Dead Man's Isle (Harlequin Crew #2)

by Caroline Peckham

  I shook my head, looking into his honey brown eyes and begging him to see how much I meant that.

  “No. It’s not like that. It’s not about picking or favourites or anything. It’s just me and you…and them. Like it always was and yet not like that at all, and I know it’s all fucked up but I just-”

  He kissed me to cut me off and I melted into it, fisting his shirt and tugging him closer still, hoping he could feel everything I felt in that kiss and knew I wasn’t bullshitting him.

  “I get it,” he said in a low voice. “The five of us are something…I don’t even know what it is but we are. We can talk about it more later but for now I’m good so long as the you and me portion of it is still good?”

  I nodded and he kissed me again briefly as Fox yelled at him to hurry up. He jogged away from me, locking the door as he went and I gave in to the call of the food awaiting me.

  Mutt yipped excitedly and hopped up just as I was licking the last of the mayo from my fingers and I looked around in confusion as he scampered out of the room with his tail wagging furiously.

  Curiosity sank its claws into me and I followed him, calling his name and wondering what had him so hyped up.

  By the time I caught up to him, he was at the front door and my heart lurched violently as it swung open suddenly, revealing Luther fucking Harlequin in all his super psycho glory smiling at me like we were old friends. Or maybe like he was going to eat me for fucking breakfast. Shit.

  "Good afternoon, Rogue," he said casually, levelling a pistol at my forehead. "Looks like you broke our deal then?"

  I swallowed a lump in my throat, wondering if I should scream or run or just piss myself in fear and be done with it.

  "Come on, don't be shy. You and I have a date, sweetheart. So I think we should go for a ride, don't you?" he offered, his tone as cold as I knew his heart was.

  He indicated for me to follow him with a jerk of that gun and fear ran down my spine like fingers of ice. I didn't have a choice, but as I glanced at the dark van he had waiting for us, I knew I was looking at my death inside it. The glass was all blacked out and there was a duffle bag that just screamed ‘murder bag’ to me. If I got in there, then that would be it. I'd be done and all of it, us, me, them, would have been for nothing.

  Fuck.

  Luther clearly grew tired of waiting for me to move and caught my arm, the gun pressing right up against my heart as he tugged me out into the sunshine and made me start walking.

  The door was kicked shut behind me and that was it. My boys didn't even know I was missing. And yet my death had come calling at the door, dressed in ink and with a dark kind of mayhem dancing in his eyes. Luther Harlequin was a man of his word and I'd made a deal with this devil a long time ago. He'd made it clear that if I set foot back in this town then I was dead.

  He gave me a push so that I climbed into the back of the van then followed me inside it before sliding the door closed and plunging us into darkness.

  Someone started it up and drove us away, my last shot at rescue from the Harlequin boys staying behind while my destiny finally caught up to me.

  Fear took hold of my chest in a vice so tight I couldn’t breathe around it as I grasped exactly what was happening to me.

  Fuck, my life had sucked so much. I really had been a miserable bitch for so goddamn much of it, but for some reason I’d always held on to this idea of the sun shining somewhere in the distance of my future. But now that future was drifting away from me before I’d even gotten a chance to take a peek at it.

  And I might have been a dead girl walking, but I found I really didn't want to die.

  J J and Fox were having a meeting together at The Oasis clubhouse while I was banished from joining in and left outside like a naughty kid. The huge wooden building towered up to my left, a large balcony swinging around the second level and a flag hanging over the railings with the Harlequin symbol of a skull in a jester’s hat printed on it red, blue and yellow.

  Apparently three weeks in ass wound recovery hadn’t counted towards my time left out of Harlequin business and Fox wanted me to continue to prove my worth to the gang so he could decide whether or not I could officially reclaim my position.

  Luther was running late so they’d headed inside to discuss shit, no longer holding meetings at home while Rogue was there. Fox didn’t want any more reasons for his dad to come to the house than he already had, or for Rogue to start spying on conversations related to Shawn. So I guessed I was just here to work on my tan and be fully reminded that I wasn’t invited to the party.

