Chapter 11
Josephine
A barely there mist coats my skin as I will my body not to shiver. I grind my teeth obstinately, refusing to show signs of weakness.
This is survival mode. A setting I know all too well.
I’m on a boat. Against my will.
I dig my fingernails into the dense, spongy material of the life vest. I feel ridiculous with it strapped across my chest over the thin tank top I wear to bed.
But with the way Kendrick shoved my arms into it, I get the impression that it isn’t optional.
After he carried me caveman style to the car, I wouldn’t put it past him to hold me down and force me into the safety device if I tried to fight him.
The vessel isn’t as large as the ferry boats that cart people from the marina to the isle, but it’s big enough that all five of us fit comfortably on it.
Not that there’s anything comfortable about this situation.
Decker parked his G-Wagon in the lot where Hunter and I parked last weekend. Then they marched me down the same dock I willingly walked along last Saturday. When Decker said home, he meant his home.
But why?
Why did these assholes wake me in the middle of the night and physically remove me from my room? Why did I let myself be taken? Most importantly: why the fuck did I ever think getting involved with the likes of Nicholas Lockewood was a good idea?
I glare at him across the boat. He’s seated next to Kylian on a cushy vinyl bench identical to the one I’m sitting on. Apparently, my glare isn’t as threatening as I intend, because he reads it as an invitation.
He crosses the watercraft and approaches me. His steps are tentative, whether because of the speed and swaying of the boat or because of the daggers I’m shooting him, I don’t know.
“You have to be freezing,” he murmurs, propping on the edge of the bench beside me. “Here.” He pulls off his Lake Chapel U hoodie and holds it out to me.
“Fuck. Off. Lockewood,” I snarl.
He recoils like I’ve struck him. Good.
But instead of retreating like I hoped, he doubles down.
“This doesn’t have to be the end of the world, Joey. If you don’t act like a victim—”
“Fuck off!” I screech, my voice shrill and desperate.
All eyes snap to me.
They don’t want me to play the victim? Maybe they shouldn’t have forcibly removed me from my bed. They don’t get to be the bad guys, then insist what they did wasn’t that bad. I won’t be gaslit by Nicholas Lockewood or any of these other entitled assholes.
Victim. I hate that fucking word.
I swore to myself I’d never be a victim again. So I won’t. But they don’t know that yet.
Shuddering from the chill, I close my eyes and rest my cheek on the side of the overstuffed armchair. I curl my arms around my legs, thankful now that I was too tired to change out of my leggings and into my usual sleep shorts after work.
I’ve been in here for what feels like hours. Not that I actually know how much time has passed since I don’t have my phone. Though I’m pretty sure Kylian was fiddling with it when they escorted me inside.
I gave up physically fighting them when I got off the boat and almost face-planted on the dock outside Decker’s house.
I’m desperate to get away, but I’m not suicidal.
Now that I’m here, I have to be smart. The only way off this hellish isle is by boat, according to what Hunter implied last weekend. But there’s a dense, woodsy swamp behind the house that must lead somewhere.
I sneer at the memory of the last time I was in this place. Was it really just a week ago? When I willingly—excitedly, even—showed up, hooked up with Locke in the pantry, and rolled my eyes at Decker’s overbearing antics?
I underestimated him, that’s for damn sure.
A soft knock on the door has me scrambling to sit up. I won’t let them catch me lying down, feeling sorry for myself. I refuse to let them see me as a victim, as Locke so eloquently put it.
Kylian steps inside first, focus glued to the device in his hand, per usual. The light reflects in the lenses of his glasses, making his eyes glow a Caribbean blue that momentarily mesmerizes me.
I shake myself out of it when Decker follows. He stalks into the room like he owns the place. Which I guess he does.
Sitting up straighter, I catalog his every move. As much as I hate his stupid face, I can’t deny that he has this presence about him. He commands attention. Awareness dances up my spine when he’s near, and even when I fight against the urge, I can’t seem to look away.
That’s how it is between predators and prey, isn’t it? I’m transfixed. Watching his every move. Waiting for him to strike.
Kendrick saunters in behind them, his signature bored expression firmly in place. I’ve yet to see him look anything but unamused.
Locke is last. His face is screwed up in distress like he’s going to be physically ill. And again, he’s making a point to look everywhere but at me.
That’s all I need to know about what’s about to happen.
