The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea (The Devils #2)(17)

“Oh my God. Stop.” I’m out of the shower after the incident in the ocean, still shaken enough that I needed to hear a friendly voice, and Tali is pretty much the only friendly voice I know of. I pull off my robe and climb into bed naked.

“And for the first time in your life,” she continues, “you felt found and seen, and a piece of you, a secret piece you hadn’t even known was there, recognized he was what you wanted all along.”

Tali just published her first book last summer and is now at work on the second. She can romanticize almost anything.

“Jesus,” I groan. “Are you just reading to me from your next book?”

“My next book is even worse,” she says with a reluctant laugh. “It’s so much worse, you wouldn’t even believe it. Pregnancy is making me so dumb—I couldn’t remember our phone number the other day and Hayes said Well, let’s hope he gets my brain and your looks. But I want to hear more about Joshua.”

I pull the towel off my head and sink back into the pillows. “I was drowning—please don’t turn that into a metaphor—and he decided not to let me die, though he was obviously a little on the fence. It was in no way romantic.”

Except I can still see the sheer determination on his face as he paddled toward me, and the fear in his eyes. I suppose, had Tali been watching, she’d still argue it was a little romantic.

“Is he good looking?”

I sigh heavily. “He’s not repulsive.”

“Oh my God. You’re so full of shit. I’m looking him up. Joshua…what’s their last name again?”

“I’m not telling you.”

“Ha! Bailey. The baby hasn’t taken every brain cell. Bailey, doctor, Somalia…oh. OH. Wow.” And then she starts to laugh. “Holy shit. ‘Not repulsive’? You are such a fucking liar.”

I wish I could see what she sees and I’m also glad I can’t. It’s probably some picture of him refusing to smile, a brooding Viking with a baby in the curve of one bicep and a puppy in the other.

I snort. “Maybe it was a good picture day for him.”

“This guy is a living good picture day.” I hear her then laugh and say Yes, Hayes, you’re handsome too, before she returns to the phone. “And I notice we haven’t discussed Six even once. I assume he’s still in prison?”

I exhale and scratch the back of my neck. “They think it’ll all be settled tomorrow. And don’t make him sound like a serial killer. He made a little mistake, and you’ve got to take the good with the bad, Tali. You put up with Hayes being British, I put up with Six smuggling weed in a guitar case.”

“Sure, okay, but Hayes is also sweet, and loving, and okay-looking, which balances out the fact that he’s British.” I hear a shout in the background and she stifles a laugh. “What balances out Six’s many, many negative qualities?”

I shrug, though she can’t see me. It’s as if I’m trying to convince myself the answer doesn’t especially matter. “He’s laid back.”

“He isn’t laid back,” she says softly. “He’s careless. There’s a difference.”

“Not everyone is going to be Hayes,” I reply. “But if he’s not here by the time we leave for Lanai, I’ll just go back to California.”

“Or you could spend more time with hot Josh who doesn’t get along with his girlfriend and just saved your life in a dramatic sea rescue.”

“Even if Sloane’s generally an asshole, I would never move in on someone else’s boyfriend, nor would you,” I reply. My hair has soaked the pillow. I reach over and grab one from the other side of the bed. “And besides, this is Josh, who also accused me of potentially stealing their silver, Tali.”

She laughs. “You are never going to let that go, are you? Cut him some slack. Maybe Six’s previous girlfriend stole the silver. Maybe there’s someone online claiming you’re a klepto.”

Except, even if there’s some outlandish reason he was such a dick last summer, he’ll still be Six’s brother who lives in Somalia. Clinging to my dislike, at this point, seems…prudent.





That night, at Six’s suggestion, we have dinner “together” though we aren’t even on the same continent.

We convene at nine PM my time, four PM his, me in my room while he sits at the hotel bar with his phone propped up on the center of the table.

I’m yawning even as the conversation starts. “Sorry,” I tell him. “I’ve been waking up in the middle of the night and I can’t fall back asleep after.”

He grins, raising his empty glass to someone I can’t see. “As long as you don’t wake me up once I get there. You know how pissed I get when my beauty sleep is interrupted, and apparently Sloane is cranky enough for all of us.”

“They don’t seem all that thrilled to see each other again,” I venture.

He shoves a piece of salmon in his mouth. “Probably because long-distance relationships never work,” he says.

That statement sits poorly, given that it’s in the nature of our jobs to be apart more often than not. “You seem to be forgetting,” I reply with a disgruntled laugh, “that you invited me on this trip because you wanted long-distance with me.”