Chapter Nine
Push
Four days of surveillance footage was enough to make a man consider setting every computer on Skull Island on fire and calling it problem solved.
Unfortunately, Vin probably would’ve cried, Anchor would’ve kicked my ass, and McKayla would’ve just found another screen somewhere and kept going.
The woman was relentless.
For four damn days, she’d gone through footage from every camera we had, then backed up and gone through it again.
Haunted house entrances, midway paths, dock cameras, employee-only routes, parking areas, the bridge, the cabins, and every grainy angle Vin could pull from the system.
She watched hours of people screaming, laughing, eating funnel cakes, dropping phones, stumbling out of the haunted house, making out behind booths, and generally acting like dumbasses.
But the guy in the gray hoodie didn’t show again. Not even close.
That was the part that bothered me.
He’d been careful enough to avoid us for weeks, but somehow he’d let himself be seen within thirty minutes of everybody discovery.
That wasn’t an accident. McKayla said it the second day, after pausing a clip so many times I thought the spacebar might give up and die. “He wanted to be seen those times.”
She was right. That made the whole thing worse.
A man who made mistakes was one thing. A man who let you think he made mistakes was another.
By the fourth morning, I was about ready to drag McKayla out of that damn chair and throw the laptop into the lake.
She had circles under her eyes, her hair was twisted up on top of her head with a pencil shoved through it, and she’d started muttering to the footage like the people on-screen might answer if she insulted them enough.
They didn’t.
I knew because I’d been beside her through most of it.
Breakfast that morning was quieter than usual. The haunted house had closed late the night before, which meant most of the guys had slept in. Lost had coffee going, because Lost always had coffee going, and Pearl had somehow made breakfast burritos big enough to qualify as weapons.
McKayla sat at the table across from me, picking at the corner of one with her eyes half-focused on the laptop beside her plate.
I reached over and closed the laptop.
Her gaze snapped to mine. “Excuse me.”
“No.”
“No?” she echoed.
“No footage during breakfast.”
“I wasn’t watching it.”
“You were thinking about watching it.”
“That is not a crime.”
“It should be.”
Shay laughed from beside Prime while Pearl slid into the chair next to Anchor.
McKayla pointed her fork at me. “You are very bossy for a man who claims not to be holding me hostage.”
“You need a break.”
“I need to find my sister.”
The table quieted a little.
That happened whenever Erin came up. Nobody knew what to say, and I hated that because I didn’t either.
I leaned back in my chair and studied her. “You need a break so you can keep finding your sister.”
Her mouth pressed together. She looked away first, which I counted as a win.
I needed a damn break too, but I didn’t say that. Spending four days staring at footage with her had started doing something strange to my head. I was used to watching threats. Watching crowds. Watching exits. Watching brothers’ backs.
I was not used to watching one woman tuck her hair behind her ear twenty times an hour or rub at her temple when her headache got bad or smile to herself when she caught some tourist doing something stupid on camera.
I was noticing too damn much. That was a problem.
Pearl took a bite of the burrito and groaned. “Pearl, this is amazing.”
Lost grunted from behind the bar. “It’s eggs and meat in a tortilla.”
“Still amazing.”
“It’s food,” Pearl laughed.
McKayla lifted her hand. “As someone who lived on gas station snacks for way too long, I would like to formally disagree. This is art.”
Lost glanced at her for a beat. “You need higher standards.”
“She did willingly stay in that motel,” Shay said.
“I am a PI who needs to be close to what she is investigating,” McKayla reminded her. “That motel was better than sleeping in my car.”
Pearl smiled. “And now here you are, eating breakfast burritos and insulting footage like it owes you money.”
McKayla sighed. “I’m good at adjusting to the environment.”
Prime blinked. “What the hell does that mean?”
“It means she’s crazy and willing to do whatever it takes to do her job,” Shay said.
Prime glanced at McKayla, then at me. “That tracks.”
McKayla pointed at him with her burrito. “I’m choosing to take that as a compliment.”
“It wasn’t,” Prime said.
“Too late.”
I huffed a laugh before I could stop myself.
McKayla’s eyes slid to me.
There was something warm in that look that hit harder than it should have. Maybe because it was quick. Maybe because she wasn’t guarded for once. Or maybe because I’d spent four days learning that the woman could be exhausted, scared, and stubborn as hell while still noticing everything around her.
Whatever it was, I needed distance.
Not far.
Just enough to clear my head.
I wiped my mouth with a napkin and pushed back from the table. “Let’s go for a ride.”
McKayla froze with her burrito halfway to her mouth. “What?”
“You need air.”
“I’m breathing air.”
“Different air.”
Her eyes narrowed. “That sounds suspiciously like exercise.”
“It’s a motorcycle ride.”
Pearl immediately perked up. “A ride?”
