Page 19

Anchor

Pearl had tried to shower twice. Both times, she’d made it halfway to the bathroom before I dragged her back to the bed.

Couldn’t blame a man. She was temptation wrapped in soft curves, smelling like me and still flushed from the way I’d worshipped her all morning. But eventually, I let her go, told her I had to head to the clubhouse to check in on things.

I left her at the cabin, swearing I’d only be gone an hour.

It’d been forty-five minutes, and all I could think about was going back.

Skull was parked at the bar, flipping through a clipboard of supply orders. Prime and Post were arguing about whether they needed more smoke machines or if the ones we had were enough to fog out a funeral home. Normal Sunday bullshit.

Then the door slammed open, and Lost came flying in like he’d just lit his damn shoes on fire.

“Boss! Boss!”

he shouted.

I twisted around on my stool.

“Jesus, Lost. You got a damn bullet in you or what?”

“No. I was cleaning out one of the coffin displays,”

he huffed, and wiped sweat from his brow.

“The big one by the torture chamber. Fucking teens had stuffed trash wrappers, soda cans, even a damn condom wrapper in there.”

“That’s Skull’s section,”

I muttered.

Skull grunted.

“Bastards. I throw away my shit.”

Lost pulled a small black USB drive from his pocket and held it up.

“This was taped to the bottom of the inside lid.”

Skull straightened.

“You look at it?”

Lost shook his head.

“Didn’t have anything to stick it in.”

Skull chuckled darkly.

“Cross! Get the laptop,” I called.

Cross jogged in from the hallway with the battered black club laptop. He handed it over to Skull, who opened it on the bar and inserted the drive.

I stood up and moved next to him. Lost lingered close, chewing the inside of his cheek.

The folder popped open. Five files. No labels.

Skull clicked the first one.

A picture filled the screen.

“What the fuck?”

Vin muttered, stepping in from the pool table.

“That’s Mick Barber,”

Bob said, voice low.

“The first guy.”

The photo was up-close and clean. A headshot. Mick was smiling.

Skull clicked again.

Mick’s girlfriend. Alive. Probably the same photo they used on the news.

The third file opened.

None of us recognized the man in the picture.

“That who I think it is?” I asked.

Skull nodded slowly.

“Yeah. The one we found yesterday.”

He looked pale, even in life.

I turned to Lost.

“Where exactly did you find this again?”

“Bottom of the display coffin in the haunted house. Taped in the lid.”

“And you’re sure it wasn’t there before?”

“I would’ve seen it,”

he insisted.

“Shit,”

I muttered.

“Any more files?”

Pull asked.

Skull nodded.

“Two left.”

He opened the next.

A grainy image of a man none of us knew. Sitting on a bench. Hands in his lap. Just… staring ahead.

Post leaned in.

“That the next one?”

Vin crossed his arms.

“Like a hit list.”

I didn’t say anything. I just nodded at Skull.

He opened the final image.

I stopped breathing.

Pearl.

Standing on her porch. Wearing that yellow T-shirt with the little cherry on it.

That was three days ago.

My stomach dropped to my damn boots.

“Holy shit,”

Cross whispered.

The image was zoomed in, like it’d been taken from the trees. She had a mug in her hand. Her hair was up in a bun. She was looking down at something, maybe her phone.

I didn’t realize my hand had clenched into a fist until I felt the crack of my knuckles popping.

“This means someone’s been watching her,”

Bob said grimly.

“On the island.”

Behind us, the front door creaked open.

“Uh, hi?”

We all turned at the same time.

Pearl stood just inside the doorway of the clubhouse, her hand still in a half-wave like she wasn’t sure if she was supposed to be there or not. Her hair was damp, curling around her shoulders, and she was in a soft hoodie and jeans. A far cry from the way she’d looked tangled in her sheets not more than an hour ago. She looked fresh, warm from the shower, but her lips still a little swollen from our morning.

She smiled slowly, unsure.

“Am I interrupting something?”

I shot to my feet. Pushed back from the barstool so fast it scraped loud against the floor. “No,”

I said too quickly.

