SPENCER LOVEJOY III

six months ago.

"Thanks for coming, Spence."

Davina snort-laughed, tickled by her little play on words. Lucky she was so cute, and that I was still in my post-nut haze, or I'd have called her out on how fucking lame that one was.

Better not to ruin the vibe though. She'd been in a playful mood all day, and I liked playful Davina. I liked her in all of her forms, but when she was being bubbly and cute, life just had more color.

Those moods were rare since her dad got put away four years ago, but they peeked out here and there, and the old her came out. The one I'd known since Kindergarten. The one I'd fallen for before I even knew what it meant to catch feelings.

"It was my pleasure," I said, fastening my pants and slipping my shoes back on. "Yours, too, I would imagine..."

...by the sounds you made.

Davina pressed her lips together to smother a smile. Still laid out on the couch where I left her with barely any use of her legs. I ran my eyes over the length of her naked body. If she never wore a shirt again in her life, I think I could die a happy man.

When my gaze lingered for too long, she sat up slowly and cleared her throat, looked around for her clothes. "You better go or you'll miss your dinner date."

Kicking me out. Surprise surprise. But at least this time, she was right. I was going to be late, if I wasn't already.

"How does it feel, by the way?" She came to her feet, smirking as she got dressed. "Fucking one of the Harlow twins and making dinner for the other?"

My lips tilted helplessly up as I watched her across the living room. Playful Davina was on fire tonight.

"You sound a little jealous that I didn't invite you over to shoot the shit with me and Dalton."

She narrowed her eyes on me. "Actually, I just want to try your famous chicken wings for once. All my brother ever does is rave about them. And yeah, maybe I'm a little butthurt that you've never offered for me to join you. Especially since he's been working so much lately."

"It's bro night." I shrugged. "March Madness. Bad beer. Inappropriate conversation. Can't have chicks around for that. No matter how hot you are. You'll catch him at your family dinner tomorrow anyway."

"I suppose you're right," she sighed. I didn't miss the blush of pink on her cheeks from me calling her hot. "Just say you like spending time with me more, and I'll leave it alone."

Tilting my head, I took a good long look at her. From that wavy, dark mess of her hair to those gray eyes that held a piece of my universe inside them. Silky skin my fingers ached to touch at all times and lips that could call me home anytime, if only she would.

We never got enough time together. Not nearly as much as I wanted. But I could say, definitively, that I liked spending time with her more. I liked it so much that I agreed to be fuck buddies with her, since it was all she could offer to protect her heart. No matter the fucking wreckage it did on mine.

"I like spending time with you a whole lot more, Diva Davina," I said, ignoring the ache in my chest, wondering if she'd ever feel the same.

I let myself out like I always did and headed back across the street to my house, right in time to see Dalton pull up.

He parked his flashy, new Range Rover in front of my house before hopping out of the drivers' side. Seeing where I was coming from, he shook his head as we met on the front porch and I pulled out my keys.

"I won't bother asking what you were doing over there," he said, smiling as he avoided my eyes. He focused on the door as I turned my key in the lock. "Really? You lock up when you're just going across the street?"

"Yep. Every time I leave the premises." I shrugged and pushed the door open, gesturing for him to go first, adding, "You should too. Better safe than sorry."

"Yeah, yeah." Dalton rolled his eyes and stepped inside. "Spoken like a true cop."

I gave him a tight smile and led the way to the kitchen, letting him believe my safety measures were purely from my line of work. A small part of it was. Given the men in my family were law enforcement, I'd always been taught to err on the side of caution. But it was more than just that, lately anyway.

Ever since I found a tiny, magnetic audio device fixed to the top of my fridge, I'd been a tad more vigilant about security. On top of the basics, I now regulated every single conversation that took place and regularly scanned for bugs. At my house, Davina's if I could get away with it in the short time I spent over there, and I also checked her mom's place from time to time.

I couldn't mention that to Dalton though. He may have been my best friend, but we worked on opposite ends. While I didn't think he was responsible for the placement of the device I'd found, everyone wanted a piece of each other's intel in Fairhaven, and I couldn't rule out his older brother or one of the other Amato guys. It was best to keep my mouth shut until I knew more.

Dalton headed to the fridge, making himself at home as he pulled out two beers and grabbed the bowl of chicken wings that I'd been marinating since this morning. After what Davina told me, I made a mental note to set a few aside for her.

I got to work on the wings, getting them ready to fry on the stove, while Dalton kicked back against the counter, watching and checking his phone in between pieces of conversation.

