Page 9 of Lawless (Dauntless Island #2)

DOMINIC

M y second morning on Dauntless started much the same as my first, where I paraded around the village with a dumb smile on my face and everyone either ignored me or glared at me like they wanted to murder me.

Mavis Coldwell glared at me like not only was she going to murder me, but she was going to make sure it was especially gruesome, and I raised my travel mug at her with a grin as I continued on my way.

Victory tasted like coffee with a dash of fresh milk.

When my foot patrol of the village lasted all of ten minutes—there was only so long I could drag my feet—I followed the curve of the dirt road as it turned east at the end of the houses and led up the slope of a hill to the lighthouse.

It was beautiful, its white tower framed by the stark backdrop of the brilliant blue sky.

About halfway up the hill I turned around to look back at the village.

From this distance it looked like something off a postcard, the sun gleaming on the walls of the sandstone cottages, the yards and roofs and bits of road a patchwork quilt of colours, and the sea glittering beyond the harbour wall.

I breathed in a few deep lungfuls of sea air, and felt all the tension I’d been carrying in my body leave me.

Maybe Dauntless wasn’t so bad after all.

Which was right when a labrador retriever violently took me out at the knees, and I pitched forwards and face-planted on the track. “Ow.”

The labrador stuck its black snout in my face and huffed excitedly.

“Ow,” I said again, and rolled over onto my back. This was a tactical error because the dog sat on my chest. I watched as the long sliver of drool that hung from the dog’s mouth lengthened and lengthened and lengthened, and then— splat . It hit me right on the chin. “Ugh.”

A silhouette loomed. “Are you okay?”

I shoved the dog off me and got to my feet.

Squinted at the guy. He was tall and broad, with scruff on his face that was a brighter shade of ginger than the hair on his head.

He was wearing yellow high-vis pants, boots, and a grimy blue T-shirt that had more holes in it than the last season of Game of Thrones .

“I’m fine, yeah.” I wiped my gritty palms on the arse of my pants then held out a hand. “Dominic Miller.”

“Red Joe Nesmith,” he said, and actually shook my hand. “I’m the mayor.”

“Yeah, nice to meet you,” I said, and it actually was, since he was the only islander who knew how to smile, apparently.

“I was supposed to come and see you, but the dog got up to some trouble,” he said, and glared at the dog, who beamed lovingly back at him. “This is Hiccup. I hope she didn’t hit you too hard.”

The dog wriggled at hearing her name, and came to lean heavily against my knees.

“Hard enough to knock me on my arse,” I said, patting the dog’s head, “but nothing’s injured. Oh, shit. My travel mug!”

Hiccup found it hiding behind a tussock of grass and brought it back to me. The lid had popped, and my coffee had leaked everywhere.

“Come on up to the lighthouse,” Red Joe said. “Eddie’s got a machine.”

The dog bounced after us as we headed the rest of the way up the hill.

Two brown hens raced over to meet us, feathers ruffling in the wind.

Red Joe nudged one out of the way with his boot and, outraged, they both raced off again.

They disappeared around the corner of the little cottage that stood in the imposing shadow of the lighthouse.

“Dominic!” Eddie exclaimed from the kitchen door of the cottage. “Are you okay? Most people know not to turn their backs on Hiccup. She has a lot of love to give, and unfortunately she doesn’t always give it gently.”

“It’s fine,” I said, and tugged one of Hiccup’s silky ears. She beamed at me.

“Come on in,” Eddie said. “We’re just finishing up breakfast.”

I had coffee with Eddie and Red Joe at the table in the kitchen of the cottage beside the lighthouse, hardly able to draw my gaze from the salt-stained windows.

I’d thought my view from my place was amazing—and it was—but the view from here was a hell of a lot more dramatic.

The tussocky green grass dropped away into nothing but the sky.

It wasn’t until we went outside for a tour of the place that I saw it was a trick of perspective.

There was actually a path down the cliffs to the crashing sea below, steep but navigable.

In some places there was even enough room for pine trees to grow, even though they were a lot scragglier than those on the other side of the hill.

“Come on,” Red Joe said, nodding at the lighthouse. “Want to go up?”

I couldn’t stop my grin as I followed him, and Eddie brought up the rear.

The inside of the lighthouse was weirdly vertigo-inducing.

I tilted my head back to look up, and was reminded of a helix or some other geometrical pattern I’d probably got the wrong name for.

The tower got narrower towards the top, and so did the stairs, and for a moment, staring up along the central post of the tower, my brain couldn’t quite comprehend that.

