Page 29

Pearl

Friday afternoon sunlight streamed through the windows of the haunted house. The job was done. Finished. Every wall had been transformed. Every detail of the grotesque and beautiful nightmare Anchor’s club wanted was now complete.

And now, we were packing it all up.

“Careful with that can, Jake,”

I called, watching him lug a five-gallon tub toward the front door.

“If you spill anything on the blood room floor, I will make you repaint it by yourself.”

“I’m never stepping foot in this place again,”

he grunted.

“I keep waking up thinking Bernice is standing at the foot of my bed whispering ‘Death comes for us all.’”

“She only said that once,”

I laughed.

Jake shot me a look.

“Yeah, and that was enough.”

Molly and Brian were already stacking rollers and brushes into plastic bins. Anchor stood nearby with his arms crossed over his chest, his presence like a furnace behind me. He hadn’t left my side all day.

“You good with everything?”

I asked, glancing up at him.

“I’m just waiting for the part where you tell me it’s done so I can throw some money at your crew and keep you to myself.”

I smirked.

“Almost there, Prez. Give me five.”

He did better than that, he stepped in and helped haul two bins out to the porch. I heard him cracking jokes with Brian, and by the time I got out there, he was handing each of them a crisp hundred-dollar bill.

“No way,”

Brian said, holding it up to the light like it might disappear.

“Way,”

Anchor said.

“Appreciate you all helping out.”

Jake fist-pumped the air, and Molly actually squealed. I bit back a smile as they all said their goodbyes. They waved and headed down the path, their voices trailing off through the trees.

I heard the unmistakable shuffle and stomp of Bernice coming down the staircase behind me. She marched right up to Anchor, squared her eighty-year-old shoulders, and gave him a once-over like she was appraising livestock.

“You gonna let me hang around until Monday?”

she asked.

Anchor blinked.

“That’s fine. Not costing me anything.”

She patted his shoulder with a heavy hand.

“Good man. You’re nicer than you look. Don’t let it go to your head.”

He actually chuckled as she pivoted and started her march down the path.

“Love her,”

I whispered.

“I’m terrified of her,”

he muttered back.

Dad was the last one out. He walked over to Anchor and offered his hand.

“Your crew did a hell of a job,”

Anchor said.

Dad shook his head.

“Pearl’s crew. I just sign the paychecks.”

My cheeks warmed. Dad turned to me, his eyes soft.

“I think I know the answer, but I still gotta ask, are you staying?”

I didn’t hesitate.

“Yeah, Dad. I’m staying. At least for a while.”

I glanced at Anchor.

“Found something here I didn’t know I was looking for.”

Dad nodded slowly.

“Just like me and your mom. Love at first sight.”

Was it love? I didn’t know. Not yet. But it was something. Something deep and tangled and terrifying in the best way.

He hugged me tight and whispered.

“You’ll always be my baby girl.”

“I know,”

I murmured, my heart aching in the sweetest way.

He walked off down the path, leaving me and Anchor alone in the quiet that settled around the haunted house.

Anchor looked over at me, his smirk curling.

“And then there were two.”

I crossed my arms, but I was smiling.

“Are you sure you want me to stay?”

“Doll,”

he growled.

“Do I have to show you just how badly I want you?”

A shiver skated down my spine.

“I mean… you could.”

Before I could blink, he bent low, threw his shoulder into my stomach, and lifted me like a sack of potatoes.

“Anchor!”

I shrieked, laughing.

“Put me down!”

“Not a chance.”

He smacked my ass and started walking down the path.

We passed Skull and Prime by the kettle corn shack. I was upside down but could see both of them smirking.

“You’re not gonna help me?” I called.

Skull raised his hands.

“That’s the Prez, sweetheart. He can do whatever he wants.”

Anchor just kept walking like he was carrying precious cargo.

“I think being Prez has gone to your head,” I teased.

He smacked my ass again.

“Don’t act like you don’t like it.”

When we got to my cabin, the door slammed behind us. He crossed the living room in six strides and dropped me onto the bed. I bounced once, laughing as I pushed my hair out of my face.

Anchor stood over me, his chest rising and falling, the heat in his eyes unmistakable. He shrugged off his cut and tossed it on the back of the couch, then yanked off his shirt in one smooth motion.

I sat up on my knees, breath catching in my throat. “Wait,”

I said, sliding off the bed. I dropped to my knees in front of him. “Let me.”

His eyes darkened as I ran my hands up his thighs.

Anchor’s eyes locked with mine, and something primal flickered behind them like his control was hanging on by a thread. His knuckles were white where his hands curled into fists at his sides. His chest rose and fell with steady, labored breaths, like he was fighting the urge to devour me right there.

When I reached up to undo the button on his jeans, his muscles tensed beneath my fingers. I kept my movements slow, savoring the crackling electricity between us. I peeled open the denim, feeling the heat of him radiating from underneath. My fingers grazed the line of his hard cock, and he let out a low groan that made my pulse skip.

“You trying to test me, doll?”

he asked, voice gravelly, dark with promise.

“Maybe,”

I whispered.

He hissed between his teeth as I pressed a kiss just above the edge of his briefs. Then another. And another. My hands slipped around to the back of his thighs as I pulled the fabric down, revealing him inch by inch. The weight of his desire thick and heavy in front of me.

He cupped the back of my head, fingers flexing in my hair, not to guide me, but to hold on. “Pearl…”

he growled like it hurt to say my name.

I looked up through my lashes and held his eyes as I finally took him into my mouth.

The groan that ripped from his chest made my whole body clench with want. He rocked his hips forward instinctively, then cursed and pulled back slightly, trying to give me control. Trying not to fall apart. I set the pace, slow, deep, and with every pass of my tongue, every little moan I made just for him, I felt his restraint unraveling thread by thread.