"How's my sister?" He surprised me by jumping right into a topic we didn't usually discuss. While supportive to an obligatory degree, he didn't exactly like the arrangement between me and Davina, and I didn't exactly give a fuck. "I haven't seen much of her lately."

As I dropped chicken wings into the oil, I spared him a glance over my shoulder. "From what I hear, that's your doing more than hers, since you've been working too much. But as far as she lets me know, I think she's fine."

Fine.

It felt shitty that I couldn't say great or amazing. Or one of the many other adjectives reserved for truly happy people. But Davina was a tricky case. She spent most of her time worrying. About her brothers' safety, her mother's health. Still angry that her dad was in jail. She may have had her better days, that one being one of them, but I couldn't remember the last time she'd seemed truly happy and carefree. It killed me inside.

Dalton didn't seem equally afflicted. I knew he cared about his sister, more than almost anyone. But somewhere in the last few years, as he got deeper and deeper into The Amato Group, he'd become a much colder version of himself than the person I once knew.

"Yeah, speaking of work..." Breezing over the part about his sister, he started in on the next thing we didn't usually talk about. And not just because of the whole being on opposite sides thing.

With the discovery of the listening devices, discussing "work" matters really wasn't a good idea. But it was too late to try and change the subject, and my shoulders tensed up as Dalton finished his thought.

"I saw you over at the docks the other night."

I kept my eyes on the stove, watching the oil bubbling around the wings. "That was police business."

"Sometimes it's hard to tell," he replied, "considering who you spend your time with."

"What does that mean?" I turned my head to look at him, not expecting the accusation in his eyes. It always freaked me out how much they looked like Davina's. They weren't identical twins, but they shared the same set of stormy gray eyes.

Dalton took a long swig from his bottle of beer. "It means that I usually tell Davina to be careful when it comes to you. And that's always been because of your old man and his...extracurricular work."

"You mean, the same work you do?" I asked, tossing my own accusation his way. "Just under another organization?"

"Details." He shrugged. "My point is...lately, it seems like you've been spending a lot of time with Parisi. And considering Parisi spends a fair amount of time with me and Dante, it's...well, you see where I'm going with this."

"No, I really don't," I said, knowing exactly where he was going with it. "Why don't you enlighten me."

As he set his bottle down and took a hesitant step in my direction, I turned back to the stove like I wasn't all that invested in what he had to say. But on the inside, I cringed at where our conversation was already going. It wasn't normal for a bro night.

"Davina wants no part of this life." Dalton's voice was unexpectedly soft. He paused while I took out the cooked wings and tossed a few more into the oil. When I was finished, I spun back around to face him again. "Not after what she's seen," he continued. "Not after what our dad allowed her to lay witness to and what it's done to our mom. You know I've always believed you're one of the good guys, but I have to look out for my family."

"I'm aware," I said before he could add anything else. I was caught somewhere being pissed off and sympathizing with him, leaning toward the former.

I knew damn well where Davina's head was at. It's why mine stayed in a constant state of dismay. She was the most important person in my life. All I'd ever wanted to do was protect her and keep her safe, but she kept me at arm's length. Because of all the things Dalton had so nicely pointed out just now. Except he left out the most important part.

As much as they liked to preach family, all of the Harlows had their blinders on when it came to Davina. Whether blinded by greed or love, sense of duty or some twisted version of family loyalty, I don't think a single one of them had her best interest at heart. If they had, Davina wouldn't have spent the last decade white-knuckling it through life.

I yanked the wings out of the oil and then turned off the stove, abandoning dinner for the moment because I needed to make something very clear.

"Look, Dalton, you're my best friend," I began. "It's been that way since we were kids, and since I don't like to rock the boat on that shit, I usually reserve this type of criticism for Dante..." His posture straightened up a bit. "But not a single one of you has had Davina's back in years. She's scared all the fucking time. She lives her life waiting for the other shoe to drop, which is no way to live. All I'm trying to do is be there for her through all the motions your family keeps putting her through. That's all she'll let me do."

We faced off in the kitchen for a few long seconds, some of the longest of my life. I could tell in the tick of his jaw that my reality check had pissed him off, but those gray eyes held an ounce of vulnerability, a heap of hurt. I knew what it looked like because I'd seen the same expression in Davina's eyes a million times over.

After a moment, he cleared his throat, cleared his face of all emotion. "So...you're still one of the good guys then?"

I nodded slowly. "Yes, I'm still one of the good guys."

"And Parisi?"

"Don't worry about Parisi." Or rather, don't talk about Captain Parisi in this house where someone might be listening... "Our work together is on the up and up."

