Epilogue

IT TOOK THREE months to sort out the mess India’s father had made of the entire family’s lives, but even then, he couldn’t entirely be blamed. All of them had more than willingly bought in to the tale of the never-ending treasure cave filled with gold-doubloons. They’d all wanted to believe, and so they did. It was easier than accepting the truth—that Thomas Fanning, patriarch of the Fanning clan and unofficial leader of Little Palm Cay had run the largest money laundering business the Caribbean had ever seen.

According to Harding, it could take decades to sort out the legalities.

No more rum pancakes at The Tipsy Crab or T-shirts at India’s family shop. In fact, most of the island was a ghost town since the majority of private property had been seized—including India’s condo. She was only here now for a few hours as a court-allowed favor she suspected Harding had had a hand in arranging.

“We got the rest of the boxes,” Briggs said, fumbling through the door. He made a show of having Bridgette carry the unassembled cardboard crates.

As she toddled over the threshold, her giggly grin was contagious.

“Look at you, big girl!” India clapped for her amazing child. “You’re going to run marathons!”

“Nah.” Briggs followed close behind, supporting her every move. “I think she’ll be the first female Navy SEAL. Mark my words, this little sea monkey’s destined for greatness.”

“Cookie!” Bridgette said with a happy squeal.

“There you go,” Briggs scooped her up, raising her heart-patterned T-shirt to blow raspberries on her chubby tummy. “Pure genius. Already vocalizing exactly what she wants.”

“She says cookie eight-hundred times a day—right along with da-da. Just like you taught her.”

Briggs shrugged. “I can’t help it if the kid has taste.”

“Whatever.” India reached for the tape she’d stashed on the coffee table. Packing the condo was bittersweet. Even more so upon realizing everything she’d believed she’d worked so hard for had been an illusion. Her father had held a tight rein on the books, never letting anyone see. All she’d ever known was that the gift shop consistently made record-breaking profits. In hindsight, she’d been embarrassingly naïve. But that’s why they called hindsight 20/20. “When do you want to talk wedding plans? I was chatting with Delilah and she said whatever we do, we should keep our day a secret from the rest of the group or else our honeymoon will get hijacked? Like it’s a Trident curse?”

He winced. “It kind of is. We’ll be the sixth couple on the team to marry, so let’s not make that the sixth couple to have their dream vacation ruined by—” Briggs’ cell rang. He glanced at the caller ID. “It’s Harding. Holy dog doo. It’s like the man has ESP.”

“Doo doo!” Since Briggs had cut back on cursing for Bridgette’s benefit, she’d unfortunately picked up on his substitute terms.

India shot him a glare.

There he went again with one of his shrugs. He kissed the tip of Bridgette’s nose before setting her on the living room floor, then dashing out the front door to answer his call. “Be right back.”

Funny how he’d been terrified of being a dad, yet she’d never seen any man more naturally suited toward caring for a child. He helped with every aspect of Bridgette’s care from feeding her, to diapering, to bathing and washing her clothes. Cooking organic baby food, and reading up on the latest educational trends. He played with her and cuddled her and read books and sang. Their love had blossomed into the most incredible father-daughter bond that shone between them each time they gazed into each other’s eyes.

India loved them both so much it hurt—but in a wonderful way. She couldn’t wait to be an official family. Briggs’ wife.

She wagged her left-hand ring finger, loving how the sunlight sparkled on her square-cut engagement ring.

Briggs wanted a Thanksgiving wedding. Since India was accustomed to celebrating the Turks and Caicos National Day of Thanksgiving, that was fine for her.

India’s mom had moved in with Nettie and Sam, who’d all three had nothing to do with her father’s scheme. It was a tragedy that Turtle had paid the ultimate price by finding the laundered cash drop, reporting it to the local commissioner, then being murdered for being a concerned citizen.

When India then launched her own crusade to find justice for her cousin’s death, she’d had no idea of the unrest she’d stirred within the entire illegal organization.

Most wanted her dead. Her dad fought to keep her alive. He’d also used his infant granddaughter’s life as a bargaining chip.

Sick.

She wasn’t sure she’d ever make peace with the loving father she’d adored as a little girl and this new incarnation she’d discovered him to be.

Hating her mood’s melancholy turn, India made quick work of packing her few remaining photo albums and childhood mementos.

Fifteen minutes later, Bridgette had fallen asleep in a patch of sun.

Just as India finished, Briggs came back inside.

“Want good news or bad?” he asked.

India groaned. “I’m not sure I can take more bad.”

“Perfect. That’s why I respectfully asked Harding to let Jackson take the lead on our next case.”

“You did?” India raised hopeful brows.

He nodded, slipping his hands low on her hips.

“I told him you would soon be a newlywed. There’s no way you’d let me out of the house for a case like this.”

“Like what?”

“Arson.”

“You’re right.” Her knees turned rubbery just thinking about him getting anywhere near a potentially deadly fire.

“In deep southern, Louisiana.”

“Even worse. Like where there’s snakes and swamps?” She shivered. “I’m so glad you won’t be there.”

“Don’t speak too soon—we’re still going. That’s the bad news. Harding hijacked our wedding. Surprise! You’re going to be a bayou bride.”

“That’s not funny . . .” She growled.

He dared lean in for a quick kiss and wink. “Do you see me smiling?”

Look for SCORNED, Book Seven in my SEAL Team: Disavowed series!

Available soon for preorder! Keep reading for a sneak peek . . .