“Give me a name now.”
“I can’t. I don’t know any.”
“They’re a local institution, right? You know everything about this area, right? You know a name.”
“Please. I’ve told you too much.”
“One name and you don’t have to die tonight.”
“This is all I know. I can’t run away.”
“I’m losing patience, Dan.”
I could feel him trembling as he began to internally war with himself. He was clearly thinking that if he gave up a name, he really would have to leave town, and for good. He couldn’t decide if that was worse than dying.
I decided to help him along. I kicked the back of his knee, sending him to the ground. I grabbed his hair, pulling his chin back, exposing his throat. I kept the knife right against his jugular, ready to bleed him like an animal.
“Eli Reddington,” he said quickly.
“Thank you, Dan.”
I released his hair and he tumbled forward. Before he could even turn around, I was back out the door, disappearing into the shadows.
As I moved away, jogging at a good clip to give myself some space to maneuver in case Dan decided to call the cops, I had a bad taste in my mouth. It was unpleasant to bully a perfectly decent person, or at least a normal person. I didn’t actually want to hurt Dan, and likely wouldn’t have, but I needed him to think I was going to.
But now I had my name. Eli Reddington, member of the Broken Hearts. Apparently they were some scary, small-town cult of powerful community leaders. Scary enough for Dan the barman to fear them more than his impending and immediate demise.
As I climbed back into my car, parked well away from the bar, I realized I had more questions than answers. For example, what was a local outfit like them doing running a pirate operation? It seemed highly unlikely that they would rob a local tourist company. Unless they were specifically targeting Jonathan’s boats, but even that seemed far-fetched. They couldn’t have known that the boat was empty of tourists, and there was no way they’d attack a local boat full of tourists and risk the bad press. They didn’t want to lose the tourist dollars.
It just made no sense. Why would Dan be so afraid of them if they were so clearly amateurs? The Broken Hearts probably had years of mythology behind them, to the point where the local idiots mistook community power and influence for real power and ability.
My mind was spinning as I drove home, wondering what the next move was. The name “Eli Reddington” was my lead, but I needed to do some more digging before I could move on him.
Plus, there was the problem of Claire. All through that interrogation, I kept thinking about her sweet little pussy. She was my motivation to push this mystery further, to find out who the Broken Hearts were. I was beginning to worry she was in real danger from them, whoever they were.
I couldn’t let that happen. As much as I hated to admit it, Claire had somehow wormed her way into my brain and had lodged herself there. I kept thinking about her laugh, her smile, her perfect fucking tits, those lips wrapped around my cock, and the sweet release of coming in her tight-as-fuck cunt. I wanted to fuck her deep and sweet again and again, even though that wasn’t normally my style.
I had been looking forward to some relaxing R&R, not some bullshit local cult mystery, let alone getting addicted to my stepsister’s incredible pussy.
Then again, I was a fucking SEAL. What other men saw as a problem, I saw as a fucking challenge. I lived to do shit like that, to take care of lesser assholes and to protect people that needed protecting.
Maybe taking down some assholes was exactly what I needed. And maybe my stepsister’s incredible pussy was all a part of it.
11
CLAIRE
I woke up slowly and felt cold, though it was still pretty warm in my room. It took me a second to realize that I was missing Nate’s body, even in my sleep.
I sat up and yawned, looking around the room. There was no sign that Nate had come back with me to my bedroom and had fallen asleep in my bed. He had said he wanted to dirty up my sheets, too, though at that point I was beyond exhausted and practically falling asleep.
I remembered drifting off, surprised that he was falling asleep with me. He didn’t seem like that kind of guy.
But I wasn’t shocked that he was gone.
I checked my phone and found a ton of messages from Lydie—everything I’d been ignoring for the last day. I climbed out of bed and went into the bathroom to brush my teeth. Nate’s door was open and he wasn’t in his room.
There was a dull ache between my legs, and as I rinsed out my mouth and looked into the mirror, it hit me: I wasn’t a virgin anymore.
More than that, I’d given my virginity to my stepbrother. It was so insane it was almost impossible to believe, and yet the ache between my thighs proved it was true.