Page 33

Pearl

Hot dogs.

That was the first thing I smelled when I stepped back into the common room of the clubhouse.

The place had a weird charm somewhere between rustic biker bar and woodsy lodge.

Anchor had one arm draped around my shoulder as we made our way in, and I wasn’t surprised to see nearly every club member already grabbing paper plates and cracking beers.

It was early evening, the sun just beginning to dip behind the tree line, and the haunted house was scheduled to open in an hour.

I’d assumed, after everything, they’d cancel it.

But clearly, I assumed wrong.

“You’re keeping the island open?”

I asked Anchor as we grabbed a seat at the edge of the long wooden bar. He didn’t answer right away, just handed me a plate and nudged the basket of buns and plate of hot dogs my way.

“We’re not stopping everything because of one sick bastard,”

he finally muttered.

“If we do, they win. We’re watching every inch of this island now.”

I nodded slowly. I took a bun and then a hot dog and slathered it in mustard.

Before I could ask anything else, the front door swung open.

Prime walked in, and behind him was a woman. A freaking gorgeous woman.

She was at least a foot shorter than him, with long, bright red hair that looked like fire against the black tank top she wore. Cut-off jean shorts hugged her curves, and her white sneakers were dirty as hell, like she’d been walking through the woods. Tattoos colored both arms in bold, vivid ink, and she held a black duffel bag like it weighed nothing.

I wasn’t the only one staring. The room got quiet.

“Everybody,”

Prime announced, and raised his hand like he was introducing a damn rockstar.

“this here is Shay. The newest contestant in the Skull Island survival games.”

Shay gave a little wave.

“Hi. Thanks for saving me from a psycho I didn’t even know about.”

Cross hollered from behind the bar.

“There’s hot dogs if you’re hungry. Mustard’s on the left, ketchup’s a sin.”

I glanced over at Anchor.

“Am I allowed to talk to her?”

He thinned his lips.

“Are you getting an attitude right now?”

I rolled my eyes.

“Well, yes, but I genuinely need to know if I can make friends with her or do I need to act... bitchy? Aloof? Seal my lips?”

Anchor chuckled and took a long sip from his beer.

“Make friends, doll. If she feels welcome here, it’ll make our job easier keeping her on the island.”

I watched Prime point out things to Shay, where the bathroom was, the kitchen, and the coffee setup.

She looked like someone I would’ve hung out with back in my old life if we didn’t have a psychopath killing people. I would’ve asked her to grab a drink or go thrifting.

“How much can I tell her about what’s going on?”

I asked Anchor.

He quirked his lips.

“Pretty much all of it. She’s in the middle of it now, just like you were. Can’t drop her off here and not explain shit.”

“So I can be her motorcycle club guide?” I joked.

He leaned in and kissed me.

“Yeah, babe. Have at it.”

I hopped off the stool and made my way toward Shay and Prime. My steps felt awkward, like I was back in middle school approaching the new girl in the cafeteria.

“Hey,” I said.

Shay turned to me, her whole body sagging in relief.

“Oh my God, I was worried I’d be the only woman here.”

“You’re not,”

I smiled.

“Come on, I’ll show you around.”

Prime raised an eyebrow.

“You probably need a tour, too, sweetheart. I was gonna show her to her room.”

Shay looked between us.

I pointed a finger at my chest.

“I’m kind of new, too, but I’m learning quickly.”

“Can she come with?”

“Whatever floats your boat,”

Prime said and waved us along.

As we walked, Shay asked.

“Where’s your room?”

I hesitated.

“Uh... well, I guess it’s technically Anchor’s room, but I’ve been staying in the cabin.”

“I doubt that’s gonna happen anymore,”

Prime muttered.

Shay glanced at me.

“Are you dating Anchor?”

I nodded.

“Uh, yes. Though saying we’re dating feels weird. We’re just... together.”

I would probably scare her if I said Anchor had claimed me. I would save that for another time.

We passed Anchor’s room and went to the last door in the hall.

Prime pulled out a key and opened it. He handed it to Shay.

“I get the key?”

she asked, clearly surprised.

Prime tapped on the door.

“We’re keeping you safe, not keeping you as a prisoner.”

Shay stepped inside.

I peeked in behind her. The room was sterile. Clean, but not cozy. Bed. Dresser. Couch. TV. Two closed doors that I assumed were the closet and bathroom.

Anchor’s room had more warmth, more personality. This one looked like a holding cell.

“Maybe we can go to the store and get some things to liven it up,”

I offered.

Prime scoffed.

“Yeah, I’ll let you run that one by Anchor.”

Shay held up her hands.

“No, no. This is great.”

She slowly spun in a circle.

“It’s great.”

Prime and I exchanged a glance. Even he knew it wasn’t.

Shay moved to the bed and set her bag down.

“I can help you unpack if you want,” I said.

She laughed.

“That’s sweet, but it won’t take long.”

She unzipped her bag and pulled out a small stack of clothes, then made her way to the dresser and slid them inside. After that, she pulled out a toothbrush, toothpaste, a hairbrush, two half-used bottles I assumed were shampoo and conditioner, and a bar of soap. She disappeared into the bathroom.

I turned to Prime.

“You couldn’t let her pack a little more than that?”

He raised his eyebrows.

“I tried to—”

Shay came back out.

“He wanted me to pack more,”

she said plainly.

“but I don’t have anything more. I live in my car. I’m homeless.”

Shay crossed the room and sank down onto the couch like it had been calling her name. She let out a sigh loud enough to rattle the windows and smiled wide like she’d just won the lottery.

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

Prime looked about as lost as I felt.

Shay laughed.

“You two can breathe. I’m not ashamed of being homeless. It’s better than getting my ass kicked every day by my ex.”

Oh.

My stomach turned.

Prime stiffened beside me, and his fists clenched at his sides. If looks could kill, Shay’s ex would already be six feet under.

“Uh, oh. How long have you…”

I hesitated. I didn’t want to say homeless even though Shay seemed more than fine saying it herself.

“It’s been about seven months since I left his ass.”

She leaned back and stretched her arms along the top of the couch like she didn’t have a single care in the world.

“I thought I’d crash in my car for a week or two, tops. Just until I could get an apartment. But landlords want things like steady income and security deposits.”

She laughed drily.

“Neither of which I have.”

She glanced around the room. Her gaze landed on the bed like it was a five-star hotel mattress.

“I know I should be terrified that some crazy dude might try to kill me, seeing as I was literally on a psycho’s kill list, but honestly, I’m kinda stoked to sleep in an actual bed.”

She hitched her thumb in the direction of the haunted house.

“I won’t even go into how cool it is that there is literally a haunted house a hundred feet away.”

That did it. Whatever grip I thought I had on my nerves? Gone. Everything about this girl, the strength, the honesty, the dark humor, hit me straight in the chest. She was a survivor no matter what.

I nodded slowly.

“I get that.”

“Think I can get a hot dog and then test out that bed?”

Shay grinned.

“Hell yes, you can,”

I replied with a smile.