by Ella Miles
I stare down at my arms, where goosebumps have formed, and hair is sticking straight up as if warning me that danger is nearby.
I glance back as the car speeds off down the highway.
There can’t be anything dangerous about a person who can barely afford a car. Most people think that poor people are more dangerous than rich. That poor people are desperate and addicted to drugs. That they will do anything to survive. Anything to get the drugs—not true.
Sure, poor people can be dangerous. And yes, some are addicted to drugs. Stealing petty amounts of money or robbing someone at gunpoint, if they happen to get ahold of a gun, is the most damage they can do. Yes, that might end in a death or two, but it’s nothing compared to the damage a rich person can do.
A rich person has more to lose, and that makes them more dangerous. A rich person can hire an army to take out the threat. They have endless weapons at their disposal. They can pay off the police to ensure there are no consequences for their actions. Rich people can make anything they want happen. I know—I’ve worked for a rich person my entire life. I’ve seen what wealth can get you.
Whoever was in that car was not a threat. Whatever fucked up spidey sense my body was trying to use to warn me is broken.
“Zeke, get your fucking ass over here if you want to get paid!” Wayne says.
I shake off the strange feeling and continue walking to the pier. I don’t speed up my steps. That’s not who I am. I may follow orders, but I don’t change who I am. I’m the gentle giant—calm in the face of fear. And I don’t like being disrespected. I don’t like working for bosses I don’t admire. And Wayne has not earned my respect.
“What do you want, Wayne?”
“It’s Mr. Hill.”
I stand, towering almost a foot taller than him. My muscles ripple and contract in ways his never will. He may write my paycheck, but I’m not going to pretend I won’t kill him if he fucks me over.
“What task have you arranged for me today, Wayne?” I ask, continuing to use his first name.
He frowns but doesn’t fight me on it. An audience has formed around us as his men stop their work to watch our inevitable fight.
I still don’t understand why Julian Reed has Wayne as his number two. I haven’t learned everything there is to learn about Julian, but I do know he’s smart, powerful, and ruthless. He’s a lot like my old boss, Enzo Black. He just doesn’t have quite the empire or money that Enzo has. His money is newer. His empire is just starting out and focused mainly on selling drugs as far as I can see. While Enzo has his hand in everything.
“I need you to load the speed boat with the cargo from the truck. Think you can handle that before lunch?” Wayne says, his eyes threatening to fire me. He hates me. If it were up to him, he’d have already fired me—do us both a favor. But it’s not up to him. It’s not even up to me. I was saved. I owe a man my life—something I can never repay. But I’m doing my best before returning to my real life.
“It will be done within the hour,” I answer.
“No way. You’re underestimating the amount of cargo that needs to be transferred. There is no way one man can get the job done within the hour.”
“Are you saying I’m not a man of my word?”
He folds his arms across his chest in a grumpy way. “I’m saying there is no way you can load the boat with all the cargo in an hour.”
My eyes deepen, and my jaw twitches. I hate being underestimated. “Care to make a wager on it?”
He shrugs. Pussy.
“If I get it loaded in under an hour, you pay me double,” I say. I don’t care about the money. I care about putting this motherfucker in his place.
“And if I win?”
“I work for you for a month for free,” I say, even though I don’t plan on staying that long. I won’t lose this bet. I know my capabilities.
The crowd of men around us oohs as the wager is placed.
Wayne grins, extending his hand to me. “I love having workers I don’t have to pay.” His eyes dart over to two of his men that are currently working a year for free. I wouldn’t call them workers so much as slaves. They do all the work everyone else doesn’t want to do. And not only do they not get paid, they get treated like dirt.
Wayne looks at his watch. “Time starts now.”
I shake my head at the dirty bastard as I walk at my normal, casual pace over to the truck. He thinks he’s being tricky by starting the time without warning and without me anywhere near the truck, but he’s just digging his own grave deeper. The more he messes with me, the more I want to end his life.
I look into the back of the loading truck. There are a dozen crates that usually take two men to lift, and at least fifty bags that need to be carried over. I look in the corner where the dolly is, but one of the wheels has popped off, and the other has a flat.
Bastard.
Guess I’m getting my workout in this morning.
I’ll start with the crates first. They are the hardest to move because no matter how strong I am, I can only lift one at a time. Then I can work on the bags which I can transport more quickly.
When I walk out of the truck, carrying one of the crates easily between my arms, I hear the gasps from the men around me.
I snicker. I just wish I could watch Wayne pissing his pants. Julian Reed isn’t going to be happy he has to pay me double wages.
Forty-five minutes later, I lift the last five bags, toss them over my shoulder and then start carrying them to the boat.
“Zeke,” Julian shouts from his car.
Thank God. I’m tired of dealing with Wayne.
I toss the last of the bags into the boat and then find Wayne’s gaze. “You owe me double.”
His face goes white in front of his boss.
And then I head over to Julian’s car.
Julian glares at Wayne. “He’s having you move cargo?”
I nod.
He shakes his head. “Sorry about him, he can’t recognize good talent when he sees it.”
