Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Push
McKayla was quieter after Anchor laid it all out.
Not calm, and definitely not relaxed, but quieter. The kind of quiet that came when reality finally settled in and a person realized they were too deep into something to pretend otherwise.
She still looked pale as hell sitting on the edge of the metal table in the underground room beneath the clubhouse. Her dark hair was messy from where Doc had stitched the back of her head, and every once in a while, she’d blink too slowly like the concussion was catching up to her again.
Doc had warned us she’d probably crash hard once the adrenaline wore off. Judging by the way her shoulders kept sagging every few minutes, he was right.
Anchor pushed off the wall and nodded toward the door. “Get her upstairs.”
McKayla immediately frowned. “I can walk.”
“No, you can’t,” I said.
“Yes, I can.”
“You almost fell over trying to get off the table five minutes ago.”
“That was one time.”
Piney snorted behind me. “You folded like a lawn chair.”
McKayla glared at him. “I hit my head.”
“Yeah,” Piney replied. “Which is why Push is carrying you before you crack it open again and Doc charges us double.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly before sliding back to me. “I really can walk.”
I stared at her for a second. Stubborn. That was becoming real clear, real fast. “You’ve got a concussion,” I said flatly. “And you stumbled the second you got off that table. It’s safer if I carry you.”
“I don’t like how easily you people throw around words like safer.”
“That’s because you keep ending up unconscious.”
The corner of Piney’s mouth twitched.
Even Prime looked like he was trying not to laugh.
McKayla pointed at me weakly. “You’re kind of a jerk.”
“You’re kind of a pain in the ass.”
Her mouth actually twitched slightly at that.
There it was again. That weird little spark she carried around even while sitting underground with a head injury after seeing a dead body. Most women would’ve been hysterical by now. McKayla just kept throwing sarcasm around like armor.
I stepped closer before she could argue again and slid one arm behind her back and the other beneath her knees.
She let out a small sound of surprise as I lifted her off the table.
“See?” Piney said. “Princess carry. Real romantic.”
“Shut up,” I muttered.
McKayla looked between the two of us. “Are all of you this annoying?”
“Yes,” Anchor answered immediately.
Prime nodded once. “Pretty much.”
“Good to know.”
I adjusted her carefully against my chest and headed for the metal door.
Prime and Piney followed behind us while Anchor stayed back to deal with the body situation still waiting down near the dock.
That was the fucked-up part.
A dead body should’ve been the biggest problem tonight.
Everything had gotten twisted sideways the second she hit the ground.
The tunnel beyond the steel door stretched long beneath the island, concrete walls damp from years of lake moisture settling into the underground passageways. Industrial lights buzzed overhead every few feet, casting yellow pools of light across the floor.
McKayla stayed quiet for a minute while I carried her through the tunnels.
Probably taking everything in. Probably realizing this situation was real.
Then she looked up at me. “You people seriously have underground tunnels beneath a haunted island.”
“Yep.”
“That’s incredibly sketchy.”
“Probably.”
She sighed dramatically. “This is exactly how people end up in documentaries.”
Piney barked out a laugh behind us.
Prime shook his head. “You hit your head and somehow got funnier.”
“I cope through sarcasm,” she informed him.
“Clearly.”
I glanced down at her.
Even exhausted and concussed, she kept looking around like she was cataloging exits and details automatically. Her PI instincts hadn’t shut off completely.
Smart, dangerous, and a little impressive.
“You okay?” I asked.
Her eyes flicked up to mine, surprised enough by the question that it almost made me regret asking it. “My head feels like someone hit it with a baseball bat.”
“That’s because you cracked it on a rock.”
“Again with the comforting bedside manner.”
“You’re alive.”
“Barely.”
“You’re dramatic.”
She looked offended. “I saw a dead body and woke up underground with bikers.”
“Fair point.”
That earned me another tiny twitch of her mouth. Jesus Christ. Why did that feel like a victory?
We finally reached the end of the tunnel and climbed the concrete stairs leading upward. The heavy steel door creaked as Prime shoved it open.
Cold night air rushed in instantly.
The island had gone quiet. The lake still moved against the shore in the distance, and somewhere farther off a generator hummed low beneath the trees, but the chaos from earlier was gone.
No chainsaws. No screaming tourists. No music echoing through the haunted house.
The lights that usually glowed through the woods had been shut down for the night, leaving only dim security lighting scattered along the trails.
Fog drifted low across the ground beneath the trees. Peaceful and eerie as hell.