Shay sat up straighter. “Like off the island?”
Anchor’s eyes moved to me slowly.
Prime’s did the same.
Great. There went my idea of taking McKayla out alone for an hour.
Not that Anchor would’ve let that happen anyway. He barely liked anyone leaving the island right now, and when they did, it was with backup.
“No,” Anchor said.
Pearl turned to him. “Anchor.”
“No.”
“You didn’t even let him explain.”
“He said ride. I heard ride. Answer’s no.”
Shay leaned forward. “You went to see Bob the other day.”
Anchor glowered at her. “That was different.”
“How?” Pearl asked.
“We went to the hospital.”
“And came back,” Pearl said. “Which is exactly what we would do now.”
Anchor stared at her.
Pearl stared back.
I took a slow drink of coffee because this was no longer my fight. Technically I had started it, but I knew when to shut the hell up.
Prime leaned back and crossed his arms. “What’s a ride gonna hurt?”
Anchor’s head turned toward him.
Prime lifted a shoulder. “I’m just saying. We’ve all been locked down for days. Shay’s going stir-crazy. Pearl’s pretending not to. McKayla’s eyes are gonna melt out if she watches another hour of footage. Push looks like he might punch the laptop. A ride might do everyone good.”
“Thank you,” Shay said, patting his arm. Prime looked pleased with himself until she added, “See? You do sometimes use your brain.”
He frowned. “Sometimes?”
Shay kissed his cheek. “Don’t push it.”
McKayla looked between them, then back at Anchor. “For the record, I would also like my eyes not to melt out.”
Anchor didn’t look amused.
Pearl slid her hand over his forearm. “Just a ride. We don’t have to go far.”
“No stopping.”
Pearl tilted her head. “Well…”
Anchor pointed at her. “No.”
“I didn’t even say anything.”
“You were thinking something.”
“I was thinking ice cream.”
“No.”
McKayla slowly lowered her burrito. “There’s ice cream?”
“Not helping,” I muttered.
She looked at me. “I’ve been staring at murder footage for four days. Ice cream feels medically necessary.”
Shay nodded solemnly. “Absolutely.”
Pearl pointed at Shay. “See? Medical.”
Prime rubbed a hand over his mouth, probably hiding a smile.
Anchor looked around the table like every person sitting there had betrayed him. “No stopping,” he repeated.
Pearl smiled sweetly. “Of course.” That tone meant bullshit. Anchor knew it too. I could see it in the way his jaw tightened.
Prime stood and grabbed Shay’s empty plate. “I’ll get my keys.”
Anchor shook his head at him. “I haven’t agreed.”
Prime kept walking toward the sink. “You’re going to.”
Shay beamed.
McKayla leaned closer to me and whispered, “Is this what democracy looks like in a motorcycle club?”
“No.”
“What is it then?”
“Pearl winning.”
She glanced at Pearl, who was now smiling up at Anchor like she hadn’t just organized a small mutiny over ice cream.
“Good for her,” McKayla murmured.
Anchor sighed heavily. “Fine.”
Pearl immediately kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”
“No stopping.”
“Of course.”
“Pearl.”
“What?” she asked innocently.
He stared at her.
She held up her hands. “Ride first. Possible frozen dairy later.”
McKayla raised her hand. “I vote yes on frozen dairy.”
“You don’t get a vote,” Anchor said.
“I’m a hostage. I feel like that entitles me to at least one vote.”
“You’re not a hostage.”
“Strongly discouraged to leave guest,” she corrected.
Piney walked into the kitchen right then, hair messy and eyes barely open. “Who’s discouraged?”
“McKayla,” Shay said. “From leaving.”
“Oh.” Piney grabbed coffee. “Still?”
“Yes,” McKayla said.
“Cool.” He took a drink and looked at Anchor. “You letting her go somewhere?”
“Ride,” Anchor grunted.
Piney’s eyes lit. “Hell yeah.”
“No,” Anchor said immediately.
Piney frowned. “Why not?”
“Because the whole damn club isn’t taking a field trip.”
Piney looked wounded. “I like ice cream too.”
Anchor pointed toward the door. “You’re on clubhouse duty.”
“That feels unfair.”
“It is.”
McKayla laughed, and the sound slid under my skin before I could stop it.
Damn woman.
Twenty minutes later, we were outside with the bikes lined up in front of the clubhouse.
The day had turned out better than I expected. Sun high but not brutal, breeze coming off the lake, enough clouds moving across the sky to keep everything from feeling too hot. It was the kind of weather made for riding.
Anchor still looked like he was rethinking every decision that had led him to this point.
Pearl looked thrilled.
Shay looked like she’d been granted parole.
McKayla stood beside my bike with her hand on her hip and her face tilted slightly toward the sun.