I take a jerky step forward, the knot in my stomach twisting so violently it’s ripping me in half, and when I reach the island, I inhale deeply, trying to maintain control.
“Oh, this?” He holds up an old-looking watch connected to a gold chain that dangles to the counter. “I found it at a pawnshop and just had to get it.” He smooths his thumb over the face. “I know it’s a little loud, but…”
My vision blurs from how difficult it is to keep from smashing every bone in his hand just to stop that incessant noise.
“Are you okay, boss?”
“Please,” I grind out through my teeth. “Get that thing out of my home.”
“I—”
My hand swipes out, smashing into his mug, the contents sloshing on the counter, the porcelain shattering against the wood floor. “I said get. It. Out.”
His eyes widen, his body jerking back. “Okay.” He races to the deck, running to the side, and throwing it out to sea.
Closing my eyes, I focus on the beautiful silence, taking deep breaths as the red haze recedes, allowing me to regain control.
Smee walks back in, his eyes darting from me to the shattered contents on the floor.
I crack my neck, exhaling a heavy sigh. “Do not ever bring a clock on this yacht again. Do you understand?”
He swallows and nods.
I turn, walking out the door and shaking off the remnants of my rage, feeling the control slot back in place one by one.
The first thing I do is call an emergency meeting with the boys at The Lagoon—the strip club on the outskirts of town. I don’t make much of an appearance there, but I need a temporary space, and this is the one with the best office.
The next thing I do is call Moira and tell her to meet me here. I should have talked to her immediately or had one of the boys keep her company until I could get away, but I was too wrapped up in Wendy and my conflicting emotions to think clearly. An oversight, to be sure.
But now that I know she’s locked in my bedroom, I can breathe easier, allowing my focus to shift.
Thirty minutes after the boys have their marching orders, Moira saunters into the office, her eyes gleaming and her lips painted that garish red.
“Hook,” she purrs. “It’s been a while.”
“I’ve been busy.”
She starts to walk around the desk, but I put a hand up to stop her. “You’re not here for that.”
Her lips turn down, brows furrowing. “Oh.”
“Tell me what happened last night.” I steeple my fingers in front of my lips.
She sighs, running a hand through her hair as she sits in the chair across the desk. “I already told Starkey everything I knew, Hook.”
I smile, my patience running thin. “Tell it again.”
“I don’t know, okay?” she bursts out, her arms shooting to the sides. “Everything was fine, and then it was like… boom!” She claps her hands together. “Explosion or something. To be honest, I was so worried about making sure everyone got out, I didn’t think much of whatever else was going on.”
My fingers scratch against my stubble. “Okay.”
She smiles. “Okay.”
I point to her. “Stay right there and don’t speak.”
Her forehead scrunches, but she does as I say. And at least at first, she’s quiet, allowing me to click through business expenses of The Lagoon. I don’t necessarily need to, but I do need to pass the time, and while in the past I may have been interested in using Moira’s body to do so, I find that the idea repulses me now.
She sighs loudly, smacking her hands on her thighs. “Are we gonna do anything or not, Hook? This is boring.”
My eyes snap to hers. “I said don’t speak.”
She stands up and saunters over. “I could think of something else I could do.”
I watch her move toward me, irritation flaring in my chest. She drops to her knees, her red fingernails sliding up my thighs until she palms my cock, wrapping her fingers around the length through the fabric. I bat her hand away and grip her chin, pulling harshly until her face is level with mine. “Did I tell you to touch me?”
She attempts to shake her head.
The back of my free hand runs down the side of her cheek. “Don’t you wish to please me?”
She nods. “Yes.”
I lean in, my nose brushing hers. “Then sit down and stay quiet. Your mouth is of no use to me anymore.”
Her eyes shutter as I drop her face, her body stumbling back as she rubs at her jaw and walks to the chair, crossing her arms and staring at the ground.
Over the course of the next hour, we sit in silence. I occasionally call for random employees to come to the back, for no other reason than to make sure they see me here, with Moira, at this exact moment.
But this time, when someone knocks, it’s who I’ve been waiting on.
“Come in,” I say, relief bleeding through my chest as the twins appear. “It’s done?”
They nod, glancing to Moira.
I lean back in the chair, satisfaction dancing through my insides.
See, what Peter doesn’t understand is that while he has the money and the social standing, I have the loyalty. And loyalty is bred from respect. You take care of people, and they’ll take care of you. And if there’s one thing Ru and I have done in this town, it’s take care of our people.
Bloomsburg, Massachusetts, isn’t like anywhere else in the world, and its inhabitants don’t take too kindly to new blood coming in and their town going up in flames.
As it happens, the security guard at the new NevAirLand airstrip is a personal friend. His child had a terrible bout with cancer a few years back, and Ru paid for her chemotherapy, and every doctor’s visit since.
He’ll have to disappear, of course, after looping the security feed and allowing my boys inside to light every single plane on fire. But people are willing to do anything for those they love, and he knows his wife and children will be taken care of—protected by The Lost Boys until their last breath.
True love sometimes requires sacrifice.
Something Peter clearly knows nothing about.
I look to Moira, a grin spreading across my face. “You may leave now.”
She stands, her chin red from where I gripped it, and turns to leave without a word.
“Moira,” I say. She pauses at the door. “Feel free to tell people I gave you a nice ride today. Wouldn’t want to sully your reputation, after all.”
She scoffs, slamming the door behind her, and I grin, jumping to my feet, the sudden urge to head back to my boat making me giddy.
Right as I reach my car, my phone vibrates in my pocket, a single text on the screen.
Smee: Your girl is gone.
35
Wendy
Waking up, I stretch, my body popping from the deepest sleep I’ve had in a long time—even before I was thrown in the basement of the JR. I yawn, rubbing my eyes and gaining my bearings, and as I glance around, half of me expecting to see Hook sleeping peacefully by my side.
He isn’t, of course.
I’m all alone. I sit up in the bed, wondering what I’m supposed to do. I make my way to use the restroom, splashing water on my face, and using the toothbrush that was laid out for me yesterday before the gala.
It’s odd, waking up in luxury, and using the facilities here as if they’re mine. It confuses me; tilts my insides off axis, making it difficult for my brain to remember that I’m not actually free to do anything.