Chapter Twenty
McKayla
“Stop right there!”
I paused with the ketchup bottle upside down over my hot dog and slowly looked across the kitchen table at Cross. “Uh… what?”
Cross pointed at me like I had just committed a felony. “Ketchup is a sin on a hot dog.”
I stared at him for a beat before squeezing a thick line of ketchup right across the top of it.
Cross let out a horrified sound.
I set the bottle down calmly. “Seeing as I’m the one eating this and you aren’t, I’m good with this delicious sin.”
Prime snorted into his beer.
Vin shook his head from the other side of the table. “You’re lucky he doesn’t throw people off the island for that shit.”
Cross looked genuinely offended. “I spent an hour grilling those dogs.”
I took a giant bite and chewed slowly while making eye contact with him. “And I improved one.”
Push barked out a laugh beside me.
Cross pointed his spatula at him. “You’re encouraging her.”
Push leaned back in his chair; one arm draped over the back of it while he watched me with amusement in his dark eyes. “Baby’s got confidence. I respect it.”
I swallowed my bite and grabbed another hot dog off the tray sitting in the middle of the table before sitting sideways in Push’s lap.
His big hand immediately settled against my thigh automatically like it belonged there.
I took another bite while double-fisting hot dogs.
Push looked at me and laughed again. “I have to say, I’m impressed.”
I slowly lowered one hot dog and looked up at him innocently. “What can I say? I’ve always been good at handling multiple wieners.”
The entire table erupted.
Prime choked on his beer.
Pearl nearly slid out of her chair laughing.
Even Anchor made a rough coughing sound into his hand that I was almost positive had been him trying not to laugh.
Push just stared at me for a second before dragging his tongue slowly across his bottom lip. “Careful, baby.”
“Oh my God,” Shay wheezed. “You two are disgusting.”
“Thank you,” I said proudly before taking another bite.
Cross shook his head and muttered something about heathens ruining his food while heading back toward the kitchen.
The radio sitting on the bar crackled loudly. “Anchor?”
The clubhouse quieted instantly.
Anchor pushed away from the wall and headed toward the bar while grabbing the radio. “Go.”
Lost’s voice came through static. “Ron just rolled up.”
Anchor’s posture shifted immediately from relaxed to business. “We’re heading that way.”
The radio clicked off.
Push smirked at me. “You better down those hot dogs, baby.”
I lifted a brow. “You rushing me after complimenting my multitasking skills feels contradictory.”
Prime groaned loudly. “Jesus Christ.”
Push laughed low against my ear while squeezing my thigh once. “Eat.”
I finished the second hot dog while everyone watched me like I was some kind of feral animal.
“See?” I said after swallowing the last bite. “I’m a pro.”
Cross walked back into the room just in time to hear me. “A pro at eating sinful hot dogs.”
I slid off Push’s lap, smiling. “They were delicious, but only because I put ketchup in them.”
Push stood and grabbed his cut off the chair nearby before looking at me. “Come on.”
Anchor was already heading toward the front door with Prime and Vin behind him.
Push walked beside me while Anchor and the others moved ahead.
“You nervous?” Push asked quietly.
I thought about it honestly. “A little,” I admitted. “This just feels important.”
Before, Skull Island had just been where bodies turned up and where weird biker men glared at me while acting suspicious. Now? Now my sister had actually been here. Which meant somewhere along the line, something had happened. And maybe Ron knew what it was.
We walked past the haunted house entrance where workers were beginning to move around getting things ready for the night crowds. Fake fog curled low across the ground while chainsaws revved somewhere deeper in the attraction during sound checks.
Push must’ve noticed my expression because his hand brushed lightly against the small of my back.
“You okay?”
I nodded once. “Just weird.”
“Yeah.”
The concession stand came into view ahead of us.
The whole building fit the haunted theme with fake boarded windows, peeling paint, skeleton decorations, and old lanterns hanging from hooks. From the outside, it looked more like a haunted saloon than somewhere that sold popcorn and hot dogs.
I looked up toward the second level. “It’s hard to believe there’s an office up there.”
“There’s a lot of shit on this island people don’t realize is here,” Vin muttered.
“That sentence somehow keeps getting more unsettling every time one of you says it.”