  Fox’s attitude toward me was bullshit, but I guessed my head was clearer for the lack of alcohol, and I was sort of getting used to the daily discomfort of being around Rogue. On a fucked up level, I was kind of glad she was punishing my ass for what I’d done and that I didn’t have to lie to at least one person about it, but on another, I hated the bitch for what she was plotting. She was fucking JJ, leading him on and snaring his heart in her grip, all the while planning to open the Rosewood crypt and unleash a secret that could destroy him along with the rest of us.

  A couple of days ago I’d been in the house when JJ had dragged her into the laundry room while Fox went for his morning run. I was pretty sure she hadn’t known I was there, but when I’d gone into the kitchen for a drink I’d heard the two of them and while a part of me had been furious, jealous and just fucking enraged over it, I’d stayed there listening. She’d been moaning his name and begging for more and I’d soaked in every word, but the ones which had been playing on repeat in my head since then were what she’d panted as they’d finished. You make me feel alive again, J. It doesn’t hurt when I’m with you.

  He’d started telling her something about him not being able to get enough of her and hating them sneaking about and I’d left them to it while my gut twisted up, my heart shredded apart and I was left torn.

  I didn’t want to wish away my brother’s happiness and a small part of me couldn’t bear to wish hers away either. But then I thought of Fox and how much this was going to hurt him when it came out and I was angry again. So fucking angry on his behalf. And maybe I was angry on mine too. Because this whole thing was messed up and unfair and just so fucking aggravating and I didn’t know what to do about it or how to deal with it. So mostly I was just forcing my thoughts and feelings about it aside. But those words of hers kept slipping through my mind and they were a whole lot harder to forget somehow. It doesn’t hurt when I’m with you. So how much did it hurt when she was alone then?

  I’d been putting off something for days, and figured now was the time to deal with it as I got on my motorcycle and rode it down to my old home by the beach. The wooden building looked like it needed some serious repairs done, but while my dear Daddy was rotting inside it, I wouldn’t be putting so much as a lick of paint on the property. Frankly, I was waiting for the day he died so I could come down here and set the whole place alight. But all the while my dad lingered on like a cockroach and he suffered from his bad leg and dodgy lungs, I was happy to let the place rot with him until he finally croaked.

  I parked up my bike outside, gazing at the weed infested garden that momma would have been horrified by and the old porch where my dad’s old rocking chair sat facing the sea. The ghosts of my past clung to every inch of this place and they crept over me like cold fingers, holding onto me and not letting go.

  From the outside, the house looked kinda peaceful. I could see the potential it had once had to be a cosy home where I could have played on the beach as a kid in peace and not have feared the shadow lurking just behind me everywhere I went. I guessed some people could make any place hell if they tried hard enough. My dad’s wretched soul had coloured this place black and tainted all the good about it, and now every memory I had here was black too, living on forever in my mind to haunt me.

  I headed through the creaky gate with my gun tucked into the back of my jeans and spotted my old bike on the ground by the porch, rust biting into the metal frame
and weeds wrapped around it, never to let go. That bike had given me a quick escape from this place countless times and I guessed I owed it a lot for that.

  I pulled it out of the grass, fighting back the ivy that was determined to hold onto it as I stood it upright and ran my fingers over the flaking green paint. I leaned it against the porch and headed up to the front door, pushing my way inside as a chill washed along my spine.

  Dad was in his mouldy armchair facing the window, smoke coiling up around him and trailing along the ceiling as he puffed on a cigarette. A PBR beer can was clamped in his hand and the familiarity of the scene made my pulse quicken and my body feel smaller, like that of a child’s.

  I cleared my throat and he turned his head to try and see me, a sneer pulling at his lips.

  “That you, boy?” he growled, his voice throaty and tainted by years of smoking.

  “Yeah, I’m here,” I said, the floorboards creaking under my feet as I walked over to him where the light filtered in through the dusty window. I kinda hated that he could gaze out at the ocean and steal some peace from it.

