Page 20

Pearl

The island was quiet in a way it hadn’t been since I got here.

The air smelled like pine needles and leftover fear. The screams from the haunted house were gone, temporarily silenced, and the docks weren’t buzzing with activity. It was just us. Me, the paint crew, the club, and a whole mess of secrets.

“Alright,”

Anchor said, his voice slicing through the tension like a hot knife through cold butter.

“We’re closing down the island until Saturday.”

Molly blinked. “What?”

Anchor stood with his arms crossed, wearing that don’t-ask-me-any-damn-questions expression.

“Haunted house is off-limits to the public until we wrap up some maintenance around the island.”

Beside me, Bernice snorted.

“Maintenance, my wrinkled ass.”

Anchor didn’t miss a beat.

“Paint whenever the hell you want. Use the time.”

I knew this wasn’t about maintenance. The USB drive. That fear I’d felt last night was still sitting in my chest like a stone.

Anchor took a step toward me. “Pearl.”

I turned to face him. I couldn’t read his expression, but the shadows under his eyes told me he hadn’t slept. Neither had I.

“I need to head out around the island. We’ve got more cameras going in.”

I nodded. “Alright.”

“Lost will be with you.”

That got my hackles up. “Anchor—”

“No.”

His voice was low, rough.

“I’m not arguing about this. If I’m not with you, Lost is.”

I let out a long sigh.

“I don’t need a babysitter.”

“I know. But I need peace of mind. Let me have that.”

There wasn’t much else I could say to that. I gave a small nod, and he stepped a little closer. Not close enough to kiss me, but enough that I felt the warmth of him.

“I’ll see you in a bit,”

he said, so softly I barely heard it.

Then he was gone.

The second the door to the haunted house creaked shut behind him, all eyes turned to me.

Brian tilted his head, one eyebrow arched.

“So... anything you want to share with the class?”

I looked at my dad. His arms were folded across his chest, and I knew that look. It was the same one he used to give me when I came home late in high school. Like he was waiting to hear what kind of shit I’d gotten into.

But before I could open my mouth, Bernice clapped her hands.

“Oh, don’t look at her like that. You’re all blind if you didn’t see this coming. That biker had eyes on her the second her paintbrush touched the walls.”

Molly looked between us.

“I mean… yeah. I see it now.”

She shrugged and smiled.

“Whatever makes you happy, girl.”

Brian and Jake made matching grunts and headed off to their paint stations, like two teenage boys who didn’t want to talk about feelings.

That left Dad and me.

He stayed behind, his eyes still on me.

I stepped toward him, feeling about ten years old. “Dad…”

He held up his hand.

“You’re twenty-nine, Pearl. You don’t owe me an explanation.”

I blinked. “I, what?”

He sighed, his shoulders slumping.

“I just want you to be careful.”

His words hit me harder than I expected. The last few days had been a whirlwind, and careful hadn’t exactly been in my vocabulary. Not when Anchor was involved.

“I will be,”

I promised.

He looked at me then, his expression softening.

“You like him?”

The question caught me off guard. I flashed back to the time I told him I was going to prom with Darren Whitmore. He’d asked the same question, and I’d said yes. That ended with me walking home barefoot after Darren tried to slide his hand up my dress and got a high heel to the groin.

“Yes,”

I said quietly.

“I like him. I’m also pretty sure he likes me, too.”

Dad let out a low humph.

“From the way he was looking at you, I’d say so. I remember looking at your mom that way.”

The lump in my throat came out of nowhere.

“If he breaks your heart,”

Dad added.

“I’m gonna break his nose.”

From the corner, Lost let out a snort of laughter.

I bit back my own smile. Dad didn’t stand a chance against Anchor if it ever came to that, but I appreciated the sentiment.

“I’m sure you will,”

I whispered.

He leaned forward, wrapped me in a hug, and pressed a kiss to the top of my head.

“You’ll always be my baby girl.”

“I know.”

Dad climbed the stairs to work on the second floor, and I turned to Lost.

“You don’t have to stay in here, you know. The porch is fine.”

Lost shook his head.

“Anchor said eyes on you at all times.”

“Well, shit,”

I muttered, pulling my hair into a ponytail.

“Then I guess you’re learning how to paint today.”

I grabbed one of the extra brushes from the tray and held it out to him.

Lost stared at it like it was a rattlesnake.

“You serious?”

“As a heart attack.”

“I’m gonna ruin the walls.”

I grinned.

“Better the walls than Anchor’s sanity if he finds out you let me out of your sight.”

Lost reluctantly took the brush.

“If I screw this up, you’re telling him it was your idea.”

“Oh, it absolutely was.”

I handed him a bucket of primer.

“Start here.”

Lost groaned like I was torturing him, but he dipped the brush in and followed me to the next wall.

We painted in silence for a few minutes, him grumbling under his breath, me trying to focus. But my mind kept drifting back to that photo. The one of me on the porch. The shirt I’d been wearing three days ago. The way my hands had been holding a cup of coffee and my eyes had been looking off into the woods.

Someone had taken that picture.

And they had been close.

Now Anchor was out there trying to find out who.

I just hoped whoever it was didn’t get to him before he did.

And if they did…

God help them.

