Chapter 6 Locke
six
Locke
Iwas exhausted. The promotional tour for Vigilante had just wrapped.
It had been red carpet events, back-to-back interviews and television appearances, and a whirlwind international tour typical of a blockbuster action movie.
The role was the most unique I’d performed.
Hank Hayes, my character, was a true antihero who had nothing to lose after the murder of his family.
He took vigilante justice to new heights.
His actions were swift, brutal, calculated, and without mercy as he avenged his wife’s and children’s deaths.
He wore all black, except for the glow mask that had Xs for eyes and a stitched mouth with a terrifying smile.
He tormented his targets, never giving them a hint of who he was until they were on the edge of death.
Vigilante wanted vengeance.
He was hell-bent on burning down the world to avenge the ones he loved. That kind of love—powerful, all consuming—was so rare in the world. Despite it being so dark, the movie was a celebration of that love.
The role had called to me, but it also took a toll.
Physically, I’d never been in better shape, but mentally, I was exhausted.
Method acting a tortured soul had been hard.
I’d needed some time out after filming the first two movies in the series back-to-back, but we’d followed them up with a packed promotion schedule.
But I was so grateful for the opportunities I’d been given.
I was determined to ride the train while I still had a seat on it.
I didn’t act for the fame or even the money—although that was a nice perk of making it in Hollywood—I did it because I loved the art.
Performing and creating were food for my soul.
The stunts and wild plots satisfied the adrenaline junkie in me.
But right now, I needed peace and quiet.
My executive assistant had suggested this resort, and it was perfect.
The island was moderately sized—it took a good two hours to circumnavigate the whole thing on foot—and it was exclusive.
Only a couple of dozen luxury bures dotted the island, each nestled on a private beach with pockets of rainforest and manicured lawns between.
I’d gone for a walk the evening I’d flown in, and after a restless night, I was now joining some new friends on a snorkeling trip.
I eyed my bed longingly, but I knew if I stayed, I wouldn’t sleep. If I did, it’d only make the jetlag worse. The sooner I adjusted to the change in time zone, the better.
Exercising was good for me. It helped silence the noise in my brain and unwind.
Hollywood was incredible, but it could also be poisonous.
Ask anyone in the industry, and they’d tell you that with the release of Vigilante, I’d solidified my position as the “next big action star.” Move over, Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson, Locke Ledger was the new “it” man.
But I was just me. I didn’t want to lose myself in the hype.
Becoming a conceited arsehole wouldn’t help to ensure career longevity, especially because I didn’t quite fit the mold for an action star.
I was an Aussie. That wasn’t unheard of in Hollywood, thanks to the likes of Hugh Jackman, Cate Blanchett, Chris Hemsworth, and all our predecessors.
But I was also bisexual. That was the complicating factor.
My agent had been at pains to warn me that my sexuality could affect my star power if I started dating the “wrong” person, aka a man.
But I needed to live authentically. It wasn’t the dream life if I was hiding.
Except that all the noise, the pressure, and the need to prove myself worthy of the hype was exhausting too.
These trips alone, where I could just switch off and enjoy the simple things, albeit in a luxury resort that catered to my every whim, were essential for me. With that in mind, I grasped my backpack, slipped on my sunnies, and let the door click closed after me.
The sand was soft under my slides as I walked to the golf buggy. The path I was on would lead me back to the jetty with the stately catamaran moored alongside it and the two guests who I still couldn’t believe were waiting for me.
I couldn’t explain it. There was something about Chris and Kamirah Minns that drew me in.
Chris was sweet and so adorably shy, a total contrast to his heavily tattooed body and those dark fuck-me eyes.
Kamirah was confident and took no shit. She was strong and forthright, two qualities I loved in a person.
It didn’t hurt that she was as easy on the eyes as her husband.
Her pale skin contrasted vividly against her fiery copper hair.
She was all curves with petite handfuls of breasts but wide hips and thick thighs.
She was gorgeous. I’d had to bite my tongue when she stood up.
Instantly, my mind filled with images of her legs wrapped around me, my hands gripping all that softness.