“What’s the plan, big guy?” I rise to my feet and crack my knuckles, then roll my neck a few times. Preparing for battle but feigning a casual demeanor, like I haven’t a care in the world.
“What you saw—” Decker starts.
“I didn’t see shit,” I seethe. Hands bunched into fists, I push down the urge to charge and shove him in his stupid broad chest.
So much for keeping my cool.
“What you saw,” Decker repeats sternly. He pauses and scrutinizes me. Probably gauging whether I’m going to interrupt him again.
When I cross my arms under my chest and glare, he continues.
“Could affect a lot of people in a lot of ways. And that’s a big fucking problem.”
My chest squeezes at the implication, but then I scoff.
“Nobody gives a shit if you like to get facials or chemical peels,” I counter, looking from Kendrick to Locke, then finally back to Decker. Truth be told, I have no idea what services the guys were in for. I’ve worked at Lake Chapel Radiance for less than a week.
“Is that what this is about?” I throw out my arms in a display that I’m sure comes off as childish.
“I’m a spa assistant, asshole, and I’ve worked there for all of four days!
I don’t even know the scope of what they offer yet, and I have no idea what sort of procedure or treatment they were there for. ”
Decker examines me coolly, and Kylian looks up from his device. When no one says anything, I continue my defense.
“I was in the middle of my shift when I spotted Locke.” I omit the part where I idiotically thought he’d shown up to see me. I drag my gaze to him and add, “I thought I saw a friend.”
A thick fog of awkwardness passes between us. Awkwardness mixed with agony on his part. But I refuse to read too much into his emotional state. He’s done literally nothing to help me tonight. I don’t owe him shit.
“I called out to them,” I jut my chin toward the two men, “then I followed them out the back door to the parking lot. I stupidly thought maybe they didn’t hear me. I just wanted to say hi. I saw nothing. I know nothing. Just because I work at—”
“Worked.”
My eyes flick up to Decker’s. “Excuse me?”
“You worked at Lake Chapel Radiance. You don’t work there anymore, Josephine.”
Bile rises up my throat again, but I choke it down. I can’t fall apart. Not yet. My uncle said Decker Crusade is a local celebrity. A known figure around town. I have no doubt that if he wanted me fired, the med spa would do so without hesitation.
I’m powerless in this moment. Powerless and going numb around the edges. Blinking, I suck in a steadying breath. I can’t succumb to the hopelessness threatening to consume me. I refuse to go down without a fight.
“You can’t tell me what I can and cannot do.”
A cruel smile teases the corner of his lush lips.
“Oh, but I can. I protect what’s mine. And as of tonight, you’re a liability. I don’t believe a word you’ve said, Josephine Meyer.” He spits out my name like it’s a curse. “You’re not as innocent or unaware as you’d like us to believe. So here’s what’s going to happen.”
He takes a step forward, and I instinctively shuffle back until my calves brush against the chair behind me.
His next words come out soft and melodic, like he’s whispering sweet nothings in my ear.
“You’ll stay here, with us, for the foreseeable future.
You’ll be accompanied to class, and you’ll come to our games.
You don’t leave this isle without an escort.
You don’t tell a soul about what you saw.
You don’t so much as move a muscle without running it past one of us.
You’ll resign from your job. You’ll make up excuses your uncle will believe. And you’ll do exactly as I say.”
His tone leaves no room for argument. Hot, indignant tears press behind my eyes without my permission. But I fight against them—will my body to reabsorb them—as I step forward to stand toe-to-toe with this despicable man.
“I have to work,” I hiss.
I don’t know why, out of all the bullshit that just spewed from his mouth, that’s the point I cling to. But I won’t backtrack or back down now.
His lip quivers into a hint of a smirk. “Then you can work for me.”
Outrage swirls inside me as my coping mechanisms battle for dominance. The numbness continues to spread, yet I can’t stop now. I haven’t survived the last handful of years, haven’t made it this far, to go down without a fight.
“You can’t keep me here. That’s essentially kidnapping. I’ll call the police.”
A chortle sounds behind Decker. “Tell my father hello when you call in to the station,” Kendrick says smoothly. “And that I’ll get with him after the game tomorrow.”
“Your father is a police officer?” Of course he is.
I peer around Decker’s huge body to glare at the three stooges who have been all but silent throughout this exchange.
