Silas (Dirty Aces MC #4) - Lane Hart Page 0,13
to be a pretty lonely existence.
At least I have experience in that area.
My entire childhood was lonely. I was sent to boarding schools where I had maybe one real friend, and the rest of the girls were awful. Then, when I came home, I was treated like a stranger by my parents, an inconvenience. They would have to reluctantly juggle their busy work schedules until I was nine or ten. That’s when they gave up and would just leave me home alone with a maid or the cook. I spent a lot of time in the kitchen, learning recipes from the revolving door of chefs, none of which could please my parents longer than a few weeks at a time before they were fired.
“You coming or what?” Agent Sheppard asks. I realize I’m still standing at the ticket window as he’s heading to the loading area.
“Yeah, sorry,” I say when I hurry to catch up with him.
“It’s fine. You don’t have to keep apologizing,” he grumbles. I can’t tell if he’s angry or annoyed with me. “Just keep up so we don’t miss the ferry and have to wait another half an hour.”
“Right, of course,” I agree, noticing the large boat is currently docked with a few people heading on board.
Agent Sheppard hands over our tickets to a white-haired man in a uniform, and then we’re crossing the ramp. Since we’re the last ones at the dock, the small crew of two or three others get the boat ready to leave the marina.
There are several built-in benches on the stern of the boat, which is where the agent lowers my luggage and sits down. I take a seat next to him.
“Have you ever been to the island?” I ask.
“Yes,” he answers curtly while staring off in the distance in the direction the ferry begins to move.
“Oh. Is it a nice place to live?”
“Yes.”
“Anything else you can tell me about it?” I ask.
“You’ll see when we get there.”
For some reason, I get the feeling that his mood has shifted. He hasn’t exactly been a friendly, outgoing man to start with, but now he’s even more curt for some reason.
Silas
* * *
It’s impossible to think of Bald Head Island without thinking about Anita. She loved vacationing here and didn’t mind getting around on the slow ass golf carts. Even though she was only thirty-two, she dreamed of buying a home on the island and living there permanently. She had plenty of cash to make it happen, but my father wouldn’t let her leave him. The controlling asshole slapped an ankle monitor on her to make sure he knew where she was at all times.
I can’t help but wonder how many other women have fallen victim to him since Anita. I should’ve stopped him sooner, but I just wasn’t sure I had what it would take to kill a man until recently, even an evil bastard like my father. Killing him was my only option, too, as there was no one I could ask for help, not even the police.
Cora doesn’t say much else on the way over on the ferry, other than to remark on what a beautiful day it is.
How she can still be so optimistic after being dragged from her life, I will never understand.
As soon as we dock, I have one of the golf cart taxi services give us a ride to the closest rental house.
The realtor fell for my whole FBI agent ploy almost as fast as Cora. It probably helped that I sent her a few thousand dollars to make her more amenable to helping me find a furnished home as soon as possible.
She even left me the codes for all three houses so I can get the key out of the realtor box. Besides, even if I wanted to rob the place of televisions or whatever else, it would be impossible to get them on the ferry without someone noticing and reporting it to the island police.
“Here we are,” the golf cart driver says when he pulls up to the yellow two-story on stilts with bright green shutters.
“This house? Really?” Cora asks as we climb off the cart and I grab her luggage. I can’t tell if she loves it or hates it.
“What do you think?” I ask.
“Yellow is my favorite color!” she exclaims as she takes in the side of the house facing us. So, she loves it. Why am I not surprised? I’m starting to think I could’ve taken her to one of the