For an arse man like me, she ticked every one of my boxes. I had a type, and she was it.
Then again, her husband was just as hot. His hockey thighs and thick, muscular arse were utterly biteable.
I swallowed hard, willing my dick into submission. I couldn’t afford to get a hard-on that I needed to take care of. I’d be late to the jetty and miss out on my chance to spend the day with them.
I’d been on hiatus, not hooking up with anyone while I was filming. My character was tormented by his loss, his reaction to it violent. There was no way I could have stayed in his head if I’d been out partying on any given night.
I’d been celibate from the moment I’d started preparing for the role. All I had to do was make it a few more hours. Then I could jack off.
I wasn’t here to get laid anyway. Not that it was really a possibility with a married couple. I just needed to exercise some self-restraint so they weren’t uncomfortable with me.
***
I’d never seen anything like it. The sand was a brilliant white under the surface, the water crystal clear.
Sea grasses swayed in the lapping tide, and the coral were the most fantastic of colors.
They were brighter than I’d ever imagined.
The fish were too. In every color of the rainbow, they danced in and out of the protection of the reef.
From tiny fingernail-sized fish schooling in tight formations to larger ones twice the size of my palm, they were everywhere. The reef was teeming with life.
A large hand curled around my bicep, and I turned to where Chris was swimming next to me.
He pointed at a patch of empty sand a few meters away.
But then it moved, burying itself deeper and sending sand billowing into the gentle tide.
It was a stingray the size of a dinner plate. So. Freaking. Cool.
Eyes wide, I gave Chris a thumbs-up, grinning around the mouthpiece of my snorkel.
Then I watched the fish scatter as a larger one—maybe a trevally—swept in and chomped down on a smaller fish.
It was an adrenaline rush watching Mother Nature at work.
Predator and prey were in harmony. Nothing was hunted for sport.
There was no malice or revenge. The push and pull were yin and yang.
Kamirah joined us, treading water as we watched the fish slowly start peeking out from their hideaways.
It was fascinating how prey’s survival instinct worked.
The chase, the hide, the capture and kill of the unlucky, then the balancing of risk and reward—food versus becoming food—to repeat the cycle.
I didn’t ever want to surface. It was magical watching this world exist under the surface. But after we’d been out here for hours, the tide turned, and the sun began to dip lower in the sky. Wind picked up, and the guides called out to us so we could head back to the resort.
The trip back was fast—the catamaran flew along the water as I lay on the netting.
Exhaustion washed over me, the weight in my lids pulling them closed.
It was only a moment later that gentle hands shook me awake, and I blinked my eyes open to see Kamirah hovering above me.
She’d undone the braid she’d worn it in to go snorkeling, and the fiery red waves were wild against the deep blue of the sky.
She grinned and said saucily, “Told you that the net was the perfect place for a nap.”
“You did.” I chuckled and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. “Can’t believe I fell asleep.”
“You obviously needed it.”
I nodded. I really did.
“Are you coming to the cookout tonight?” Chris asked as he held out his hand to help me stand up. I grasped it, and he hefted me up effortlessly.
I shook my head, my eyes already heavy again. “I’m honestly wrecked. I’m going to go shower, then crash.”
“All right, then,” Chris said with a nod. He hovered as if he wanted to say more but then added, “Have a good night, man.”
“You too.” We crossed the deck and headed toward the gangplank. “Hey, thanks for today. I had a really great time. Appreciate you extending the invitation.”
“We did too. You’re welcome to come and chill with us anytime,” Kamirah answered, and Chris shot me a smile. We bumped fists, and I headed back to my room.
I let myself into the bure and immediately noticed the package that had been delivered this afternoon, just as I’d requested.
I didn’t need to open it to know what was inside.
My assistant would have put everything in that I’d asked for.
She was smart, efficient, and professional—absolute must-haves in my book.
She was also prepared to put up with my demanding arse, including taking my call at three in the morning. I appreciated her to no end.
The shower was exactly what I needed. So was the nap I took afterward.
But I didn’t sleep as long as I thought I would.
I was hungry. But not for food.
I wanted them.