  “Come ‘ere into the light so I can see ya,” he croaked and I indulged him, blocking his view of the sea as I gazed down at him with my arms folded over my chest. His grizzled hair was pushed back from his face and his eyes were heavy with bags, speaking of long nights of unrest. That’s the least you deserve, you piece of shit.

  “You got a look of me about you these days. I never thought you were mine but looks like I drew the short stick,” he said and my upper lip curled back.

  “That’s unfortunate,” I muttered.

  “Don’t gimme that lip,” he snapped, then reached for a piece of paper sitting beside him on a side table, an ashtray next to it crammed to the brim with cigarette butts. “Here.” He passed the paper to me and I took it. He’d been going on and on about some document he wanted me to look at for weeks, but if he wanted me to sign him over to a care home or some shit, it wasn’t going to happen. He was going to die in this house where he broke my momma and made my childhood hell. That was non-negotiable.

  I let my eyes fall onto the page and read the printed words, frowning at what this document was. “You wanna give your boat to someone?” I asked.

  “Not just someone, boy, I want you to have it,” he said firmly.

  I released a dry laugh. “No thanks.”

  “I ain’t askin’,” he snarled like he held any authority with me anymore. “I owe some docking fees and the Forks boys are gonna seize the boat from me if it ain’t moved by the end of the week. Don’t be a little prick about it, you can keep it, I just don’t want the Forks to get their greasy hands on it. That boat’s the only thing that’s ever been good to me in this life. But you need proof of ownership or they won’t let ya take it.”

  “Don’t you talk like that, old man,” I spat. “My momma kept food in your belly and beer in your fridge.”

  “Your momma was lucky I took her in, no man woulda put up with the shit I had to put up with from her.”

  I gripped his stained checked shirt, yanking him half out of his seat and was satisfied when fear flickered in his eyes. The roles had truly changed now. I was the shadow in his home, the reason he feared noises in the night. Any time I liked, I could come down here and drive a knife into his chest and be done with him. And he knew it.

  “You don’t speak about her like that, Dylan, in fact you don’t speak about her period,” I snarled.

  “Get your hands off me, boy,” he growled, shoving at my arm.

  I let him drop back into his seat, knocking his bad leg with my foot and he wailed like a dying animal, his eyes closing in agony as he rode out the wave. It didn’t feel as good as I’d have liked it to. Seeing him suffer here didn’t make me sleep any easier at night, but I knew it was what he deserved regardless, so it was what he was going to get.

  I snatched up a pen from the table as I made a decision, scribbling my signature at the bottom of the document where he’d already signed his name.

  “There. It’s mine. Where’s the keys?” I folded up the document and slid it into my back pocket as he pointed to a drawer in a dresser across the room.

  I headed over there, pulling it out and finding the key to the Josephine-Rose – which he’d named after a fucking porn star not his own wife, a fact he’d loved to taunt her over whenever they argued. It had a keyring with a photo of momma and Dylan on their wedding day and I frowned, wondering if she’d had dreams of sailing on this boat with her husband and child. He sure as shit had never taken me out on it and he hadn’t taken Momma out during my lifetime so far as I knew. The boat had offered us some peace sometimes though whenever he’d gone out on it for work or at the weekends to drink beer with his fisherman friends, leaving us at home to make the most of his absence.

  “Enjoy the silence,” I called to my father before heading out of the house and letting the door swing shut behind me with a loud bang.

  A string of abuse followed me from him, but I gave no shits, picking up my rusted bicycle as I left and carrying it out of the gate. I couldn’t bring it home today, but I rested it up beside the fence with a promise to come back for it, though I didn’t know what I was planning to do with it. The thing needed to go in the trash in all honesty, but I didn’t think it deserved that and maybe I was still kind of attached to it.

  I headed off down the beach in the direction of the small boatyard where Dad kept the Josephine-Rose, jogging up onto the jetty. A couple of security guards were there and I showed them the papers for my new boat before they let me by and I headed down to the shitty little fishing boat that now belonged to me. It could have been a nice vessel once, but its white paint was flaking off and it was rusted to shit in places.

