Page 32

Pearl

I spun the glass slowly on the counter, watching the amber liquid catch the overhead lights. Somewhere behind those closed Church doors, Anchor and the rest of the Kings were having some oh-so-secret discussion, and I wasn’t allowed in.

Because I wasn’t a member.

Even though I’d nearly stepped on a dead body. Even though someone had threatened me. Even though I had practically moved in with the club president.

Still not enough to get a damn seat at the table.

“Aren’t you a member?”

I asked and glanced up at Lost.

He looked up from the bottle he was drying and shook his head.

“Prospect.”

I tipped my head to the side.

“Explain this to me like I’m two.”

Lost chuckled and rested both hands on the bar like he was getting ready to teach preschool.

“I’m a prospect. That means I have to prove I’m worthy enough to be in the club. I do the grunt work. Run errands. Take shit. Follow orders.”

“For how long?”

He shrugged.

“Could be six months. Could be years. Depends on how I do.”

I gaped at him.

“That’s insane.”

Lost just smiled.

“I knew what I was getting into.”

I narrowed my eyes.

“Do you know what they’re talking about in there?”

He blinked like I’d lost my mind. “No clue.”

Liar.

“What can you tell me?”

Another shrug. He busied himself with stacking glasses, clearly done with this line of questioning.

Fine.

I took another sip and slumped onto the bar, chin in my hand. The room was too big, too quiet. Everything about it screamed boys only and I was over it.

Then the Church doors creaked open.

One by one, the guys filed out, Skull, Push, Vin, Piney, Cross. Some headed to the bar, a couple to the kitchen. I watched as they moved with that casual, controlled chaos that always seemed to follow the Kings.

Then I saw him.

Anchor. Broad shoulders, dark eyes scanning the room until they landed on me.

“Doll,”

he called, voice low but commanding.

I turned on my stool too fast and had to catch myself from spinning all the way around. I blinked up at him, unbothered.

“Yes, Grant?”

I said, dragging out his real name just for spite.

I heard Lost let out a low gasp behind the bar. The guys around us paused, and conversation tapered off to nothing.

Anchor stopped right in front of me, his jaw ticking.

“You good?”

he asked. His tone was clipped. Sharp.

“No,”

I said flatly.

“Not really.”

His eyes narrowed.

“You got an attitude right now?”

Yeah. Yeah, I sure did.

I slid off the stool, a little unsteady, but managed not to fall on my ass. Anchor reached out instinctively and grabbed my waist to steady me.

I looked up at him, frustrated, tipsy, and biting my tongue not to lose my shit in front of a room full of his guys.

“I have an attitude,”

I admitted, voice low.

“and I would like to go somewhere... somewhere I can let it out.”

The room had gone silent.

“I’m not going to scream at you in front of everyone, Anchor,”

I added with a forced smile. “Please.”

Anchor muttered something under his breath, then grabbed my hand.

Without another word, he pulled me out of the common room and down a hallway. His boots echoed against the wood floor. I didn’t even look back to see if anyone was watching. I knew they were.

We passed a few closed doors, his grip firm but not harsh, until he stopped in front of one on the end. He pulled a key from his pocket, unlocked the door, and yanked it open.

Then, without a word, he pulled me in.

Anchor shut the door behind us, and the solid thunk echoed through the quiet room.

I stood there, arms crossed over my chest, heart pounding harder than I cared to admit.

“Why couldn’t I sit in on Church?”

He exhaled, long and slow. He leaned back against the closed door like it took effort to keep his patience in check.

“You know why, Pearl.”

“No,”

I snapped.

“I actually don’t.”

His brows rose.

“Because you’re not in the club. Church is sacred. It’s for patched members only. That’s the rule.”

“But I’m trusted enough to sleep in your bed. Trusted enough to stay on this island while a serial killer is running around. I’ve stepped over bodies, Anchor. Been watched. Hunted. And now there’s another USB drive with a new batch of women who could end up just like the others, and I don’t even get to be in the damn room when you all talk about it?”

Emotion clogged my throat, and I hated the way my voice cracked on the last word.

Anchor didn’t rush to respond. He just looked at me, jaw tense, chest rising and falling slow and even like he was working to stay calm.

Then he pushed off the door and came toward me.

“I get it,”

he said softly, cupping my jaw.

“You’re pissed. You feel shut out. But club business is club business. I don’t make that rule, I follow it.”

“I’m not asking for a vote,”

I muttered.