Prime smirked slightly.
Anchor motioned toward a side door near the back of the concession stand. “This way.”
Push opened the door and let me step inside first.
The narrow staircase smelled faintly like grease, popcorn, and old wood. Music from outside filtered through the walls as we climbed.
At the top sat a plain brown door. Anchor knocked once before opening it.
The office was much larger than I expected.
The entire second floor stretched out before us with three desks spread around the room, each cluttered with paperwork, binders, sticky notes, and computer monitors.
Filing cabinets lined one wall while shelves overflowed with maps, receipts, decorations, and boxes labeled things like FOG MACHINE PARTS and PROP REPAIRS.
There was also two large copy machines tucked under one of the windows.
At the far desk sat a man in brown slacks and a white button-down shirt stretched slightly over a pot belly. Salt-and-pepper hair curled around his ears, and glasses rested low on his nose while he typed something into the computer.
Ron looked up. His face brightened immediately when he saw Anchor. “Well look who finally decided to grace me with his presence,” Ron said warmly.
Anchor snorted. “You say that like you miss me.”
Ron laughed and stood slowly from his desk. His attention shifted around the room, landing briefly on me before moving to Push and Vin. “What’s going on?”
Anchor rested one hand against the back of a chair casually. “Need to ask you something.”
Ron nodded. “Shoot.”
Anchor motioned toward me. “We’re trying to figure out if a woman named Erin Day worked here recently.”
Ron frowned slightly. “The name doesn’t ring a bell.”
“That’s what we figured,” Push said. “She only worked a few days.”
Ron nodded slowly. “Lemme take a look.”
He moved toward the filing cabinets along the wall while I quietly took in the office more carefully.
There were coffee rings on one desk beside stacks of schedules. A giant wall calendar had handwritten notes covering almost every date. Photos of the haunted house from previous years hung crookedly near a bulletin board stuffed with vendor information and staffing lists.
Nothing about the room felt sinister.
Nothing about Ron did either.
He just seemed like a tired guy who handled paperwork and logistics for a haunted attraction.
Which made me feel slightly ridiculous for even wondering if this could somehow connect back to Erin.
Ron flipped through files carefully. “You said Erin Day?”
“Yeah,” I answered.
He nodded absently while continuing to search.
Push stood close beside me, one hand brushing lightly against my lower back now and then.
Ron suddenly stopped flipping through folders. “Here we go.” He pulled out a small stack of papers and adjusted his glasses. “Erin Day,” he read. “Yep. She worked here a few weeks ago.” He looked up. “Didn’t even finish training before she quit.”
My stomach tightened instantly. “Can I see?”
Ron hesitated only briefly before glancing toward Anchor. Anchor nodded once.
Ron handed me the papers, and I looked them over carefully. Standard employment paperwork. Tax forms. Emergency contact information. Training acknowledgment sheets.
Erin’s handwriting stared back at me from the pages, and I swallowed hard. Seeing her name there made this all feel painfully real again. “She really was here,” I whispered.
Push stayed silent beside me.
Ron rubbed the back of his neck. “Honestly, I didn’t know her very well. We get seasonal workers all the time.”
“Did she say where she was going when she quit?” Push asked.
Ron shrugged casually. “Not really. I remember her saying something about Tennessee though. Said the weather there seemed nice this time of year.”
I tipped my head slightly.
Ron looked back at me. “Maybe she headed down there.”
I nodded slowly like I was considering it seriously. “Maybe.”
Push’s eyes flicked toward me briefly. He noticed not what specifically, just that something in me had shifted, but he didn’t say anything.
Good.
I kept my expression thoughtful while handing the paperwork back. “Thanks,” I said. “It’s good to at least confirm she was here.”
Ron nodded sympathetically. “She would have been a god worker had she stuck around.”
Nothing about him felt dangerous.
But that Tennessee comment sat wrong in my gut.
Anchor pushed off the chair. “Appreciate it, Ron.”
“Anytime.”
Prime clapped Ron lightly on the shoulder as we started heading for the door. “Try not to burn the island down while we’re gone,” Ron called.
We headed back down the stairs quietly.
The sounds of tourists and music hit us again the second we stepped outside. The air smelled like popcorn, lake water, and fog machine smoke. Push stayed beside me while the others spread out slightly ahead.