The thing Dalton didn't know about Parisi was that while he played both sides, he belonged to mine. And yeah, being a double agent meant he had to do some shady things here and there for the other guys. But I was never involved in that stuff. I only helped him with the missions that benefited the greater good.

That meant brushing shoulders with some unsavory people, sure. But I wasn't one of them. I wasn't David Harlow. I wasn't Dalton or Dante. I wasn't my old man.

"And what about your dad?" Dalton asked next.

Speaking of my old man...

"What about him?" I crossed my arms over my chest.

Dalton's eyesbrows dipped up. "I ran into him at the shipping port last night."

Not surprising.

"And? His work is none of my fucking business."

That part was true. I wouldn't go near my dad's business dealings with a twenty-foot pole. He was mixed up with too many bad people, stretching far beyond his days as a dirty cop and a crooked police chief. The latest of which being Bruce Landry, a small-time weapons runner from Philly.

He was new on the scene and nothing close to being one of the trusted partners my dad had built a working relationship with over the years. The guy was too hungry, too green, and the connection was foolish. Especially here in Fairhaven where lots of other people had a long-running stake in the same game. People like Amato.

Fuck, if he made the wrong guy angry...

"I'm not talking about his work, Spencer," Dalton muttered, his voice gone wary. "I'm more concerned about his mental state."

Oh. That.

My gut twisted up, sending me straight back to last week when my mother had said something eerily similar.

"What do you mean?" I asked anyway. I didn't really want to think about it, let alone talk about what might've been going on with my dad. But gathering more intel could never hurt since Mom was hoping to build a case with our family doctor.

Dalton looked down at the floor, popping his knuckles a few times before meeting my eyes again. "Dante and I were heading out as he was coming in. I stopped and said hi, but he looked at me like he didn't know me. He just..." Confusion filled his face as he tried to find the right words. "He studied my face for like a full minute, Spence, but he couldn't remember my name. Finally, he just patted me on the back and walked away. It was really weird."

Weird was putting it mildly. Our families had known each other for years. Dalton and I spent too much of our childhood together for my dad to just...not recognize him out in public.

"I ran into him at the diner," Mom had said last week. "I had a legal question about the...well, the divorce, you know. But he was completely lost. He couldn't follow the conversation at all, and he couldn't remember the word for cup when he tried to order a coffee. It was like his mental state was completely gone."

I pulled in a deep breath, trying to organize my thoughts. As often as I could, I avoided being around my old man, but I couldn't deny having my own weird story logged away. From about two months ago, when he had to call me for a ride because he'd misplaced his keys. Long as I'd known the guy, he'd never had such a stupid blunder as that before.

Something was going on, and whatever it was, it only seemed to be getting worse.

"I'm not sure what that's about yet," I finally answered, scrubbing a hand over my face, in need of a reset. "But we're figuring it out."

One truth and one lie. It would have to do.

"Alright." Dalton nodded. "Keep me posted."

"Will do."

In the next breath, things were back to normal. Back to a proper bro night, where we drank beer and ate chicken wings and talked about basketball. Dalton mentioned he might be going to Chicago in May, and I told him how much I hated being a cop.

It was the usual stuff, normal. But I spent most of the evening distracted in my thoughts. I couldn't stop thinking about my old man.

The forgetfulness wasn't like him at all. He'd always run such a tight ship. As a husband and father, both of those to his own destruction, and especially at work. Smart as a whip, the guy you gave all the details to because he never forgot a single one of them.

When Dalton left for the night, I overthought myself right onto my Ducati and straight to my dad's place. When the divorce proceedings began, he moved into an apartment building in town. It was still weird to me that my parents weren't living together anymore.

Parking my bike on the street, I tucked my helmet under my arm and headed toward the building, noting a black SUV situated a few yards ahead. It wasn't immediately alarming. Lots of people in Fairhaven got around in similar vehicles, most of them had nothing to do with me.

But before I even hit the stairs to the big glass doors, they opened and three men stepped out onto the sidewalk, one at the front and one walking right behind Bruce Landry.

Speak of the devil...

They turned toward the SUV, but when Bruce saw me from his protected spot in the middle, his brows rose in surprise and his eyes shone with delight.

"Spencer Lovejoy," he said my name like we'd known each other for years. "We were just on the way to your house."

"Oh yeah?" My eyes scanned the immediate area before landing on Bruce again. "And why would you be heading there?"

"Because we need to talk," he replied simply.

I turned toward the building as a sick feeling entered my gut. "Is my dad alright?"

Bruce smiled, ignoring my question. "Let's go somewhere and talk." He gestured to the black SUV on the street. "It won't take long, I promise."

***