I want to fight him, but my feet move. I’m tired and feeling sick, and the truth is that message did scare me, and without a gun under my pillow, I guess it wouldn’t hurt to have him round just in case. So, I let him guide me into his room.
He flicks on a light and pulls back the covers. His bed is all dark and moody like him. The sheets are charcoal, and the rest of his room is neat and tidy, almost looking unlived in. But the scent in this place is overwhelmingly him. Danger laced with addiction. That’s what it would be called if it was bottled.
I was so obsessed with him, my friend’s big brother. I knew he was bad to the bone, and back then that was exciting. And he’s right, back when we were teens, everyone thought we would end up together, that we would be perfect for each other. Everyone except my parents, and that’s why nothing ever happened between us. Well, that and the other boys we spent so much time with. How could I be with Kasen when I had a thing for the four of them. It never felt right, but they were all important to me. I didn’t want to screw up what we had. Every member of the Deadwater Crew meant so much to me. And that’s why when they were happy to have me shipped out of town, it killed me. They were everything to me, and I meant nothing to them.
“Sleep,” he demands whenI haven’t moved.
I glance between him and his bed. This is a big moment, or it would have been to fifteen-year-old me. But the reality is, this might be his bed, but tonight it’s just a place to close my eyes, nothing more. He is no one to me. I climb in and lay my head down on the super-soft pillow, trying not to groan when my tired body relaxes in. The sheets are as silky and luxurious as they looked from the outside.
The flick of a belt and the distinct swoosh of pants dropping hits my ears. Oh, dear God, he’s getting unchanged with me right here in his room. My heart kicks up a beat, even though I will it not to.
Don’t look, Dove, I chant to myself.
Then the bed dips beside me and he pulls the covers up around both of us. I keep my eyes firmly closed and turn away from him. He might have stolen a kiss from me tonight, but that’s all he will ever get. “If you don’t give me what I want, I have ways to take it.”
I flick my angry glare at him. “What does that mean?”
“In the morning when you’re feeling more agreeable, you’re going to tell me the story of what Miss Dove Dawson has been up to these past ten years. All of it. Not missing any details.”
Asshole. “I hate you,” I whisper loud enough so he can hear me. I need him to know it. Then I turn away from him and stare out the window, watching the salt air lick the glass. That’s where he’s wrong; tomorrow I’m out of here. And none of the boys I grew up with will know my reality or just what I had to endure to survive.
Chapter 9
Kasen
Sometimes you have to take matters into your own hands. I check my phone one last time. ‘ACCESS DENIED: LEVEL RESTRICTED’ flashes over the screen in red neon. Irritation seeps its way into my bones.
She won’t give me answers. I spent all day yesterday trying to get them out of her, but she shut up tight, refusing to eat or talk to any of us all damn day. Eventually I was so worried about her, I had to give in and have my cook make her dinner. She’s already so thin, I couldn’t risk her silent protest a second longer. I don’t understand why she’s being so difficult. Can’t she see we just want to help her?
Bodhi pulls into the parking lot of a two-story apartment building that’s so run-down I wouldn’t send my worst enemies to live here. Paint melts off the walls it’s so worn, and there is a distinct stench of piss hanging in the air.
Bodhi motions to the top of the building. “Her place is on the second floor.”
We get out of his Ute and take the stairs. While I was interrogating her yesterday, Bodhi was busy with our back-up plan. A reverse image search of her face pulled up a profile of a girl too close to her for us not to investigate. He asked around with a few local contacts, checked outsome surveillance, and the next thing you know, we had an address for her. Bodhi is handy like that.
Bodhi stills in the doorway before pushing the partly ajar door wide open. He motions to the broken security camera above the door, an assessing brow raised. “She was living in this shithole?” He shakes his head. It’s hard to tell if he’s disappointed or just plain disgusted for the poor girl. He can act like he doesn’t care about Dove all he wants, but his tense body language as he walks into her dingy apartment says it all.
“Doubt it. My bet is someone beat us to it.” Her tiny apartment in Breakers Point is trashed. Clothes tumbling out of drawers, some just outright turned upside down, the contents emptied onto the stained carpeted floor. The small laminate kitchen is much the same, with broken plates and cutlery littering the floor and counter.
I pick up a photo of her and her dad. It appears to be from just a few years ago, an older version of Dove, but this one resembles the girl I knew better, long blonde hair and less-gaunt face. Her eyes still have some of their sparkle. I remember her dad. He didn’t think much of us boys, too much trouble for his perfect princess. Dove wasn’t supposed to hang with us, but she was always rebellious and found a way whenever she could. It’s been smashed, as if someone stood on it, the glass all in shards. There are no other photos, no sign of a boyfriend or any friends either. Just a shitty little apartment with very few cheap-looking belongings. It makes me feel sick to think she was living like this. Sick because this is all on me.
“Looks like she left in a rush,” Bodhi observes. He’s been quiet since we got here, investigating the room like a detective searching for clues. If there is something to find in this space, he will find it.
“Get together what you can. We can take it home for her.” I toss the sports bag we brought with us down on her single bed.
Yeah, I should feel guilty about invading her privacy when she clearly doesn’t want me to know anything about her life, but I don’t. If she won’t tell me what I want to know, I will get the information by any means necessary. For her safety, of course. The video surveillance from The Beach Bar didn’t give us anything to go off. The dude who snuck that note in her pocket is some kind of ninja, and I wasn’t pacing my room listening to the soft sound of her sleeping for a second day. So, this morning while she was curled up in my bed still fast asleep, I left River in charge while Bohdi and I took a trip to her old hometown.
Breakers Point is three hours south of Deadwater Bay, far enough that I haven’t had a run-in with the Southern Breakers before this, but close enough for a day trip. The two of us make quick work of sifting through the rubble and finding anything worth keeping. “A uniform?” I throw the flimsy black dress toward Bodhi for him to inspect.
“The Silver Room.” He reads the logo embroidered across the chest then types something into his phone. “It’s a local gentlemen’s club. Our birdie isn’t so innocent if she’s working a job like this. Topless waitresses, strippers, it’s got the lot. You reckon the Southern Breakers own this club, and that’s what he meant when he said she worked for him?”
A homicidal impulse washes over me at the thought. She better not have been shaking her tits and ass for cash, I’ll have to burn the club to the ground with every patron inside it. “Maybe,” I growl out. I knew she was hiding something, a lot of somethings, I could see it in her eyes, the guilt and embarrassment she wouldn’t share with me. I should have tried harder to find her. Should have spared no expenses in tracking her down. But every time we looked into her disappearance, we came up empty. Bodhi can usually track anyone down, it’s his specialty, but it was like she and her dad simply didn’t exist anymore.Like they had help to keep them hidden. And if our suspicions are correct, they went to great lengths to stay hidden, including having both their names changed.
“She could have just worked behind the bar, the uniform’s the same.” He shoves an image in my face from their website. It’s a couple of busty girls in skintight dresses serving drinks, with massive grins like they enjoy their job. If they are working for the lowlifes I met, I doubt it.
I shove his phone away, not wanting to picture my birdie working in a shithole like that. Moving through the room, I search for anything that will give me insight into what she’s been up to. What brought her home, malnourished and battered? I need something to go off, someone to blame. That’s not me.
“Oh shit, bro.” Bodhi chuckles. “She’s definitely not a virgin anymore, if that’s what you were hoping.”