I shrug. “I think he’s just threatened.”
He laughs. “Probably.”
“You have something better for me to do?”
“Get in,” he nods.
I climb into the backseat next to him. And then his driver starts driving as Julian presses the button for the partition to go up.
Julian is dressed in a sharp suit. He looks more like a banker than a drug dealer. I don’t understand the appeal of suits. I guess men wear them when they want to look powerful without having to put in the work to gain muscles. Muscles that automatically earn you respect from other men when you walk into the room.
“I think it’s time we put your skills to the test,” he says.
I nod. I like where this is going. If I can do something big enough to repay the debt I owe him, then I can get off this island. It’s beautiful, sure. But it’s not home.
Julian saved my life three months ago. He pulled me from the ocean before I nearly drowned. He brought me back to his mansion and flew in the best doctors to take care of me. He said the doctors at the local hospital couldn’t have saved me. And after driving by it a few times, I realized he was right. They couldn’t have saved my life. I was lucky he did. Julian knew if he saved me, I would owe him. I know he didn’t do it out of the goodness of his heart. He saw how large I was and took a chance that I would be able to pay him back in a way worth his time.
“What do you have in mind?” I ask. Please let it be something that earns me my freedom. I’m not really his captive. I’m not his slave. But I can’t leave in good conscience until I pay him back. It’s just the way I am. I’ve worked for him for two and a half months now. As soon as I healed, I got to work. He insisted on paying me for the work even though I said I would do the work for free. All the time, waiting for a moment when I knew I could finally leave, my conscience clear.
It’s taken all of my strength to stay. All I wanted to do was get on the first plane back to Miami. I had friends who depended
on me. People I needed to protect. But I knew if I returned in the shape I was in, I would only get them all killed. Just like what happened before. I wasn’t as strong as I should have been. And it almost cost me my friends’ lives. It almost cost my life. I won’t put them in danger again. And I’m afraid if I don’t leave here with Julian’s good graces that I will be putting them in danger. I will be creating a new enemy.
So that’s why I’ve stayed mute about who I worked for before coming here. At first, I pretended I couldn’t even remember my life before. And I sure as hell won’t be telling Julian about my boss now. Even though this guy is small fries compared to the great Black empire.
“I have a deal that needs arranging. Wayne hasn’t been able to close it for me. And the timing isn’t good for me; my biggest client needs my attention. I can’t be seen courting another client at the same time. You understand, optics in this business are everything.”
“Of course,” I say.
“I need someone I can trust. Someone smart to go in my place. Someone who can close the deal. Ensure he chooses me to be his partner. That I’m the one he trusts to manage his shipment. Are you the guy to make that happen?”
He pulls a cigar out of his jacket and lights it. He doesn’t offer me one. He knows by now I won’t take it. I’ve been too focused on healing to take pleasure in any sort of vices. My lungs still burn when I breathe from taking in too much saltwater. I can’t add smoke inhalation to my list of injuries.
“I can be for the right price.”
He laughs. “I assumed you were a good negotiator. Name your price. Want ten percent of the deal?”
I shake my head, my eyes darkening, showing how serious I am. My lips thin, and my shoulders straighten, making me look more powerful. More dangerous. “If I do this, then my debt is clean. I owe you nothing. We are done. You are no longer my boss, and I’m no longer your employee. I’ve repaid you for saving my life.”
Julian’s lips twitch. He takes another drag of the cigar and then slowly exhales until the back of the car is filled with smoke.
My lungs ache as I inhale the smoke. My throat itches with the need to cough and remove the fumes. My eyes water, and will be red the rest of the day. But I don’t cough, scratch, or cower. I don’t show weakness.
Julian wants me to handle a drug deal with a man he is desperate to work with. He’s trusting me with this task. I can’t show him any weakness. He needs to know that no matter what, I will get the job done.
“Sure. You do the job; you owe me nothing. Although, I hope after you get a taste of working for me, and the money and bonuses that come with it, you will reconsider working for me on a long term basis.”
I don’t respond. I don’t want to lead him on and think that I will work for him. But I don’t want to insult him by saying there is no amount of money that could ever make me work for him. My boss is Enzo Black. He’s earned that right. He’s one of my best friends. I don’t want to work for anyone else.
“He’s a lucky man,” he says.
“Who?”
“Whoever you worked for before I found you. It’s obvious you risked your life for him. That you will do anything to return to work for him, even though you’ve been here for months, and he hasn’t even tried to find you.”
Because Enzo thinks I’m dead, and he has a woman he loves that he has to protect at all costs.
“I would love to have a man work for me with that kind of loyalty.”
You have to earn it. Show that even though you do some bad things, you are fair and honest and do the right thing when it really matters. You will sacrifice your life for mine just as I would mine for yours.
Julian will never be that kind of boss. He likes money and power too much. From what I’ve seen, he’s fair with how he treats his men. He pays them well for the jobs they do, but that’s as far as it goes. He’s not friends with his men. He doesn’t treat them like equals. And he thinks his life is more important than theirs.
