Page 27

Pearl

I didn’t know how long I’d been standing in the middle of the haunted house, staring at the same damn wall, but the paintbrush in my hand had gone dry. Again.

Bernice’s voice cracked across the empty air like a whip.

“You planning to paint that wall with your mind, girl, or are we actually working today?”

I blinked. “What?”

She waved her own brush in a lazy circle.

“You’ve been holding that thing like it was a magic wand, but unless you’re about to conjure me a new back and a margarita, I’d suggest actually dipping it in some paint.”

Molly snorted from a few feet away.

“If Pearl starts conjuring drinks, I’m gonna need a double. My arms are killing me.”

I gave them a half-smile and dipped the brush back into the tray.

“Sorry. Just zoning out.”

Bernice raised a brow but didn’t press. She’d been giving me a little side-eye ever since I showed up this morning, same as yesterday. I didn’t blame her. I’d been off.

Most people would be if they knew there was a psycho out there planning to kill them.

We all got to work, but I knew they were watching me. Dad especially. My dad didn’t hover, not usually, but today, he kept drifting close, asking if I needed water or a break. I appreciated it, I really did, but it only made the anxious little buzz in my chest worse.

When lunchtime rolled around, Jake and Brian took off down the path to grab their lunch from their trucks, and Molly joined them, claiming she needed fresh air.

I sat on the bottom step of the grand staircase, paint flecks clinging to my skin, and leaned my head back until it hit the banister behind me.

Lost, who’d been stationed by the front door since eight a.m., cleared his throat.

“You good, Pearl?”

“Fine,” I lied.

“You’ve been off today. Normally you’re all over the place painting.”

I looked at him through half-lidded eyes.

“You keeping tabs on my productivity, too?”

He shrugged.

“Kinda my job, isn’t it? And you didn’t put me to work today.”

That made me grin, just a little.

“Your job is to keep me safe, and I’ll make sure to put you to work after lunch.”

“Forget I said anything,”

he chuckled.

Bernice clomped down the stairs like she was trying to scare the ghosts out of the walls. She huffed once, dramatically, and planted her fists on her hips.

“I’m headed to the cabins. This body don’t run without fuel, and I’ve had just about enough paint fumes to give a horse a headache.”

I turned to look at her and smiled.

“Do you want me to walk with you?”

She waved me off like I was a nuisance.

“You stay. This old lady can make it to her cabin without dropping dead.”

She paused, scanned the big room, and her gaze lingered on the front door. She sniffed.

“Though this place feels weird today. Make sure that biker man keeps his arms tight around you, Pearl. Some things can slip through the cracks.”

She gave me a look that landed like a chill and then turned on her heel, marching out the front door.

I watched her go, confused and a little uneasy. I moved out the front door and sat on the top step of the porch.

“What the hell was that about?”

Lost asked.

“I... don’t know.”

I turned toward him.

“Bernice says a lot of things that sound like metaphors wrapped in riddles. But that one? That felt off.”

Lost tilted his head and looked out the door where she’d gone, then shrugged and flopped down onto the top porch step to stretch out his legs.

“She kinda reminds me of my nana. Spooky little old lady who said she could smell ghosts.”

I gave him a look.

“That’s not helping.”

He grinned.

“Didn’t think it would.”

I sighed and enjoyed the early afternoon sun filtering through the trees. It should’ve been peaceful, but that unease stuck with me, clinging like a cobweb I couldn’t quite find.

“So,”

Lost said, pulling out a can of soda and cracking it open.

“You think you’re gonna finish on time?”

I leaned against the railing and nodded.

“We better. We’ve got two more rooms to detail and then just final touch-ups. I think we can finish by Friday.”

He took a long drink.

“Guess that means I’ll have to go back to my real job, huh?”

I laughed softly.

“I think Anchor wants me to stick around.”

I watched Lost to gauge his reaction to that.

He didn’t have one.

“Then I’ll probably be stuck to your shadow then, too.”

Yeah, he would be as long as the psycho wanting me dead was out there.

We sat in silence for a few minutes, watching squirrels dart across the trees, and Cross and Piney rolled past on a golf cart toward the dock.

“You know,”

I said.

“for being a motorcycle club, I don’t really see you guys ride motorcycles.”

Lost chuckled.

“We normally do, but things are a bit different right now. Anchor doesn’t really want any of us straying too far from the island.”

That made sense.

“So, when this is over, you think Anchor will give me a ride on his bike?”

Lost nodded.

“I guarantee you will be on the back of his bike. That’s where an ol’ lady belongs.”

That wasn’t the first time I had heard ol’ lady.

It had a ring to it that I oddly liked. Just like with anyone else who said they owned me wouldn’t fly, but with Anchor, it all felt right.

Maybe that was my sign that this was right. Even though it was a bit crazy right now.

By the time the crew returned from lunch, the strangeness of Bernice’s words had mostly been pushed to the back of my mind. We all filed into the haunted house and got back to work. Jake was taping off the ghost bride’s mirror frame, Brian was painting smoke tendrils on the ceiling, and Molly was crouched down, painting cryptic messages on the floorboards in glow-in-the-dark paint.

Lost stayed close, too close, but he did it quietly, sitting on the stairs again, thumbing through his phone and glancing up every now and then like he wasn’t watching, but totally was.

I was detailing cracks in the plaster with a tiny brush when the heavy creak of the front door had everyone pausing. Even the haunted house seemed to hold its breath.

And then he stepped in.

Anchor.

He walked in like he belonged there. Which, I guess, he did. President and all. But when his eyes locked on me, the tension in my shoulders unraveled.

He crossed the space without hesitation, ignoring the crew, and cupped the back of my neck.

His lips met mine in a kiss that was all heat and promise. My brush clattered to the floor. When we finally broke apart, I was breathless, and everyone was watching.

Molly let out a low whistle. “Damn.”

“Get a room,”

Jake muttered.

Brian grinned.

“I mean, technically, they’re in a haunted one already.”

I tried not to laugh, especially when I noticed Dad watching. His arms were crossed over his chest, but… he wasn’t scowling. In fact, when Anchor met his gaze, Dad gave a small nod. It was the kind of nod that said I see you. Don’t fuck it up.

I cleared my throat and wiped my palms on my jeans.

“We’re on schedule. If we keep up today, we’ll be done by Friday. Ghost bride’s room is almost finished.”

Anchor nodded. “Good.”

He glanced toward Lost.

“Still keeping eyes on her?”

Lost saluted.

“She hasn’t gone anywhere without me.”

“Good.”

Anchor looked back at me and lowered his voice.

“I know you don’t like it, doll. But you’ve got a psycho out there with a hard-on for chaos. Until we find out who the hell it is, I want you with someone at all times.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Yes, I know. Lost has practically become my second skin.”

Anchor’s expression darkened.

“This isn’t a joke.”

I sighed.

“I’m not joking. I just… don’t like being babysat.”

“And I don’t like the idea of you in a shallow grave, Pearl.”

His voice was low, rough, full of heat and fear.

“We do this my way. You go home with Lost when you’re done here. I’ll meet you back at the cabin.”

I hesitated, then nodded.

“Fine. But you owe me.”

His brow lifted.

“Owe you for what?”

“For listening to you and not arguing like I really, really want to.”

He laughed and pulled me against his chest.

“I’ll keep that in mind, doll.”

He kissed me again, softer this time. A promise in the middle of madness. Then he turned and left, leaving me standing there with my heart hammering in my chest and everyone pretending not to stare.