Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Quinn
Alack of information is a debilitating thing. These men seem to have the answers to questions I haven’t even thought to ask, and that’s the only reason I’m now seated on a tiny boat as we bounce over waves. The rain forms needles that jab my skin, and I rub my arms to chase away the sting.
Ultimately, the money got me here. Jim offered to pay a hefty bonus for my cooperation. That—on top of the money I’ll make once they catch the asshole—almost made this impossible to pass up.
Though, hearing that my stalker is actually at my doorstep certainly assisted my decision. A touch.
Jim notices the way I’m rubbing my arms, and he begins pulling off his suit jacket. He spares Aven a scolding glance before dropping the silk-lined garment over my shoulders. Aven looks out at the ocean and pulls his black leather jacket a little tighter against his chest.
“Isn’t the abandoned amusement park out this way?” I yell over the buzz of the small boat’s engine.
Jim nods and looks out at the ocean. “She isn’t so abandoned anymore! I bought the whole lot and fixed her up! Wait till you see her!”
Despite my fucked-up circumstances, a thread of excitement winds through me.
My mother brought me to Laughter Park several times when I was little.
She saved for an entire year just to afford a birthday trip for her girl that final night.
She disappeared during the fireworks show, almost as if she meant to leave me with one good memory before my world was ripped apart.
It worked. I can’t think of that last day without smiling a little.
Almost as if it were orchestrated, the bright lights of the Ferris wheel twinkle to life in the distance.
Like colorful diamonds, the bulbs glisten through the rain and never-ending darkness.
More lights come into view as we draw closer, but instead of heading toward the bright twinkles and strobes, the boat’s driver—a bald guy with a thick mustache and an equally thick Texas accent—turns the bow toward a darker area off to the right side of the island.
We eventually pull up to a low-lit dock that must serve as the service entrance.
The bald man hurries to hop off the boat and tie it to the dock before the wake can rock us backward again. Unfortunately, he miscalculates pretty seriously and ends up slipping between the boat and the narrow pier. He lands in the waves with a shout.
“Well, that won’t do,” Jim says as he jumps to his feet. “Aven, can he swim?”
Aven spares the floundering man a glance. “Today is a good day to learn if not.”
My eyes widen, and I dare to look into the water. I’m relieved when I see the man’s mustache bobbing closer to the ladder. He isn’t a very strong swimmer, but at least he isn’t drowning. I’m not sure how I’d explain that trauma dump to my therapist.
Oh, some strange men showed up to save me from a stalker, and then their friend drowned because he missed the dock, so now I need to up my meds, thanks.
With a groan, Aven gets to his feet to tie down the boat before we drift away. He strolls to the ignition, sets it in gear, and eases the nose forward until it kisses the dock. When he goes to jump onto the dock, he does so with the grace of a gazelle, unlike his wet friend.
“You’ll have to excuse Ice P—” Jim gestures to the soggy creature now pulling himself up the ladder and onto the dock, but a crashing wave muffles the end of the man’s name. “He gets a bit overzealous around pretty ladies.”
I don’t have a chance to respond because Jim exits the boat, leaving me alone with my bags. Aven doesn’t even offer a hand. Instead, he follows Jim up the dock and toward a set of iron gates at the end.
“I guess they don’t need to be chivalrous so long as they keep me safe,” I mutter to myself.
The wet man—Ice Pack?—approaches the side of the boat and offers to help me, but visions of my bags falling into the ocean have me shaking my head.
I’d rather make three trips than be on the six o’clock news for causing mass sea turtle deaths when they choke to death on my monster dildos and various vibrators.
It was my one sticking point before agreeing to their plan.
I have to continue working. When I was sitting in that little guest room, the massive loss of income was all I could think about.
If I can’t stream, I’ll lose my subscribers.
It took years to gain a foothold in a world where pretty girls are a dime a dozen.
My gimmicks—reading from my favorite smutty novels or dancing to classic rock songs—draw them in.
What I’m willing to do in private sessions keeps them coming back.
It may not be what I always wanted to do, but it’s what I’m good at.
I’ve worked too hard to lose it all now.
“You’d best get a move on before the storm moves further in,” Ice Pack says. “Just hand those bags to me, and I’ll handle getting them to your room.”
“I can manage,” I say with a smile. And I can. I think.
I spend a few seconds figuring out how to Tetris all my things, but it’s impossible.
I have way too much shit. Finally, I relent and allow Ice Pack to take my suitcase filled with everyday clothes.
Losing my work outfits, toys, and equipment isn’t an option.
I only breathe easy once he has it on the dock and at least five feet from the edge.