Anchor

Monday on Skull Island arrived with the kind of peace that made my shoulders ache. No tourists. No boat horns. Just the wind rustling pine needles and haunted-house fa?ades leaning in the silent morning.

We’d shut everything down until Saturday with my decree to protect Pearl and secure the island. It wasn’t just maintenance; it was surveillance, clearing brush, checking perimeters, and, above all, keeping eyes open in every direction.

I started out at sunrise and walked the outer trails with Skull and Push. Lost had been posted at Pearl’s door with strict instructions to stay right next to her. Our mission: install cameras and line-of-sight monitors where the last body had washed up. We lugged gear, tripods, solar panels, hard drives through thorns and tall grass that bent toward the afternoon sun. I snipped branches with my pocketknife, Skull carried the big camera poles, Push flagged the spots.

“You sure about this angle?”

Skull asked as we positioned a camera facing the cove.

I nodded.

“Edge of the water, but high enough to capture the trees behind. Anyone coming in or out will show.”

Push wove through the brush.

“Feels like overkill.”

I shrugged.

“That asshole got a picture of Pearl at her cabin. We’re not taking chances.”

No one argued.

By mid-afternoon, I was sweaty and filthy. My shirt was glued to my back, and I headed toward the haunted house.

As I approached, I spotted Brian, Jake, Molly, and Bert stepping out onto the dirt path in front of the house.

They nodded as I passed, but Bert paused and stepped five feet toward me with his arms folded over his chest.

I stopped. “Bert,”

I said with a grin, though I could taste the tension in the air.

Bernice came down the stairs. She looked tired, like the day had already beaten her, and she hung a left toward the cabins, then paused with her hands planted on her hips.

“My back is killing me, and I just want my bed,”

she called over her shoulder, voice loud enough for the lot to hear.

“Don’t keep me up tonight, biker boy.”

Yup. Good ol’ Bernice. Zero filter, ninety percent sass.

“Will do, Bernice,”

I shot back.

She huffed and swaggered down the path between cabins.

I turned to Bert.

“How’s the job going?”

He looked me in the eyes without turning.

“I know about you and my daughter.”

That had punched me in the gut because I didn’t think Pearl had told him yet.

My jaw was set, ready for whatever he had to say to me.

He nodded slowly, his silence thick with meaning. Finally, he said.

“My daughter makes her own decisions. But at the end of the day, I’m her family, and I don’t want anything to happen to her.”

“Nor do I, sir.”

I shifted my respect.

There was that pause before he said.

“We’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Have a good night,”

I responded and watched him turn and walk inside.

Inside the haunted house, I re-centered myself as I passed into the musty light. I could hear Pearl’s hammer clink and tap as she finished off lids on paint cans.

Lost was there too, sitting on an overturned crate.

“Everything good today?” I asked.

Lost frowned.

“Your ol’ lady put me to work, Anchor.”

I chuckled.

“It’s good for you. You’d be bored all day watching paint dry if she didn’t give you something to do.”

He shot me a look.

“I’m okay with being bored every now and then. I’m hoping tonight I can enjoy being bored.”

“I’ve got her tonight,”

I told Lost.

“You can take off.”

He nodded, heaved himself up, and headed out.

“See you tomorrow, Prez.”

The moment the door clicked behind him, it was quiet again.

She looked up. Wearing cutoff denim shorts and a light blue shirt, elbow-length sleeves rolled, and a smear of paint on her knee.

I swallowed.

“Putting my guys to work?”

I asked, my voice softer than I intended.

Pearl dipped her head and tucked her hair behind her ear.

“I mean… didn’t want him standing there all day doing nothing. Anyone can paint with direction.”

“Are you going to put me to work now?” I teased.

She shrugged slowly.

“I can think of a thing or two I could… use you for.”

She’d said it with enough innocent banter, but her eyes widened when I lunged and pulled her into my arms.

She squealed, breathy and light, and I kissed her. Passion flared, close and desperate; our lips battled and melded, and her arms wrapped around my neck. When we pulled away, both of us were wheezing.

“I missed you.”

Pearl’s voice shook in the humid air.

“I missed you too, doll,”

I said, and brushed a stray lock from her face.

Her smile was so small, fragile, and I felt my chest tense all over again.

“Talked to your dad outside.”

Her shoulders stiffened.

“What’d he say?”

I took her hand and led her toward the stairwell.

“That he knows about us. Wants to protect you.”

“Oh, lord,”

she laughed, a shiver running through her. Nervous. Beautiful.

“We’re barely together. We’re literally in the early stages—”

“Barely together?” I asked.

“Yes.”

She sighed.

“This is new, and with everything going on… I don’t want to make it something more than what you think it is. Too much…”

I leaned closer and brushed my lips against her temple.

“Too much what?”

She hesitated.

“Just, this is fast. Like… fast-fast.”

I slid an arm around her waist and pulled her flush.

“You know what’s fast?”

I smirked, eyes whiskey-dark.

“Bernice when it’s quitting time. You and I are just right.”

She giggled again, and it sounded like wind chimes in a storm. She stared up at me.

“I do have one question.”

“Hit me, doll.”

She bit her lip and gathered courage.

“If you think I’m yours… does that mean I can think you’re mine?”

The world slowed.

I took both her cheeks and brushed my thumbs over paint dust.

“That is exactly what it means.”