“You’re good.”

She took another cautious step in as her eyes flicked over the group of guys who were all now doing a shit job of pretending they hadn’t just been staring at a picture of her on a USB drive we found in a goddamn coffin.

“What’s going on?”

she asked, her voice careful but not timid.

“We were just…”

Skull began, but his voice trailed off.

“Working on some stuff,”

I finished for him, my voice low as I moved toward her.

She looked at me as her brow pulled together.

“Is everything okay?”

I couldn’t lie to her. Not anymore. Not after this morning. Not after the photo.

“We need to talk, doll,”

I murmured as I got to her. I gently rested a hand at the small of her back and steered her out of the room.

“Come with me.”

“Anchor,”

Skull said behind me. I didn’t turn around.

“Not now.”

I led her down the hallway, around the corner, and into the back office—my office. I closed the door behind us and leaned against it. She stood in the center of the room, looking at me with wide, questioning eyes.

“There’s something I need to tell you,”

I said, and her brows shot up.

She didn’t speak. Just waited.

“I need you to stay calm, alright?” I said.

“You’re scaring me.”

“I know. I don’t mean to.”

I took a breath and stepped toward her.

“A USB drive turned up today. Lost found it in a coffin.”

Her eyes widened more.

“A coffin?”

“It’s part of the haunted house stuff. Props. It was trashed by kids. He was cleaning it out.”

I raked a hand through my hair.

“The drive had pictures on it.”

“Of what?”

I paused.

“Of the victims.”

Her face went still.

“Mick Barber. His girl. The guy from yesterday. A guy we don’t know. And… one other.”

She paled. “Who?”

I didn’t speak. I didn’t have to. She knew.

She swallowed. “Me?”

I nodded once.

“Oh, God.”

She stepped back until her knees hit the edge of the desk, then slowly sat on the edge.

“It was taken from outside your cabin. Three days ago, I think. That yellow shirt you were wearing. You remember?”

She nodded, looking down at her hands.

“Yeah. I remember.”

I crouched in front of her and rested my hands on her thighs.

“We don’t know who took it or why. But you’re in this now, Pearl. Really in it. I’m sorry, doll.”

Her breath shook.

“They’re watching me.”

“They won’t get near you,”

I swore.

“Not while you’re on this island. Not while I’m breathing.”

She looked at me then, really looked.

“You can’t promise that.”

“I can,”

I said, firm.

“And I just did.”

She blinked fast, trying not to cry.

“So what do we do?”

“We find out who’s behind it. We lock this place down tighter than a drum. No one gets on or off this island without us knowing about it. We can shut the haunted house and boat tours down. And until we’ve got answers…”

I cupped her face.

“You don’t go anywhere without me. Understand?”

“You can’t shut down the haunted house,”

she insisted.

“Isn’t that how you guys make money?”

I nodded.

“Yeah, but keeping you and the club alive is more important. At least for a couple of days, we’ll shut down. We have good surveillance, but there are spots around the island we don’t have eyes on. The guys can work on getting all of that buttoned up, and then we can open back up.”

She nodded.

A beat of silence passed between us. Then she asked, “Why me?”

I didn’t have a true answer for her.

“I don’t know. I’m sure it has to do with me and the club. This person is watching, and must know that you mean something to me.”

Just then, there was a soft knock at the door.

“Yeah?”

I barked, standing.

Skull opened the door slightly, his face grim.

“I didn’t want to interrupt, but… we need to talk about the guy in the fourth photo.”

“Later,”

I snapped.

He nodded and shut the door.

Pearl stood and came toward me.

“You think I’m next, don’t you?”

I pulled her into my arms, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“I think whoever’s behind this just made a massive mistake.”

“Why?”

“Because now they’ve pissed me off coming after you.”

My voice dropped low.

“And I don’t lose the people I care about.”

She pressed her forehead to my chest.

“I care about you too, you know.”

I wrapped my arms tight around her.

“Good. Then we fight this together.”

And we would.

Whoever was fucking with the Kings of Anarchy, and now, with Pearl, was about to learn the hard way what that really meant.