“Who is your boss, anyway?” Julian asks, causally taking another puff of his cigar.
But there is nothing casual about his question. He’s very curious to know who my boss is. And I don’t plan on telling him a damn thing. I’m loyal; I’ll protect the Black empire with my life.
“Right now, you.”
He chuckles, almost choking on the smoke cloud that surrounds us.
“Good answer.” He reaches into his briefcase and pulls out a small stack of papers. “Memorize everything on these, then burn them. We don’t leave a paper trail.” His eyes focus on mine as I take the papers. He’s not sure if I’m anything more than just muscle. He’s still not sure I have any brains behind the armor I wear. It’s a mistake many men before him have made.
But my brain works just fine. Even after almost drowning and bleeding out in the middle of the fucking ocean.
I’ll memorize everything on these papers with no problem. Then I’m going to get Julian this fucking drug deal and get off this fucking island.
But as my eyes skim the papers quickly, I realize Julian isn’t the man I thought he is. His soul is darker than I realized. His greed for money has no bounds. And I just walked into his trap.
Because what I’m reading isn’t something I would ever do. I’ve done some bad things in my life. Stolen. Threatened. Beaten. Tortured. Killed. But this is a line I don’t cross. I don’t traffic humans, and yet that is exactly what Julian is asking me to do.
3
Siren
Why did I end up parked in front of the biggest mansion on the island?
Because I’m stupid.
Because I’m begging to get caught.
Because I like living in danger.
Because I’d rather be trapped in a beautiful cage than continue to live in my own personal hell.
Because I’m desperate.
I consider using the doorbell, but that’s really not my style. I don’t ask for permission. I never have. I take what is owed to me, even if others disagree. And then I deal with the consequences.
So I walk around to the back of the large all-white building that is just as fake as the man who lives alone inside. The house is three stories tall and the size of a football field. Water weaves through the compound, separating the various buildings from the main house. It looks like an expensive resort, instead of where the devil lives.
I hate this house.
I hate this island.
And I’m finally going to do something about it. A plan forms in my head as I walk to the back door. I’m going to steal something. Something valuable. Something I can easily sell and use to get off this island. Something I can use to start a new life. Something I can use to hide away. Something this man won’t even miss.
Who am I kidding?
Julian will realize something is missing from his precious mansion. He lives for his things. He loves the status they give him. He’s a little OCD about it. I wouldn’t doubt he spends his nights counting all the expensive things in his mansion. They’re the only things that can tolerate living in his presence.
I pick the lock on the back door and crack it open, waiting for an alarm to sound. None does.
I’ve never stolen anything before. That’s not the kind of person I am. But I’m desperate. And if anyone deserves to have something stolen, it’s Julian Reed.
I step one foot inside, waiting for his army to descend on me. Again, nothing happens.
I grin.
This might actually work.
That, or he’ll find me and kill me. Either way, I won’t keep living with this pain.
I walk through his house, my hands tempted by all the objects in his house—the paintings, the gold-plated sculptures, the finely threaded fabrics of his furniture. All are too big for me to take. I need something small. Something that can easily be sold.
Jewelry, I decide.
I head up the staircase in search of his bedroom. I’m sure he keeps some jewelry up there.
I haven’t seen any sign that he i
s home. But Julian doesn’t scare me. He’s a fucking drug dealer who thinks he’s a bigger deal than he is. He’s a nothing—a boy playing with his daddy’s money.
And if he catches me, I’ll offer to suck his dick or something to get out. He’s a good looking man, even if he is evil.
I find his bedroom. It’s dark, and the door is closed. I lean my ear against his door—nothing.
I open the door. It creaks, but no one comes for me. No one knows I’m here.
I step inside. I consider turning the lights on but decide I’ve tested fate enough. However, I’m not good at seeing in the dark, no matter how much my eyes try to adjust. I don’t make a good criminal. I’m just hungry and desperate enough to try anything.
My hand finds the wall, and I walk with my hand against it until I reach an opening—the bathroom.
My hand trails over the counter as I search for a jewelry box, anything that contains something expensive that can be easily sold, but not easily missed.
Jackpot.
I find a box sitting out in plain sight on the middle of the counter. I flip it open and dig to the bottom, hoping to find something that will change my life.
I pull out a bracelet, dripping in diamonds.
I grin—this would give me a new life.
I go to put the bracelet into my pocket, when a hand grabs me out of the darkness.
I close my eyes, hoping this is all a dream, a figment of my imagination, my worst nightmare. That when I open my eyes, I’ll be in my bed, not here, stealing from the most dangerous man on the island.
But when I open them, I’m still in the darkness. And Julian is still gripping my hand.
“What are you doing?” he asks, his voice curious more than angry.
Think, quickly! I can find a way out of this.
I stare at the bracelet.
“I’m—” Fuck, I can’t answer.
“Are you the new maid?” he whispers into my neck. He releases my wrist, but his heavy breath has me captured. His body is pressed against my ass and back, and he sweeps my air off my neck so he can own that part of me too.