7. Island Of Monsters
7
ISLAND OF MONSTERS
The call with Merrick was successful last night. After his initial expletive-laced tirade, I managed to convince him this reversal was actually a good thing.
Spying for the Hartfords will fast-track their trust in me and get me into the inner circle quickly. Plus, if we play this right, it gives us control over them and their perceptions. I told him to go back to McArthur and determine what information they want to feed to their enemies.
That call went great.
The transfer of my belongings to Julia’s house the following morning did not.
“Do you need a ride to the gate?” she asks in the same stiff tone I’ve gotten since my arrival an hour ago.
I shake my head, looking appropriately meek for my crime. “No, I’ll take the shuttle.”
She nods, turning abruptly to refill her mug. “You want some?”
Her tone says, say yes so I can dump scalding hot coffee on your head.
“Mine’s still full. Thanks, though.”
I find it interesting she’s so miffed by my “betrayal” when her own affections were supposed to be staged. More evidence our chemistry is real.
More evidence that you did the right thing in backing off.
Our gazes, though…
Haven’t.
Whenever she thinks I’m not looking, her eyes track my every movement. Tracing my body in a way her fingers can’t. I’ve been stripped many times in many ways, but never with a single look.
For my part, I’ve cataloged every detail of her tiny shorts and the shiny skin beneath them. She probably wore that tight crop top just to torture me, and my gullible mind has logged and analyzed each tantalizing curve it exposes.
Good thing my fictional partner isn’t in the room or she’d be incredibly jealous.
Julia sighs and straightens from the counter. “Okay look. For this to work, we have to be civil to each other.”
She seems sincere. Back to the responsible, mature leader her profile said she’d be. We’ve been playing so many games with each other, I’m not even sure I’ve seen her real persona yet.
She takes a sip of her coffee and raises her brows. “Think you can handle that?”
“I didn’t realize I was being un civil,” I say, releasing a half-smile as a peace offering.
She returns it, softening slightly from her warrior stance. “Okay, well, in public I guess we should still hold hands. We don’t have to do more than that, but we have to sell the lie so no one suspects we’re together for any other reason.”
I lift my cup, igniting at the way she stares with intense precision at my lips hitting the rim. Heat flares in her eyes. Her gaze drops to my shirt, then my arms. Is she imagining me naked? She’s picturing something besides what’s in front of her, and my blood sears with vivid recall of her aggressive hands. Fuck, I want them on me right now.
I grip the mug tighter, forcing my body to calm down.
“What other reason would we be together?” I ask casually. “Would they suspect you’d be spying on them?”
There. A flinch.
“You know what I mean. I was just reiterating the plan.”
I hold her stare long enough to send the message that I’m not convinced. She averts her gaze, and I lean against the island.
“Why am I really going undercover?” I ask in a serious tone. “I’m taking a huge risk to do this for you. The least you can do is be honest with me.”
She shifts uncomfortably. “It’s the right thing to do. The authorities?—”
“Julia, come on. You know I’m not an idiot. The authorities ? Really?”
Her attention fixes on something through the window, probably just a plant or bird, but it’s not my prying eyes, so it’s enough for her.
I sigh in frustration. “If they’re as evil as you say, then I could be writing my death sentence by helping you. It’s only fair that I know why.”
“You’re not going to get hurt.”
I meet her gaze, and she looks away. We both know she can’t promise that.
“It’s complicated.”
“I can handle complicated.”
“I know.” Her eyes lock on mine with a blistering message.
Remember when I touched you, Shaw? Remember how I taste? How we writhed and melted in each other’s hands? We could be in my bedroom right now.
I wonder what color her sheets are. There’s no doubt I’ll know soon if we continue on this path—dangerous or not.
After another charged silence, she straightens and places her mug on the counter. “Okay, look. The truth is, our families hate each other.”
“You and the McArthurs?”
She nods. “My family has inhabited this island for generations. It’s ours. But things got tight for my great-grandfather fifty years ago and he sold over half the land to the McArthurs.
“He thought the resort would be good for us. As part of the agreement, the McArthurs would pay us in perpetuity for access to their property. Kind of a licensing fee for our roads, marina, and pier. We still own the entire perimeter of the island, including all the beaches and land surrounding the resort. They lease the beaches on the Palmetto Acres side for the resort guests, but the contract expressly forbids the development of direct access points. There’s also an exclusive toll every time they come and go through our territory. My great-grandfather thought the deal was a good way to sell the land while still maintaining our sovereignty over the island.”
“I’m going to guess that arrangement didn’t sit well with the McArthurs for very long.”
She smirks. “No. And it turns out, they’re monsters. We don’t know exactly what’s going on in that resort, but we’ve seen enough to know it’s not something we want on our turf. We want them gone and our land back as much as they want us annihilated so they can have control of the island.”
“But the tourists fund your existence. What would you do without them?”
I catch the slight hesitation before her nod. She’s hiding something. I knew she was, but this is the first conclusive evidence. Tourism isn’t what funds their operations, at least not primarily. Monsters come in varying degrees and can inhabit two sides of an island.
Monsters can inhabit anything.
“Tourists could still visit Undertow without the McArthurs,” she says. “They already frequent our shops and restaurants, and we’ve set up other attractions over the years. My cousin Tyler does sport fishing expeditions, Jade has her jewelry shop, Linc his cooking… Even our baby brother Theo got in the game with his miniature golf park last year. The nannies bring the kids to play while the parents golf for real in Palmetto Acres. It was his idea, and he’s been raking it in.
“We’ve also talked about maintaining the resort ourselves, but on our own terms. We need the guests, not the McArthurs.”
Her tone and proud smile seem dissonant with the underlying message my expert intuition is picking up. In my brief time here, I’ve noted there are a lot of small businesses in Undertow and not many people running them. Julia already said she has to leave in a few minutes to “check on some things at the marina” before her afternoon shift at Mama’s Café. In addition, I’m pretty sure Tyler the Fisherman was also the one collecting the toll from my drive in with Abe.
Then there was the other hint last night. After my rejection, Julia recovered from the blow by saying she had a lot of work to do. I found that odd since it was after eleven, and watched closely as she pulled a laptop from its case as part of her angry dismissal. In that brief moment, I caught a glimpse of several bricks of bills in her bag.
Mama’s Café is cash-only. I need to see if all the other operations are as well. If so, that will tell me a lot.
“No wonder you’re so busy all the time,” I say with a smile.
She returns it. “Someone has to keep this place running. Speaking of which, I should get going. What time are you heading back to the resort?”
I let my smile fade. “Soon.”
She softens when I look away. “You can do this, Shaw. Just play it cool. And if you need to run, run .”
Run.
I tried that once.