Page 62 of Property of Anchor

I didn’t answer.Just let the silence hang.

Razor sighed.“Look, I don’t know what’s going on there, but Venom was the kind of guy who made enemies everywhere.You’d need a goddamn chalkboard to track all the people who wanted him dead or wanted to work with him.But if you’re sniffing around that name, I’d trust your gut.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“Listen,” Razor said, his voice lower now.“If Venom’s back… you better hope it’s not personal.He doesn’t do half-measures.If he’s got a grudge?He’ll scorch the fuckin’ earth.He hates my fucking guts, and I’m sure the Kings of Anarchy fall into that same category.”

I clenched my jaw.“Good to know.”But why now was he coming for the Kings?It had been ten fucking years since shit hit the fan.

“You ever need backup—”

“You’re out, Razor,” I grunted.

“Yeah,” he said quietly.“But I still give a shit.Especially if it’s him.”

We sat in silence a moment longer.

“You think I’m wrong?”I asked.

“No,” Razor said.“I think you’re probably right.I just hope it’s not too late.”

I ended the call without another word.Set the phone down on the desk and leaned back again, staring at the ceiling.

If Venom was behind this, then it wasn’t random.It was personal.

Which meant the storm wasn’t over.It was just getting started.

And now I had something to lose.

Pearl.

And I’d burn this entire fucking island to the ground before I let him get near her if he was responsible for this.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Anchor

The sun was just starting to lower behind the trees as I made my way down the dirt path toward the haunted house.The sound of waves slapping the edge of the dock echoed up from the lake, and the occasional bird call bounced between the branches overhead.The day had been long.Too long.And I needed to see her—Pearl.Just one glimpse of her and maybe I’d stop grinding my damn teeth.

The scent of paint and fresh sawdust hit me before I even made it to the clearing.

“Biker boy,” Bernice called.

I looked up to see her standing at the edge of the porch with a wide-brimmed straw hat perched on her head like she was fresh out of the garden, even though she was splattered with gray paint and had a strip of masking tape stuck to her forearm.

“Looking for Pearl?”she asked.“Your girl’s still inside putting away brushes or yelling at Lost for dripping black paint on a white wall.”

I smirked.“That man couldn’t color inside the lines if you paid him.”

Bernice huffed a laugh and slowly stepped off the porch.She rolled her shoulders as she came down the stairs, and her hand massaged the small of her back like it’d been giving her grief all day.“I’m too damn old for this much climbing,” she muttered.

“You heading back to your cabin?”

“Mm-hmm.Been a long day,” she said.“Your woman runs a tight ship.And don’t you dare tell her I said that, or she’ll think I’ve gone soft.”

She moved to me, and she stared out down to the dock.

“Used to be quieter here,” she said suddenly.“Before the boats.Before the haunted house turned into some cursed carnival ride.”