Page 117 of What Doesn't Kill You…

"The DEA found an extensive drug smuggling operation, using flowers shipped around the world," Rodrigo continued. "They also discovered their inside man wasn't doing his job. Damien was paying him to feed the DEA misinformation."

There was a somber silence. A lot of hardship could have been avoided if the man hadn't given into greed.

"As well as drugs, Damien was using the island for weapons smuggling. The DEA is still trying to figure out how he shipped the guns, but Logan has been able to help with that." He glanced at the triplet dressed entirely in black—in the Caribbean.

"There was a safe behind an ugly ass painting in Damien's study." Logan shuddered at the thought of the artwork. "It had some bookkeeping info as well as an encrypted laptop. Which I gave to Evan." He held up a hand, Evan high-fived it. Now it was his turn.

In contrast to his brother, he was wearing a bright orange Hawaiian shirt over purple shorts. It almost put Max off his food.

"I'm still cracking the encryption on the laptop,” Evan said. “But from what I've found so far, Damien has been laundering money for a whole bunch of crime lords. The dude wasn't picky. He's also been working as a broker, or facilitator, between the different gangs, setting up meetings and arranging deals."

"Seems my guess about the island was right," Rodrigo said. "He was using it as neutral ground to facilitate business between parties who wouldn't otherwise talk to each other." He waved a hand. "The whole place is built on dirty money."

"The DEA managed to round up the leaders of three different crime families," Rochelle said. "The two you guys spotted, and another from Russia who was keeping a low profile. They were all here to negotiate with Damien before he met with his partner. It seems his partner was in a position to smooth their way into the American market."

Max put his half-finished plate on the floor at his feet, having suddenly lost his appetite. "Do we know who the partner is?"

Beside him, Violet curved a hand over his thigh. He placed his on top of hers and held it tight.

"Yes," Rochelle said with a smile. "It was Senator Arnold Sherrington."

Max sucked in a breath. "The Secretary of the Interior?"

"The very one." Rochelle said. "His family, and Poole's family, go way back. Sherrington's father and Poole's grandfather were close friends. It seems that when Poole was trying to save the business, the Senator stepped in to help and then wanted more for his money than a chain of hotels. Poole was more than pleased to expand his private business interests, as he was by no means clean before their partnership. Essentially, Damien was the front man and Sherrington used his government influence and connections to make good on the promises Damien made—for a price. Of course, none of this is verified. The Senator told us about the family connection, and lending Damien money, but we’re guessing the rest."

Max's heart sank. With Damien dead, and the Senator far from confessing, all they had was speculation.

"He'll get away with it," he said feeling sick. "We didn't manage to get any photos of him actually meeting with Damien, and he's been so damn cautious that I doubt he'll turn up in any of the notes Damien left behind—unless it’s under a code name or something. He's gonna tell everybody that his being on the island was a coincidence. Hell, he can say he didn't even intend to be here but was herded to the island because of the storm. The DEA will be his alibi." And how ironic was that?

Violet rubbed her thumb across his thigh in a comforting gesture. Evan, meanwhile, was inappropriately beaming at Max. He practically bounced in his seat.

"Tell him," Rochelle said to the young man.

"This is awesome," Evan said, brimming over with excitement. "Remember that bug we accidentally put in a toilet in Damien's house?"

"Yeah." Max clutched Violet's hand, hardly daring to breathe.

"Well, the Senator took advantage of the bathroom to make a phone call on his satellite phone." Evan grinned as he spoke. "I know it was a satellite phone because the cell network was knocked out by the storm and?—"

"Get to the point," Rodrigo rumbled.

"Sorry, right." The triplet sat up straight. "He talked about it all. How he was done with Damien, how the dude had become a liability and he needed a new partner, how he was raking in a fortune from selling access to the States. Between the call and the photos Harris took, we've got him by the short and curlies." He fist-bumped the air before holding out his hand to Rochelle for a high-five.

She stared at him until he lowered it with a disappointed shake of his head.

Max could hardly believe his ears. He turned to Violet. "We got him?"

"Looks like," she said, satisfaction in those dark eyes of hers. "You can write all about him and Damien, tell the world what they've done."

His stomach lurched at her words. "But Damien won't go to jail."

"Some men aren't meant to make it that far," she said with certainty. "You'll still get justice for a lot of people when you expose his operation."

"Yeah," he said as her words registered. "Yeah, you're right. I don't know how to thank you."

Someone cleared their throat, and he looked around to see Harris waving at him. "I believe this was a team effort, dude."

"Harris!" Violet's mother reprimanded as everyone else chuckled.