He is good man. Who are you together with?”

She laughed. “Kyle.”

Whoa.I’d known Kyle for over four years. He’d never had a girlfriend, ever. Such a player. I was intrigued that he possibly could’ve found whatever he was looking for.

Outside, Sara joined Tori and Dara at the patio table. Pat was grilling while that surfer dude and the Marine helped him out.

I made my way over to Grant and his buddies—Kyle, Pat, Joe, Vic, and Paul. Grant put his arm around me. “Ksenya, this is Joe.”

“Nice to meet together with you.” I offered my hand. Joe looked the same—hulking arms, long brown hair, brown eyes.

Kyle winked at me. “I have an announcement. This beautiful doll has just been hired as the newest bartender at The Pickled Frog. I know you’ll all miss Vic’s ass moping around, but I’ll just keep him in the kitchen since no one wants to look at him.”

Vic’s lips widened into a grin. “That’s not what Sara said last night.”

All the men just laughed. I held back my own giggle, a tinge of sadness creeping over me. I used to love listening to Joaquín and his buddies razz each other.

Vic was sexy as all hell, dark skin, glinting eyes, dimples for days, full-sleeve tattoos. Since his divorce a few years ago, I’d never seen him with another woman. He didn’t seem like the stripper-loving type. Then again, neither had Joaquín or Grant.

My attention turned to Paul. Totally stood out from the rest of the men—short brown hair, no tattoos. If you ignored his cut body, he could easily pass as a Wall Street banker. He had money, was educated at Annapolis, a classy officer type. The party Tiffany died at was held at his parents’ home.

Maybe an unknown person had been at the party? I couldn’t imagine any of these men killing Tiffany. There had to be another explanation.

But I had to remember that no matter how these men acted, they were all Navy SEALs. They all had a dark side. And I was determined to find out what each one’s vice was.

Grant narrowed his eyes, squinting at me. “Can I get you a drink, babe?”

Before I could answer, I noticed Mitch inside the kitchen. I needed to talk to him. Alone.

“I go to get it myself. I left my purse inside. Do you want one another beer?” I’d purposely left my purse in the nursery just in case I needed an excuse to snoop around.

His lips gave me a sly smile, which made me wonder what he was thinking. Then, he answered, “Always.”

Yeah, that’s what I thought. SEALs drank and swam like fish.

I walked back into the house and strolled slowly down the hallway, perusing the photos on the wall: Pat and Annie’s wedding photo, a beaming Gabriel by their side; a picture of Pat kissing Annie at last homecoming. Hell, there were even pictures of them doing one of those cheesy maternity photoshoots with Pat rubbing her belly. Man, he must be whipped.

I reached the doorway. Before I knocked, I held my breath, hoping to overhear something.

Luck was on my side.

Annie spoke in a low tone. “But, Grace, I just can’t believe Joaquín murdered someone. God knows all the SEALs have serious issues—fuck, I met Pat because he hired me in a brothel. But murder? Yes, they’re trained killers, but they have this code. I don’t buy it since Pat said Joaquín was such a great guy. There just has to be another explanation. Maybe something in Tiffany’s past. It’s still so fucking tragic, especially the way the media acts like it was her fault. Like her life had no value because of her job. After what I went through, it pisses me off. You’re FBI…can’t you investigate?”

Grace didn’t immediately respond. The conversation lulled. I knocked on the door, and Annie let me in. Apologizing, I grabbed my purse and headed back toward the kitchen with a new spring in my step.

I had read everything I could about Tiffany, but the information I’d found had been scarce. I needed to launch a new investigation. Find out more about the victim, and maybe then I could find her killer.

I poured some cranberry juice and vodka into a red Solo cup for myself, grabbed another beer for Grant, and waited for Mitch to approach.

I didn’t have to wait long.