Zeke knows exactly who he is. He’s a burly man who knows how to use his body to get what he wants. I can’t imagine a man like him doesn’t have money.
So what is he still doing in a place like this?
“Zeke, you coming?” the man on the pier asks.
Zeke nods but doesn’t stop looking through the rear of my car straight to my soul.
He can’t see me. He can’t see anything.
Finally, Zeke looks away and starts walking toward the pier.
I exhale a breath, pushing the air too quickly through my lungs, so it almost hurts to breath. And then I zip out of my parking spot, trying to put the events behind me. I can’t think about Zeke. I can’t think about anything other than my job.
But I can’t help but glance in my rearview mirror as I drive away from one of the most attractive men I’ve ever seen. A man I can’t read. Is he a good or bad man?
Who am I kidding? All men are bad. I’ve learned that lesson enough times by now. Even the good ones have an evil streak. Even the good ones will damage my heart until it is no longer recognizable. Until my heart is no longer mine.
Thump-thump.
Thump-thump.
Thump-thump.
Damn, stupid heart speeding up just thinking about Zeke.
My heart still hasn’t learned its lesson. Not that I have a heart left to give. My heart is no longer mine. I haven’t had anything truly mine in a very long time, including my own body.
But it doesn’t stop my heart from yearning. From yearning to know more about Zeke. To wondering if he could be the one—the one who is different. The one who could stop my pain. The one who could save me.
Ha—I don’t need saving. I chose this life. I want this life. Any other life would make me weak and vulnerable. My life makes me strong.
I’ve already chosen my fate. I know how my story ends.
Saving Zeke was a mistake, I know that as I watch his shadow disappear from view. He wasn’t just any sailor who wasn’t experienced enough and fell victim to the sea—he’s different. He’s going to wreck my perfect little world, blow it up in a way I’m not prepared for.
Saving a man should absolve me of my sins. But instead, saving him will cost me everything.
2
Zeke
I can’t shake the strangest feeling as I walk down to the pier. I’m not even sure what my body is reacting to. The beat-up Land Cruiser almost hitting me?
No, that was hardly life or death. The car stopped long before it got close to me.
But I can’t shake the déjà vu feeling. Maybe because I’ve passed that beat-up SUV parked along the beach every day I’ve been coming to work. And to see it actually move put me into shock. Yea, that has to be it.
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.