Instead, I had the sudden wild and crazy thought that the tower was miles long instead, and only seemed narrower because of the distance.

That moment of confusion came wrapped up in a little wave of vertigo.

I blinked to get my eyes and my brain back on the same page, and then grabbed the rail of the stairs and began to climb.

“Wow,” I said, as my thighs started to feel the ache. “You do this every day?”

“Twice a day,” Red Joe’s voice echoed back. “More in bad weather.”

We reached the top of the lighthouse, which was taken up by the biggest lantern I’d ever seen in my life.

It was taller than I was, and it was amazing.

I’d once pulled apart a cheap kaleidoscope when I was a kid, and it’d blown my tiny brain with mirrors reflecting mirrors reflecting mirrors—this felt like that on a much bigger scale.

Red Joe smiled proudly at the lantern. “It’s called a Fresnel lantern. The design dates back to the late seventeenth century. This one has?—”

“Over 700 lenses,” Eddie gasped, staggering into the room. “ God . Why can’t we get a lift installed again?”

“Because it’s an historical landmark ,” Red Joe said, blinking at him. “And if you took their central post out to make room for a lift, the whole thing might collapse.”

Eddie hunched over and gasped for breath, his hands on his knees. “You don’t know that for sure. I think it’s worth the risk.”

“Agree to disagree,” Red Joe said mildly.

Eddie groaned. “Keep going with your tour patter, then.”

Red Joe narrowed his eyes. “I don’t have a tour patter.”

Eddie straightened up and smiled at me. “Dominic, the lantern has over 700 lenses, and the bivalve lens prism directs the light into a single beam.” He waved at the lantern like a showcase model on a gameshow.

“The lantern was originally powered by a vaporised kerosine burner and could be seen fourteen nautical miles out to sea.”

“Eighteen,” Red Joe corrected.

“Eighteen,” Eddie said. “I was close.”

“Sure you were,” Red Joe said. “Dominic, want to see outside?”

“Yeah!” I followed him out and Eddie joined us.

It was windy as hell this high up, and I could see all the way down past the cliffs and into the sea.

It looked rough and wild close to the shore, but distance smoothed it as it stretched out to the horizon.

I kept one hand on the rail as I walked slowly around to the other side of the lantern room, and Dauntless Island revealed itself to me: the village, the harbour, the path I’d walked up to get here.

But that was a small fraction of the island.

From the lighthouse, I could see trees, fields planted with crops, the roofs of buildings I hadn’t visited yet, and, halfway down the hill to the village, Hiccup running around in circles like a little black bug.

Eddie laughed, moving in to stand behind Red Joe and take his hand.

“This is amazing,” I said, leaning on the rail. “Wow.”

This was a world away from Sydney. This was like no other place I’d ever seen.

Okay, so most of the residents wouldn’t piss on me if I was on fire, but at least the view was lovely.

It was enough to make me wish I owned a decent camera, instead of relying on my phone’s.

It was also enough to make me wish I had someone’s hand to hold as I contemplated the view—and all the life choices that had led me here.

Red Joe nodded his head at me after a while, and I turned to look in the direction he pointed. There was a white speck on the horizon, drawing closer. “That’ll be your police boat.”

I couldn’t stop the look of abject relief crossing my face that I was about to get some police backup. Emotional backup, but it still counted.

“How’s it all going?” Red Joe asked intently.

My stomach jolted. “It’s not too bad.”

He raised his eyebrows.

The truth spilled out. “Everyone hates me, and I can’t even buy milk, except on the downlow.”

Red Joe snorted. “Yeah, Eddie said. Listen, it’ll take a while for people to come around, but they will. Even Mavis.”

“Really?”

“Mavis lives on gossip,” Red Joe said. He opened the door to the lantern room and held it against the wind while Eddie and I got back inside.

He slammed it shut behind us, and the lantern room felt oddly quiet and still compared to the wild, windy catwalk just outside.

“She won’t be able to stop herself from digging into all your secrets. ”

“I don’t have any secrets,” I said, finger-combing the worst of my windswept hair into some semblance of style again.

“You weren’t born here,” Red Joe said, “and that makes you full of them.”

Eddie nodded. “Meanwhile, if I ever want to know about that time Red Joe skinned his knees when he was six, three quarters of the island will be able to tell me within ten minutes. And the only reason the last quarter won’t is because they’re out on the boats and won’t be back until dusk.”

“Seriously?”