“I just want to know what’s happening.”

“You’re gonna.”

He leaned closer.

“I planned to tell you all along. You just weren’t going to hear it in Church.”

I blinked up at him.

“Then tell me.”

He nodded.

“Prime found Shay; she’s the girl from the second photo on the new USB. She works at the grocery store just off the highway. He’s heading out to bring her in.”

I swallowed hard.

“And the others?”

“We assigned Bob to Bernice.”

I choked on a laugh.

“She’s going to kill him.”

“She won’t know. We’re not telling her anything. She’ll just have someone nearby every minute, whether she knows it or not.”

“And the other two women?”

Anchor frowned.

“Post thought the one with short curly hair looked familiar. He’s going through footage now, trying to place her. The curvy woman? We’ve got nothing. Not a name, not a face match. Total ghost.”

I processed that in silence, hands curling at my sides.

“Why does that have to be so secretive?”

I finally asked.

“It’s not like I’m going to tell anyone. The only people I see are you and the club.”

He wrapped his arms around me, and even though I was still annoyed, I didn’t fight it. His body was warm and solid, his hand rubbing up and down my spine.

“Because things run a certain way in this club,”

he said quietly.

“And that’s how it’s going to be. If there’s something you need to know, I’ll tell you. But no, you’re not going to be in the meetings. You’re not going to hear everything. Not because I don’t trust you, but because this is how we survive. That line between club and everything else? It has to stay there.”

I sighed, and my cheek pressed against his chest.

“It still sucks.”

“I know, doll. But it keeps us alive.”

He tilted my chin up and gave me a slow, wicked grin.

“But for the record? You were sexy as hell throwing that attitude around earlier.”

I raised a brow.

“You like when I’m mad at you?”

He leaned in, lips brushing my ear.

“I wanted to fuck you right there on the bar the second you called me Grant in front of everyone.”

My breath hitched.

“Maybe I’ll get an attitude more often then,”

I whispered.

He growled low in his throat and lifted me off my feet. One arm locked under my thighs, the other firm against my back. My arms went around his neck automatically as he carried me across the room. His mouth found mine mid-step, and the kiss was rough, messy, and hungry.

By the time my back hit the bed, I was breathless.

“You drive me insane,”

he muttered against my lips as his hands skated down my ribs and gripped my hips.

“You know that?”

I looked up at him with my chest rising and falling fast.

“Maybe a little bit of crazy is what you need.”

His mouth curved into a wicked smirk.

“Doll, I need you. All of you.”

He kissed down the column of my throat, his breath hot and heavy against my skin. My head tipped back, a soft moan escaping me as his hands slid under the hem of my tank top. His palms were rough, and the contrast sent goosebumps skittering across my body.

“Take it off,”

I whispered, tugging on the bottom of his shirt.

He leaned back just enough to shrug off his cut and yank the shirt over his head, tossing it to the side. Then he sat up to watch me peel my tank top off, doing so slowly and deliberately. His eyes burned into me, and I felt the full weight of his gaze as I laid back, heart pounding.

He hovered above me. His expression softer now.

“This, us, it’s more than I ever saw coming,”

he murmured and brushed my hair back from my face.

“But I wouldn’t change a damn thing.”

I reached up and touched his cheek.

“Then stop talking and kiss me.”

His mouth found mine again, slower this time. Deeper. His kiss wasn’t a question; it was a promise. That I was his. That I was safe. That no matter what storm rolled in, we’d be standing side by side.

We took our time, exploring each other like we hadn’t already memorized every line and curve. Every sigh, every shiver, every breath between us felt amplified by what we’d been through, what we were still facing. Maybe we didn’t have forever, but right here, right now?

We had this.

When he finally sank into me, it was with a reverence that stole the air from my lungs. We moved together in a rhythm that felt inevitable. Like gravity. Like fate.

My hands curled against his back. His name slipped from my lips like a prayer.

And when it ended, when we collapsed in a tangle of limbs and breath and whispered promises. I felt like I had been completely unraveled and put back together by the man who now lay beside me.

Anchor’s arm came around me and pulled me into his side. Our skin was slick with heat, and our breathing still uneven.

“I’m not letting anything happen to you,”

he said against my temple.

“Not now. Not ever.”

I traced my fingers over his chest, right where his heart beat steady and strong. “I know.”

And I did.

Anchor

God damn, Pearl could get an attitude, but fuck if I didn’t love it.