Kylian is fixated on the screen of his iPad—surprise, surprise.
Locke is focused on his feet. But Kendrick is staring right back at me, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.
He’s more animated right now than I’ve ever seen him.
“My pops is the police. He’s the sheriff.” Then he adds, “And my uncle’s the county commissioner.”
I close my eyes, mentally scrambling for a way out of this. I know better than to try and reason with them. My pride won’t allow me to beg.
Shit on a crumbly cracker.
Opening my eyes and exhaling, I regroup. Surely my uncle will be able to help me. Except he’s out of town, and the guys somehow knew that when they showed up tonight. Sam has made it clear from the beginning that I’m allowed to come and go as I please and that he’s not there to keep track of me.
There’s Hunter, but she’s only known me for a week. There’s no way I’ll involve her in this. Or ask her to put her neck on the line for me.
I don’t have anyone else. I don’t know anyone else here.
Every part of me hates the idea of relenting to Decker’s demands.
My survival instincts are screaming run.
But I have nowhere to go. I don’t even know how to get off this damn isle unless it’s on one of their boats.
Maybe that’s an option. Or maybe I could swim for it?
Either way, that isn’t going to happen right now.
I need to know what I’m up against. And I need time and information to gain that knowledge and formulate a plan.
So I close my eyes and ask, my question coming out whisper-thin.
“How long?”
Silence follows.
And it just keeps going. The tension in the room is sharp, crackling with every inhalation. Finally, when I open my eyes, I’m met with Decker’s most pointed look yet.
He stares down his nose at me, pupils blown out and indistinguishable against the dark onyx color of his irises. Blinking, he gives a subtle shake of his head, as if snapping himself out of some sort of reverie.
Finally, he smiles. It’s not a cruel smile, but it’s smug and full of self-righteousness.
He thinks he’s won, but the games haven’t even begun.
“Until the end of the season.”
Confusion has me searching the guys in the room. But then the meaning of his announcement strikes me. He means football season. Because, apparently, the world revolves around Decker Crusade and football.
“Then, if you’ve proven to be trustworthy and we haven’t had any issues, we’ll revisit our arrangement.”
Our arrangement.
As if he asked my consent or gave me any semblance of choice. It’s the word choice that does it. Without conscious thought, I’m mouthing off again.
“Fuck you, Crusade. I may not be able to fight you right now, but I refuse to lie down like a doormat and let you walk all over me. I’ll make every moment of cohabitation as hellish as possible. You’ll rue the day you kidnapped me and forced me onto your stupid island.”
Decker rolls his lips and arches one eyebrow. “Rue the day?”
He’s teasing me. After all this, he has the fucking audacity—
“It’s an isle,” Kylian murmurs without looking up from the device in his hand. As if he can’t resist correcting me.
But his little correction is just the reminder I need. This glorified prison is an isle. It’s not completely surrounded by water, just mostly. And that means there has to be another way out of here.
I made a promise to Alice.
The reminder of how far I’ve come, along with the tiny taste of freedom I’ve experienced over the last month, is all it takes for the pressure to build up behind my eyes again. This time, it’s so intense I worry that if I blink, the tears will flow.
I push past Decker, ignoring the other men behind him, and beeline for the door. No one moves to stop me, which makes me feel even more pathetic and weak.
They know they’ve got me. I’m trapped. Backed into a corner. Stuck on this godforsaken isle.
Storming into the hall, I squint against the intense sunlight streaming in from the floor-to-ceiling windows.
I know my way around well enough from the party, and I’m sure I’ll have plenty of time to explore in the coming days.
Hell, the coming weeks if Decker gets his way.
But I can’t stop moving right now. I need air. I need space. I need to be alone.
I rip open one of the sliding glass doors, letting it ricochet on its rubber runner, not bothering to shut it behind me.
Still fighting back the tears, I jog down the stairs of the deck and over the perfectly manicured yard toward the lakeshore.
When my feet hit the sand, I push harder, forcing myself into a sprint that lights my calves on fire and sends a pang of awareness up through my right hip.
But I don’t stop or falter. I keep going—keep pushing—until my feet hit the landing that juts out into a dock.
Once I reach the end of it, the farthest physical point from Decker and his merry band of assholes, I collapse.
My knees hit the wooden planks. My head drops into my hands. And finally, mercifully, I let the sob that’s been threatening to rip through me for the last several hours break free.