  I climbed onto it, starting her up, surprised when the engine stuttered to life and I drove her out into the water as the sun beat down on me. I pulled my shirt off to enjoy the kiss of it and headed for the horizon, sailing her around a rocky outcrop where fish were swimming in the clear water.

  I remembered a time we’d taken Fox’s dad’s boat out here as kids and we’d taken turns climbing to the top of the rock and jumping off of it. We used to be able to spend a whole day doing shit like that, enjoying each other’s company and soaking in the sun. What had happened to all that? Those days had just slipped away between our fingers like sand, leaving us with nothing but regret and fading memories.

  I drove her off in the direction of my father’s house, cutting the engine when I was parallel to it and certain he could see me from his seat by the window.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket and I found a text from Fox as I pulled it out.

  Fox:

  Photo.

  I’d left the breathalyser back on my bike so I tucked my phone away, figuring he was gonna have to wait until I was finished here.

  I pulled my clothes off and when I was down to my boxers, I rolled them all up and put them in carrier bag abandoned on the deck which had had a bunch of old cans in it. Then I lit up a cigarette and picked up my gun, aiming it at the hull of the boat as I puffed on the smoke in the corner of my mouth.

  “Fuck you and your boat, asshole. This one’s for mom.” I fired the gun, blasting a hole in the bottom of it and water spurted through the hole, making my heart rate pick up.

  I grinned around my cigarette. I needed a little carnage in my life. It had been far too long since I’d had a chance to just be free and fucking wild. I fired another shot, picturing my daddy’s face as he saw me destroy his pride and joy. I kept shooting until the bottom of the boat looked like swiss cheese and water was pouring in at an alarming rate. I picked up the carrier bag with my shit in it, tossing my gun, phone and cigarettes in there too before knotting it up tight and tying it to my wrist. I laughed as the water rushed in up to my knees, adrenaline coursing through my veins and making me feel alive.

  I dove off of the boat before it went under, watching as it disappeared beneath the surface oh so tragically and sank down into the bl
ue, blue sea.

  I swam for the shore, enjoying the cool caress of the water as I went and made a mental note to go surfing soon. Me and the boys never had fun lately. Everything was always so serious and since I’d been shot in the ass, I’d been locked up in Harlequin House for what felt like an eternity. I made it onto the beach, walking up to my old house and smirking at my dad through the window. The look he gave me was pure evil and he shouted furiously, shaking his cane at me as he tried to get up.

  I casually walked around to my motorcycle, took the key out of the carrier bag and got on, not giving a single shit as I drove it off up the road in nothing but my wet boxers and the smug grin on my lips.

  I drove back to The Oasis and was soon laying outside on one of the picnic benches, gazing up at the fluffy white clouds with a cigarette perched between my lips and the warm air drying me off.

  “Chase?” Rosie’s high pitched voice cut through my rare moment of peace and a scowl pulled at my features.

  I ignored her, wondering if she’d just get the hint and go away as I continued to puff on my cigarette.

  “Chasey?” Rosie called and her shadow suddenly blotted out the sun as she leaned over me to look down at my face. Her bleach blonde hair swung forward around her and I could see right up her nose as she glared at me. “What the hell?”

  “What?” I asked around my cigarette, releasing a line of smoke from my lips that engulfed her. She coughed and spluttered, backing away and moving to perch her ass beside me instead.

  “You haven’t answered my calls, my texts, that email I sent you – the letter,” she whined, sounding tearful.

  I propped myself up on my elbows to look at her and she licked her lips as her gaze dipped to my chest then flicked back up to my eyes.

  “Did you even read it?” she asked.

  “What?” I asked in confusion.

  “The letter!” she snarled, smacking my leg.

  “I didn’t get any letter,” I said with a shrug. Oh wait…there was that pink envelope Eddie gave me that I used to mop up some spilled coffee on my nightstand that time. Oops.