“Christ,”

he ground out.

“You’re gonna be the death of me.”

Good.

His thighs trembled under my hands, and when he finally lost it, fingers gripping tight in my hair, chest shuddering, I swallowed every last bit of his release. His hand slipped from my hair, trailing across my cheek as I sat back on my heels and wiped the corner of my mouth.

He stared down at me like I’d just rewritten the world.

And then he moved.

In one swift motion, he hauled me up off the floor and into his arms, crushing his mouth to mine. The kiss was wild and claiming, like he couldn’t get close enough. He broke away just long enough to whisper, “My turn,”

before he laid me back on the bed, pulling my shirt over my head and tugging my shorts down in one breathless blur.

I reached for him, and my nails raked over the hard lines of his shoulders. “Anchor…”

His mouth found my collarbone, then lower, marking a trail across my skin that made my back arch off the bed. When he moved inside me, the stretch was slow and deep, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, wanting him as close as possible.

We moved together like we’d done this a hundred times and were still desperate for it. His hands roamed my body like he was memorizing every inch, every curve, and every sound I made. He whispered my name like it meant something holy. Like it belonged to him.

And I wanted it to.

When the tension finally snapped inside me, it felt like falling and flying at the same time. I cried out against his skin, and his own release followed seconds later. His face was buried in my neck with a broken groan, and his entire body shook above mine.

He didn’t move right away. He just stayed there, face pressed to me, breathing hard, and holding me like he couldn’t let go.

And I didn’t want him to.

Not tonight.

Not ever.

Anchor

Pearl lay beside me. The sheets tangled around our legs, and the heat of her skin still clung to mine like a second layer. We were both on our backs, staring up at the ceiling as if it held answers. It didn’t, but hell, maybe we were both hoping the paint above us could whisper something, anything, that might make sense of the chaos surrounding us.

“Why does this feel like the peace before the storm?”

she asked softly.

I reached for her and pulled her into my side. She came willingly and rested her head on my shoulder like she belonged there, which, at this point, she did. Whether she fully realized it or not, she was mine.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen next, doll,”

I murmured and ran my hand slowly down her bare back.

“But I know I’ll be right next to you. Nothing’s gonna touch you.”

She sighed, and it was heavy. Tired. The kind of sigh you let out when you’re bone-deep worn and trying not to admit it.

“Let’s talk about something else,”

she said, her voice muffled by my shoulder.

“I’m sick of worrying when the next bad thing is gonna happen.”

A low chuckle rumbled from my chest. I kissed the side of her head.

“What do you wanna talk about?”

She turned her face toward me, eyes finding mine in the dim light. The moon outside the cabin window cast silver shadows across the room. Her smile was soft but mischievous.

“What’s your name?”

I quirked a brow. “Anchor,”

I grunted.

“You’re telling me your birth certificate says Anchor?”

I smirked and side-eyed her. “No.”

“Then what does it say?”

I hesitated. It wasn’t like it was a secret. Just something I hadn’t heard in a long time. “Grant.”

She blinked, surprised.

“That is not what I thought you were gonna say.”

“What’d you think it was?”

She grinned and traced a lazy fingertip across my chest.

“I was hoping it was something... more plain? Funny? I don’t know. I figured it had to be bad if you changed it.”

I reached up and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Didn’t change it. The club did. And it didn’t happen until I became Prez. Up until then, it was just Grant.”

“That’s interesting,”

she murmured.

“Why did it take that long to get a new name?”

“Road name,”

I corrected and brushed my knuckles down her arm.

“And nothing clicked until then. Skull actually came up with it. I was about six months into being Prez. He told me I was bringing the club back together, making it whole again. Said I was like an anchor, holding it down.”

She snorted softly.

“You bikers can be pretty philosophical when you want to be.”

She tilted her head, eyes still on mine.

“Is that why Bob doesn’t have a road name? Nothing’s come to you guys yet?”

I laughed.

“That is his road name, doll.”

Her brow wrinkled.

“Seriously? What does that mean?”

I shook my head.

“That’s a story only Bob can tell.”

She smiled but didn’t push. We went quiet for a beat. The kind of silence that doesn’t feel awkward, just settled, comfortable.

“I was talking to Lost earlier,” she said.

I grunted.

“First we’re talkin’ about Bob while we’re both naked, and now you’re bringin’ up Lost?”

She laughed, but she leaned up slightly, still nestled close.

“It’s about you, I swear. I asked him about motorcycles. I told him I never really see you guys ride.”

I exhaled through my nose, amusement threading my voice.

“That’s ‘cause dead bodies have been popping up every damn week. Normally, we ride every day.”

“Can we go for a ride tomorrow?”

she asked, hope bleeding into her voice.

I sighed.

“Doll... we need to be careful right now.”

She raised up on one elbow and looked down at me.

“We don’t have to leave the island. Can’t we just... ride around it?”

I looked at her for a long second, the way her messy hair curled around her cheek, her bare skin still flush from what we’d done. The way she was still trying to live in the middle of this madness. Still trying to claim a piece of normal.

“You really wanna go for a ride that bad?” I asked.

She shrugged, but her smile said everything.

“I mean, I’ve never been on a motorcycle before, and plastering myself to you while we cruise around sounds like fun.”

“Yeah,”

I said with a chuckle.

“That’s a pretty accurate description.”

I leaned up and kissed her, soft but deep. A promise pressed against her lips.

“I’ll see what I can do to make that happen.”

“Promise?”

she whispered, the hope in her voice making something tight coil in my chest.

I nodded.

“Promise, doll. We’ll go for a ride soon.”