“You okay?” he asked quietly.
“Yeah.”
But he clearly knew better.
We started walking back toward the clubhouse.
Anchor glanced over at me. “What do you think?”
I kept my face neutral. Careful, because I didn’t actually know what I thought yet. “It’s good to confirm Erin was really here,” I said honestly. “Though it still doesn’t help figure out where she is now.”
Anchor grunted.
Prime shoved his hands into his pockets. “At least we know the boyfriend story wasn’t bullshit.”
“Yeah,” Vin agreed. “And now we know she stayed longer than just one date night.”
Push looked down at me. “You’re thinking. You get that wrinkle between your eyebrows.”
I blinked up at him. “What wrinkle?”
“The thinking wrinkle.”
Prime barked out a laugh.
“There’s no way that’s a thing,” I muttered.
Push’s hand slid around my waist briefly as we walked. “It’s a thing.”
“You think your sister went to Tennessee?” Prime asked.
I hesitated. “Um, maybe?” But I knew she didn’t.
I couldn’t figure out if Erin had told Ron that to throw him off or if he made it up.
When Erin and I were younger, we were placed in a foster home in Tennessee. It had been the worst two months of our lives, and we had both sworn we would never set foot in that state again. Ever.
Push must have felt me tense beside him because his arm tightened slightly around my waist. “You okay, baby?”
“Yeah,” I lied automatically.
His eyes narrowed just a little. He knew I was lying.
Anchor pulled the clubhouse door open ahead of us while Prime and Vin headed inside.
“You guys coming?” Prime asked.
“In a minute,” Push answered.
Prime looked between us once before nodding and disappearing inside.
The screen door slapped shut behind them, leaving me and Push standing alone on the porch while dusk settled over the island.
Push leaned one shoulder against the porch railing and looked down at me. “What’s going on in that head?”
I forced a shrug. “Nothing.”
“Bullshit.”
I sighed and rubbed my forehead. “It’s just…” I trailed off.
Push stayed quiet. Waiting. God, I hated that he was good at this.
“When we were kids,” I finally said softly, “Erin and I got placed with a foster family in Tennessee for a couple of months.”
Push’s entire expression shifted immediately. “It was bad?” he asked quietly.
I laughed once without humor. “That’s one word for it.”
The memories clawed at the edges of my brain again, but I shoved them back down before they could fully surface. “We hated it there,” I continued. “By the time we finally got moved somewhere else, we swore we’d never go back.”
Push studied me carefully. “So you don’t think Erin would’ve gone there.”
“No.” I shook my head immediately. “Not willingly.”
Silence stretched between us for a second. The breeze lifted my hair while somewhere in the distance a tourist screamed loudly.
Push reached up and brushed his thumb lightly along my jaw. “You think Ron was lying.”
Not a question, a statement.
I looked down at the porch boards. “I don’t know.” That was the truth. “Maybe Erin said it to throw him off,” I said quietly. “Or maybe he made it up because he didn’t know what else to say.”
Push was quiet for another beat. “You wanna tell Anchor?”
I looked toward the clubhouse door. Toward the club that had somehow become mine too, without me noticing when exactly that happened. “I don’t know yet,” I admitted.
Because accusing someone based on a weird feeling wasn’t enough.
Not for me.
Not after years of PI work where instincts mattered, but proof mattered more.
Push nodded slowly like he understood exactly what I meant. “You’ll figure it out,” he said simply.
I looked up at him. “What if I’m wrong?”
“Then you’re wrong.” His fingers slid into my hair gently. “But if something feels off to you, I trust it.”
I stared at him for a second too long before finally exhaling softly. “God, you’re annoyingly supportive for a biker.”
One corner of his mouth lifted. “Don’t tell the guys. I got a reputation.”
I laughed quietly.
Push leaned down and pressed a kiss against my forehead before opening the clubhouse door for me.
“Come on, baby,” he murmured. “Take the day to think about it, and we’ll deal with Ron tomorrow.”
I walked inside beside him, but my mind stayed stuck on one thing.
Tennessee.
Either Ron knew more than he was saying, or Erin had been trying to tell somebody something before she disappeared.