27 - Monty
27
Monty
—
The grandfather clock chimes with a solemn cadence, marking the passage of time in the den. It’s been two months since Kody became the owner of Tipsy Sailor, with my backing as a silent partner.
Two months of progress on so many things. Except the one thing I want.
My wife.
I sit in a leather armchair, its creases worn from years of use. The room smells of wood polish, expensive bourbon, and testosterone-fueled distrust.
Across from me, Dr. Doyle Whitaker lounges with pedantic confidence, his pen poised over a notebook, his eyes scanning me with a practiced clinical detachment.
Ten minutes into our session and my head pounds like a motherfucking bitch.
“If you’re not going to talk,” he says, “why am I here?”
Therapy is a charade, a waste of time. Frankie thinks it will help, but I know better. This man, with his calculated concern, cannot be trusted.
I meet his gaze with steely silence, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response.
He shifts in his seat, undeterred by my hostility. “It’s been over two months since Kody and Leo moved to the island. That’s a significant change. How are you adjusting to their presence?”
Adjusting . The word feels grossly inadequate. My life has been in raging, sucking turmoil since their arrival.
Every day, my beautiful wife slips further from my grasp. Kody and Leo, with their feral energy and constant hovering, complicate everything.
She’s never alone. Never without one or both of them breathing down her neck.
They leave no room for me, no angle to make a move.
“I don’t need to adjust.” I interlock my fingers in the space between my knees. “This is my island. They adjust to me.”
He nods, jotting down notes. “You mentioned before that you don’t trust easily. Let’s explore that. Why do you find it difficult to trust those around you, including Frankie?”
A snarl rises in my throat, but I swallow it down.
She’s the only one I trust. She needs someone strong, someone who can protect her from the world. That someone is me.
“Trust is earned,” I say flatly. “Most people haven’t earned it.”
“What about your parents?” His pen scratches across the paper, an irritating sound that grates on my nerves. “Losing them must’ve been difficult. Do you think their death affected your ability to trust?”
“Digging up the past won’t change anything. They’re dead, and I have no interest in bringing them back.”
“It’s not about bringing them back. It’s about understanding how their loss shaped you. Sometimes acknowledging our pain is the first step toward healing.”
“You think I need to heal?” I laugh, and it sounds bitter and harsh. “What I need is for you to stop lusting after my wife.”
He loosens a steady breath, unfazed. “You seem very protective of Frankie. Can you tell me why?”
My fists clench, nails digging into my palms. Protective doesn’t even begin to cover it.
She’s mine. My wife, my soul, my reason for existing. The thought of her with anyone else, of her being harmed, ignites an inferno in my veins.
Leo and Kody are a whole other complication. They have their driver’s licenses now and are free to use my boats and cars. A freedom that both pleases and infuriates me.
It means they can take her places and give her experiences outside the confines of this island. It also means I can’t keep her under constant surveillance. The thought alone drives me to the brink of madness.
Worse, they prefer to take her crappy little cruiser which could break down at any moment and leave them stranded in the Sitka Sound.
They’re in Sitka now. She goes there every day. Not to work at the hospital—we can’t leave her unguarded. When Leo attends flight school in town, she accompanies Kody to the distillery.
Tipsy Sailor is temporarily closed for renovations. When it reopens, it will be under a new name and ownership.
I picture her standing among the scattered tools, dust-covered floors, and half-finished walls, her eyes sparkling with pride as she watches Kody work tirelessly toward realizing his dream.
After everything he and Leo have been through, they deserve happiness, but I can’t shake the fear that it will come at the cost of her safety.
With Leo in school and Kody focused on renovations, I have two guards trailing her at all times.
I can’t be there every day. I have a goddamn company to oversee despite being woefully absent from it lately. She won’t stay on the island with me alone, and in their need for independence, they don’t want me tagging along.
Sometimes I go anyway.
But not today.
Today I’m stuck with Dr. Dipshit.
“She’s my wife,” I finally say. “It’s my job to protect her.”
“Protect her from what?” His eyes bore into mine. “From the world? Or from yourself?”
The question sours the air, a challenge I refuse to entertain. He thinks he can unravel me, dissect my mind, and lay bare my weaknesses.
He knows nothing.
“Did she tell you she has a stalker?” I tap my fingers on the armrest, steady and controlled.
“She mentioned that.”
“Did she mention that you’re a suspect?”
He tilts his head, considering the question. “No. She believes you are a suspect.”
“Sharing that with me is a breach of doctor-patient privilege.”
“Sharing something you already know? I don’t think so. Look, I understand you’re trying to keep her safe.” His gaze softens, a methodical move to appear empathetic. “But sometimes, our efforts to protect can become suffocating.”
His words strike a chord, but I bury the discomfort.
She needs me. Without my protection, she would be lost, vulnerable to the dangers that lurk around every corner.
He switches topics. “Let’s talk about your relationship with Leo and Kody. How are things between the three of you?”
