“No,” I retort.
He shrugs, not caring if I agree or not.
“Maybe that’s ’cause you want to keep ’er. But women like that don’t want to be kept.”
“Isn’t that what you want?” I fire back, arching a brow. “To keep her?”
Something flashes across his eyes, an emotion that’s gone before I can place it.
He smiles, revealing blackened teeth.
“Ain’t no sense in keepin’ something that stays willingly. I don’t like possessin’ things, not unless I have to.”
My brows knit. “I don’t think I like what you’re implying.”
He shrugs again. “That’s ’cause you don’t like that she might actually choose me over you.”
What the fuck?
Fury is building in my chest, but instead of releasing it, I pick up my drink and take another sip, staring at him over the rim of the glass. He’s banking on my anger, I can fucking see the anticipation crinkling his eyes. He wants me to snap, so he has the excuse to kick me out.
“Guess we’ll see,” I murmur, holding his stare as I finish off the drink. “Want me to put in a good word for you while I’m in bed with her tonight?”
His features slacken, and his chin dips as he glares at me with a look so ice-cold that it burns. That’s not the type of cold that frosts your insides, it’s the type that blackens them.
”Don’t be inappropriate, son,” he warns. “You should learn some respect. No wonder she runs from you.”
I nod my head, a slight grin slipping free. It’s not very often I feel the urge to smile. But on those rare occasions when I do, it’s because a certain type of madness is being unleashed.
“I know how to catch her,” I drawl, then I glance down at his wooden leg. “Can’t say it’d take much to get away from you,stronzo.”
Despite what many would believe, I’m not one to fight. Most aren’t stupid enough to push me to that point, and I’ve never fucking cared enough to get that angry anyway. Yet, at this very moment, I’m imagining the different ways I could make Sylvester squeal like the pig he is.
And as much as I want to, I know better than to risk getting kicked out more than I already have. I need Sawyer somewhere warm and safe; this place is only safe as long as I’m around. I’ll be fucking damned if I leave her alone in this lighthouse with a goddamn lonely creep. I know the sick fuck jacks off to the thought of her, and if I ever hear or see it, I’ll remove the useless appendage my-goddamn-self.
I push away from the counter and walk past him, glaring down at his much shorter stature as I pass. He keeps quiet, even as I climb the steps.
But I don’t miss his muttered words right as I reach the top.
You haven’t been able to yet.
Sawyer is dressed in a t-shirt and her bathing suit bottoms when I walk into the room, curled in a tight ball with her back to me.
Careful not to wake her yet, I grab the lighthouse book lying haphazardly on the floor. She reads it every night before going to bed, and every morning when she disappears to her cave, I do the same.
We’re both quietly determined to find the beacon. I would guess she doesn’t trust Sylvester any more than I do. There’s something off about him and this crumbling lighthouse. Too many people have died here, and the common denominator for those tragic events seems to be Sylvester. And I’m less inclined to believe it’s simply bad luck.
Now that he’s taken an interest in Sawyer, I’m even more determined to get her off this damn island.
Just as I sit on the edge of the bed to read, Sawyer’s soft voice pipes up.
“There was a boat yesterday.”
My head snaps to her quick enough to break it. “Come again?”
“It was too foggy for them to see us. But ships come by here more often than he implied, and I think if we find the light, we can figure out a way to get their attention next time. At the very least, I’m sure you have people looking for you. Maybe we can see about reaching out to one of them to rescue you.”
My brow furrows, and I stare at her while I process what the fuck she just said. She’s staring sightlessly at the stone wall, and it feels like looking at the real Sawyer. The one who isn’t as bright and chipper as she would like people to believe.