at either side stand empty and still, but I can’t shake the phantom brush of unrest that lingers, like the fog over the path. The tickle across the nape of my neck, as I continue toward the house that waits in the distant darkness. I have to remind myself that this place was once my home, and I am just as much a ghost here, as any other that hides in the shadows.
After rolling to a stop in front of the house, I crank the engine off and stare up at the ominous entry door. Sleeping in abandoned places isn’t new for me. Just before Russ and I found the cabin in Marquette, we were forced to sleep in some shitholes farther south, in Saginaw. Those were some of the more harrowing moments of being on the road with him. I’ve slept in the woods plenty of times, too. When we first settled in, I had a tendency to sneak out of the cabin at night, and Russ would find me curled up at the foot of a tree, clutching my father’s key, and would carry me back to the house to bed. So he told me, anyway. I don’t remember any part of that.
I hop out of the truck and make my way up to the house, and the door creaks with my entry. Another night in paradise.
Without my knife.
17
Thierry
Feet kicked up on my desk, I sit across from Luc, who smokes a cigar. The drink in my hand fails to numb the frustration of my offer having been flat-out rejected by the girl, which only stokes my animosity toward Luc.
“The girl earlier … you know her?”
“What girl?”
What girl. As if he’s ever seen a firecracker like that on this island. She’s a walking disaster, with a side of daddy issues, and Mister Magnet for the heavy baggage variety of females doesn’t know who I’m talking about.
“The one you brought in without invitation.”
“Oh, yeah.” The smile tugging at his lips has my hand balling into a fist, and I don’t even know the hell why. “Mais, she a pretty one, her. Thought she was yours, at first.”
Shaking my head, I pour another glass. Even if I’d have slept with her, she’d never ultimately have been mine, but I like the sound of it, anyway. About as much as I’d like the sound of my knuckles cracking against his jaw right now. “You tried to get her number?”
“I aksed for it, when I saw her up at da market. She tol’ me she don’ have a phone. Shame. Dat girl has trouble written all over her, and you know how much I love some trouble, me.”
Tipping back another sip, I swallow the visual of the two of them together, trying to ignore the way my blood burns at the thought. “You say she came up to the market. Any idea where she was staying?”
“Non. She seemed kinda quiet about all dat personal stuff.”
Quiet doesn’t begin to describe the way she keeps to herself, nearly as tightly as I do. Opening the drawer next to me reveals her knife tucked inside. I’ll eventually give it back to her, as it serves no purpose to me now. And it’s the ugliest fucking blade I’ve ever seen. But this time, I’d like to arrange a more personal meeting with her.
I don’t know what it is about her that has me so intrigued. She’s a hot mess with a side of crazy. Everything that would fuck up my world, where order and predictability are paramount. Even after our few brief encounters, I can tell she’s wild--a walking ball of entropy, with enough disorder to throw everything out of balance.
And still, for reasons I can’t explain, she’s stirred my curiosity.
Whoever this girl is, I want one night with her. One night of fucking, and nothing more.
One taste of chaos.
Phone buzzing beside me, I glance down at the number, find a call from Levi, and swipe it up to answer. “Yeah.”
“Julio’s on his way up, Boss.”
“Thank you.” Even if Julio is like a father to me, I’m not foolish enough to think he wouldn’t snuff me out in a heartbeat, if he ever thought I crossed him. So I’ve alerted my staff to inform me if ever he arrives unannounced. Men like Julio and I have no real love for each other. No true allegiance.
Allegiance to anyone in this game is just damn foolish.
Not only that, I surely don’t need him to set his sights on