Once I haul my other bags onto the dock, we join Jim and Aven near the iron gate, which begins to open as we approach.
A loud buzzer shrills as the towering bars ease away, and I note the barbed wire running along the fence that borders the property back here.
Makes sense, I suppose. It’s a long boat ride from shore, so it’s not likely someone would come out this far to snoop, but they can’t take the risk of someone sneaking into restricted areas.
Still . . . it reminds me more of a prison than an amusement park.
But as we step further into the gates, my mood begins to change.
A ukulele song glides through speakers hidden somewhere in the tropical foliage.
The distant scent of funnel cake and roasting meat reaches my nose.
My stomach grumbles and tries to touch my back.
I haven’t eaten anything since breakfast, and deep-fried dough is kind of my weakness.
“Are the food booths open?” I ask. My little legs struggle to keep up with the men and their long strides, but I do my best. It doesn’t help that I have to keep stopping to situate the luggage. “If not, does the hotel have room service at night?”
Jim glances over his shoulder with a smile and a nod. “The food booths had a practice run today, but they’re closed for the evening. Our chef will take care of you when you reach your room.”
He doesn’t seem bothered by the fact that I’m fighting for my life with these bags. I guess his chivalrous streak ended with offering his coat. Now that garment feels like a burden more than a benefit. I’m sweating. Heavily.
I’m seeing Aven in a new light as well. That brooding masculinity looks more like the cold shoulder now. All those half-baked daydreams of falling in love and being swept off my feet splinter and disintegrate in front of me. He isn’t protecting me because he has a thing for me. I’m a job.
It’s no different from the men who think they’re falling in love with me. What I do sort of lends to the fantasy, and what he does is similar. Men get off on ass and tits, but most women get off on the idea of being protected. There’s something so hot about it.
Another set of iron gates looms ahead, situated between two massive gray buildings that look like airplane hangars.
As we draw near, the alarm buzzes again as the gates separate.
We pass through a security checkpoint, then step onto a garden path lit by small lights built into the curb.
After a few twists and turns through more tropical foliage, the path opens up and we step onto a wide thoroughfare lined with shops on either side.
The group stops, and Jim points out some of the changes he made.
We’re in the section of the park that used to be themed to dinosaurs a la Temu Jurassic Park, but the gaudy statues have been ripped down and replaced with ornate, weathered fountains and elegant statuary.
The area has a Polynesian vibe, and I kind of dig it.
It beats the hell out of a T-Rex with splotchy paint and holes where its front arms should have been.
“It’s very different,” I say as I take it all in. “Did you make changes to most of the park?”
Jim clasps his hands behind his back, beaming as he rocks on his heels.
“Oh, yes, yes. Many changes. Spared no expense! If you’ve been here before, I dare say you won’t recognize most of it.
A few of the rides are the same, like the carousel near Center Street and one of the coasters.
I didn’t alter the gondolas either, but . . . yes, it’s a bit different.”
Aven gives him a look and starts walking again.
Without offering to help, I might add. At least Jim has the decency to let me stop for a breather.
I’m all for being a strong woman, but if we have much further to walk, I’m not going to make it while lugging this shit around.
Jim seems to realize this, and he must not want to bother with carrying any of it either, because he pulls a walkie from his belt and radios for help.
Seconds later, a golf cart wheels around the corner.
Seated in the driver’s seat is a squat little man with protruding eyes, thinning hair, and a dent in the side of his skull. He wears a bright yellow shirt and a jovial smile that raises his chipmunk cheeks. The cart comes to a stop beside us, and he hops out quick as a flash to grab my things.
“Gary, you’ll take her to the resort by way of Dead Man’s Cove,” Jim says.
He turns to say something to Aven, but he’s already halfway down the strip of shops.
He shouts for him, but Aven just keeps walking.
Flustered, Jim turns back to Gary. “Take her to the resort. Aven will meet you to take her from there.”
The little man nods, then motions for me to join him in the cart.
“I could ride back with her,” Ice Pack offers. “I don’t mind if I miss the dinner. I’ve already seen the rehearsal for the show.”
“Oh, no, of course not.” Jim wraps his arm around Ice Pack’s broad shoulders and starts walking away. “She’ll be just fine with . . .”
Their voices fade as they draw further down the street, the two of them headed toward a brightly lit circus tent in the distance.
“Guess that just leaves us,” the little man says with a laugh.
I guess it does. So I hop into the golf cart and let yet another strange man lead me further into madness. I can only hope this growing feeling of dread can be cured with a good meal and some sleep. Something feels off about this place, and I don’t think I want to find out why.