Sobered at her continued insecurity, Fee took the conversation in another direction.
“Do you think we should’ve told Christopher? Maybe, if we had told him at first, Daphne would still be alive.”
Stretch slid closer to her. “Don’t feel guilty, sweetheart. Daphne made her choice. If you’d confessed to Outlaw, he still would’ve killed her.”
“Along with me, Stretch, and Kendall,” Cash added. “And he might not have forgiven you. We’re all in collusion.”
Fee wrinkled her nose. “He wouldn’t have killed Kendall. She’s family.”
Stretch shrugged. “It doesn’t matter now. It’s over. Daphne’s dead. Hopefully, Kendall has finally learned her lesson.”
That would be a no. “Christopher wouldn’t hurt her,” Fee insisted, concerned she’d given Kendall the wrong advice. “He couldn’t live with himself. Don’t you think he regrets killing Daphne now that he’s calmed down?”
Cash snorted. “Fuck no.”
Absently, Stretch rubbed his leg. “I believe he’d regret killing Kendall because of Johnnie.”
“Over lunch, Kendall told me she had to take sleeping pills to erase the image from her mind. Knowing she was behind Daphne’s appearance, she also said Johnnie didn’t talk to her.” Today, though, he seemed to have been so worried about her.
Fee was learning how Kendall exaggerated matters. Then, again, she’d witnessed Johnnie’s anger firsthand at the restaurant.
If anything good came out of the deaths of her sisters and nieces, it was the secrets she was uncovering about her family. Christopher and Johnnie were less god-like in Fee’s eyes. They were real men with a gamut of feelings. Johnnie wasn’t always easy going, and Christopher wasn’t always serious. Zoann wasn’t only her sister, but her equal.
Somewhere, deep down, Fee had known that. She’d just never taken the time to recognize it.
“Johnnie not talking to Kendall won’t help her frame-of-mind.” Stretch shook his head. “It’ll make her worse.”
An image of Charlotte Redding rose in Fee’s head. Charlotte was the bad news, the one egging Kendall on, convincing her that she knew best. “Roxy hasn’t been calling Kendall, so, of course, Charlotte is pointing out that she wasn’t really her friend. She’s playing on Kendall’s insecurities. I don’t know what to do.”
“Stay out of it, Fee,” Stretch ordered. “You came out of this situation unscathed. Don’t fall for Kendall’s bullshit again. She’s on a collision course with Outlaw.”
Yeah, if she went through with her plans. “Should I go to Johnnie again?”
Cash shook his head. In his chair, enjoying his beer, his presence filled the room, drawing attention as always. He seemed casual, almost unconcerned, but Fee knew he took in every detail of the conversation, every movement she made. A predator scoping out his prey. Her body responded as much to the danger Cash represented as it did to the protection she perceived from Stretch. The more time they spent together, the closer she felt to them. Stretch surprised her the most.
Underneath his gentleness was a man who enjoyed pleasure. His vulnerability gave the perception of weakness. In reality, he was as strong as any of the men in her life.
Cash and Stretch. Strength and serenity. Her lost boys.
“Johnnie will be watching Kendall closely now,” Cash interrupted her thoughts. “With Daphne’s death, there’s not much Kendall can do on her own. What’s done is done, babe. Let’s not spend the rest of our evening talking about Kendall and Daphne.”
“Cash is right, Fee. Do you want something to drink?” Stretch asked, standing. “There’s more beer in the fridge, as well as white wine.”
“I’ll have a beer,” she answered.
Cash’s sudden torrid stare sent heat rushing to Fee’s cheeks. She wanted them so bad. In wordless agreement, they hadn’t made love in weeks, focusing on getting to know each other, truly listening to how their day had gone, their likes and dislikes, what made the other laugh.
So far, more serious issues hadn’t been addressed. That needed to change. If she knew Cash lined up his beers in a certain manner because it relaxed him, then she should know about the end game to revealing their relationship. She shouldn’t feel paranoid—jealous—over a dead woman.
Stretch handed her an opened bottle, then reseated himself close to her.
“Thank you,” she said, tasting her drink. “Delicious.”
“Not as delicious as your lips would be,” Cash murmured in his deep timbre, setting butterflies off in her lower belly.