The man is fucking relentless. It makes him good at his job, like a double-edged sword, cutting through problems and leaving wounds in his wake.
I might as well engage to see if there’s any merit to his methods. For Frankie.
“We’re trying to find a balance.” I glance out the window, the ocean a calming presence. “Between their independence and my need to mend my marriage.”
He knows better than to ask me outright if they’re fucking her. We’ve all been seeing him for two months. Well, all of us except Kody. But if Doyle has any intelligence in his pea-sized brain, he’s figured out who is fucking whom.
Leaning back, he taps his pen against the notebook. “Why are you fighting so hard for your marriage?”
“I love her,” I say simply.
“Love is a powerful motivator, but sometimes our jealousy can overshadow our love.”
The accusation is a spark in dry tinder, setting me ablaze.
He thinks he understands me, but he hasn’t even scratched the surface. My brother kidnapped and raped my wife. He raped Kaya, Kody, Leo, and my only son. He raped children, his own flesh and blood.
Fire crackles and roars beneath my skin, and adrenaline floods my circulation. I’m her protector, the alpha of this family, and I failed to defend what is mine.
My blood pounds in my ears. The thought of harm coming to her again fills me with feral rage, a burning need to destroy any threat, to rend flesh and break bone.
This is more than instinct. It’s in my brutal, sinister Strakh blood. The drive to protect her is as vital as the air I breathe. It courses through my veins, breeding a thirst that can never be quenched.
She may not trust me, but she relies on me. While I still draw breath, I will not fail her again.
“My love for her is not some petty jealousy.” I lean into the space between us. “It’s primal, clawing, and fucking ruthless. You get me?”
“It’s possessive and overbearing. That’s not good for either of you. Have you considered that your jealousy is rooted in fear? Fear of losing her?”
“That’s your fear, not mine.”
“What are you talking about?” His eyes widen, caught off guard.
“Don’t play dumb. I see the way you look at her. The way you touch her. How often do you jerk off to thoughts of my wife in your cold, empty bed at night?”
“My relationship with Frankie is strictly professional.”
“What’s your angle? To sow insidious seeds of doubt about our marriage, slowly tear us apart, then swoop in and fuck her?”
“This is not about me, and you’re already separated. I’m here to counsel you individually.”
“Stay away from her, Doyle.” My heart pounds. “Or you’ll find out just how far I’m willing to go to protect what’s mine.”
“Threats won’t solve anything.” He straightens, holding his ground. “You need to work through this, for your sake and Frankie’s.”
“We’re done here.” I rise to my feet. “I have better things to do than listen to your bullshit.”
“All right.” He stands as well, his expression resigned. “But remember, these sessions are for your benefit. I’ll be here if you need me. If you don’t want to talk to me, I can refer you to someone else.”
I turn away, facing the window, not bothering with a response or a farewell.
As his footsteps retreat down the hall, I listen for the security guard to escort him off the island. A moment later, Doyle steps onto the path outside, trailed by one of the guards toward the dock.
My thoughts turn to Frankie, Kody, and Leo. They’ve been in town for hours now. Sometimes they share dinner in a restaurant or stroll along the coast and don’t return until after dark.
Frankie has money saved, not enough to live on, but enough to eat out and fuel her cruiser. Her savings will run out before she returns to work. Will she come to me then? Let me support her in every way?
I can only hope.
The house feels empty without her. The echo of voices, the warmth of Frankie’s nearness, all missing. I find myself in the kitchen, staring at the untouched dinner that Oliver prepared for her. She should be here, not gallivanting around Sitka with Leo and Kody.
My phone buzzes, a call from Sirena.
“Yes?” I answer.
“Frankie and Kody are leaving the distillery, returning to the flight school to get Leo.”
“Reporters?”
“None.”
Our interviews aired last week, causing a commotion, but it has since died down. The vultures have moved on to more scandalizing stories.
“Dr. Whitaker is headed back to Sitka.” I stare out the kitchen window. “Keep an eye on him.”
“On it.”
“Any update on locating the cabin?”
“No.” Her soft sigh drifts through the connection. “My team has swept nearly twenty percent of those hills. There’s a lot of ground to cover. This would go faster if Leo or Kody joined them.”
I agree. They might recognize landmarks or something familiar. But they won’t leave Frankie, especially not to return to that cabin. I can’t blame them, but every day, our chances of recovering Wolfson’s body diminish.
“Keep searching.” I disconnect the call, my thoughts returning to Frankie.
The stalker remains unidentified. No messages or threats since the first one. I’m keeping Sirena out of that investigation. The only thing she knows beyond what we told the press is that I had a son in those hills. Everything else is on a need-to-know basis, and she doesn’t need to know about the depravity in my family.
Doyle’s words echo in my mind.
Our efforts to protect can become suffocating.
He doesn’t understand. No one does. Frankie is my world. I need to find a way to keep her safe without losing her.
And for that, I need to confront the darkness inside me.