McKayla looked around slowly as I carried her out into the night.
“This place is creepy.”
Piney grinned. “That’s the business model.”
Prime shut the heavy door behind us. “You should see it during tourist season.”
“I think I’ve seen enough already.”
I started down the narrow gravel trail leading deeper into the woods.
Ahead of us, the clubhouse sat tucked back beneath the trees. Long, dark, and built more like a compound than a home.
McKayla stared at it as we got closer. “This is where you all live?”
“Yeah.”
Her eyes tracked across the building. The massive front porch, lit windows, and the motorcycles lined up outside.
I nodded toward the cabins farther off near the lake. “We all stay here, but Pearl and Bernice stayed in the cabins before…” I cut myself off.
Before Bernice died. Before bodies started surfacing every damn week.
McKayla noticed. I could tell by the way her expression shifted slightly, but she didn’t push.
Not yet.
“You do know if you make me stay here,” she said after a minute, “I’m going to want to know exactly what’s going on.”
I looked down at her. “Bold of you to assume we even know what’s going on.”
That wiped the sarcasm off her face for a second, because that was the truth. We didn’t know who was dumping bodies on the island.
Didn’t know who killed Bernice. Didn’t know why Shay was connected to all of it. And now McKayla’s missing sister might somehow be tied into the whole mess too.
None of us knew what the fuck was happening anymore.
We reached the clubhouse porch, and Anchor was already there, one hand braced against the front door as he held it open for us. “Most everyone’s inside,” he said quietly. “Pull and Post are still down by the docks cleaning up.”
I nodded once and carried McKayla into the clubhouse and conversation died instantly. Every head in the room turned toward us.
Pearl and Shay sat together on the couch near the fireplace. Lost stood behind the bar drying glasses even though none of them actually needed drying.
Skull leaned against the wall near the Church room door while Cross, Wannabe, and Vin spread out through the room.
All eyes landed on McKayla in my arms.
The guys already knew about the body.
Hell, the body had basically been shoved onto the back burner the second McKayla got hurt, because she was alive. And alive people complicated things way more than dead ones.
Pearl stood first, but Shay immediately followed. Both women moved toward us carefully, like they didn’t want to spook McKayla further.
I lowered her slowly to her feet. The second her boots hit the floor, she wobbled. My hand immediately locked around her waist before she could tip sideways. “Told you,” I muttered.
She shot me a look but didn’t argue this time.
Pearl offered her a small smile. “You’re McKayla, right?”
McKayla nodded carefully. “Yeah.”
“I’m Pearl.”
“And I’m Shay,” Shay added gently.
McKayla looked between them, probably trying to figure out how two completely normal-looking women ended up comfortable inside a biker clubhouse, sitting in the middle of a murder investigation.
Pearl glanced toward the stitches hidden beneath McKayla’s hair. “You okay?”
“She’s got a concussion,” Prime answered as he moved toward Shay automatically. The second he got close enough; Shay leaned into him without even seeming to realize she was doing it.
McKayla noticed, I could tell. She noticed everything.
Anchor shut the front door behind us and the heavy sound echoed through the room. “All right,” he said. “Let’s get everyone on the same page.”
That got the room moving.
The guys spread out through the common room while Pearl guided McKayla toward the couch slowly.
I stayed close enough to catch her if she tipped over again, which she almost did twice. “Stop hovering,” she muttered under her breath.
“You’re wobbling.”
“I am not.”
“You walked into the couch.”
“That couch came out of nowhere.”
Piney snorted loudly from his chair. “I like her.”
McKayla pointed weakly at him. “I’m undecided about you.”
“Fair.”
Pearl hid a smile behind her hand.
Shay looked openly amused.
Good, that was good. If the women accepted her, things would go smoother.
Anchor stayed standing while the rest of us settled into the room. “McKayla knows about the body,” he said bluntly.
No point easing into it.
Skull cursed under his breath.
Wannabe muttered, “Well, shit.”
“She also knows we didn’t kill him,” Anchor continued.
McKayla lifted a shoulder slightly. “I said I don’t think you did.”
“Not exactly a glowing character reference,” Vin muttered.
She stared at him. “You all literally live on a haunted island with underground tunnels.”
“That’s not illegal.”
“It feels illegal.”
Lost finally spoke from behind the bar. “You’d be surprised how many things feel illegal but aren’t.”
“That somehow doesn’t make me feel better,” McKayla muttered.
A few chuckles moved through the room.