Mr. Rook

  “What monks?” And what the hell is going on with me?

  “It was part of the tour yesterday. Do you not recall?”

  “No one said anything about monks.”

  “I beg to differ. The staff follows a script and they always include the story of the first inhabitants of the island—Friar’s Island—the original name for the land upon which you are standing.”

  Is it possible? I looked at the phone he still held in his hand. There was no record of my calling Julie or Rick fifteen or ten times.

  Crap. Crap. What’s going on? I whooshed out a breath and scrubbed my cold hands over my face. “I think I’m going crazy.”

  “A common symptom of those who seek our island and the solitude it offers. But I assure you, Ms. Brenna—”

  “Stephanie,” I corrected.

  “I assure you, Stephanie, that no harm will come to you on this island.”

  I gave him a look.

  “Unless that is your wish,” he added.

  I waited for him to smile. He did not.

  “What kind of harm would I ever ‘wish’ for?” I snapped.

  He cocked his head to one side. “There are many forms of fantasies, Stephanie. And you are a grown woman, so I need not explain that some women enjoy a little pain when getting fucked.”

  His explicit words instantly sparked up my body. I couldn’t say I was one of those women who enjoyed pain, but hearing him talk about fucking produced a salacious image of him naked. Aroused. Hungry for sex.

  I nodded, feeling all shaken up.

  “Well, then,” he reached for the door handle, “perhaps you would like me to return in an hour so we can have breakfast and then commence with our day.”

  “I’m not hungry.” I just wanted water. Lots of water. And an aspirin.

  “I am not much for eating myself in the early hours of the day.” He opened the door. “I will meet you at the dock on the other side of the restaurant in one hour. Wear a swimsuit.”

  “Where are you taking me?” Because wherever it was, I wanted to go. Yet it terrified me. I am going crazy.

  “It is painfully aware that you require a different kind of relaxation. Something a bit more…active for that mind of yours.” His tone sounded harsh and gravelly, like he had decided I needed to be flogged or fucked properly. Or perhaps both.

  He closed the door behind him, and I walked over to the couch, sinking down before my knees gave out.

  This island, this fucking island…I was beginning to wonder if my fear and paranoia of ending up like Cici wasn’t fueling my imagination.

  No. No. I was not that creative. Point being, I wasn’t capable of dreaming up the dangerous vibe emanating from Rook or that crazy shit from last night.

  Or was I?

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Tired as hell, I made my way down the palm-tree-lined path of the bungalow area, past the restaurant and spa, down to the dock. I couldn’t get my hands to stop shaking. This was exactly what I came for; time alone with Rook. However, being in the same room felt a little like sharing a shoebox with a cobra. Only this deadly snake was the one playing the flute and mesmerizing the human: me. It was a sensation I couldn’t reconcile—fear combined with fascination. What was it about him that made me feel afraid? What was it about him that made it impossible to look away?

  As I approached the dock, I noticed an enormous black ship with a Jolly Roger on its black sail, pulling away.

  “Good job, men! Now off to plunder!” yelled a huge muscled shirtless man on deck, with an eyepatch, black beard, and a gazillion tattoos on his arms and back. Five other men, who all looked like male strippers, wearing black pirate hats and torn shirts, cheered.

  Um. Okay. I guess I could see how that might be a fun fantasy.

  “Ms. Brenna,” said a deep voice, “good morning.”

  It was a tall man with a killer tan and dark eyes, wearing a Rook’s island uniform. He was very handsome—male model material for sure—yet he still couldn’t hold a match to Rook’s sex-god-like looks.

  “Hi. Good morning,” I said.

  He dipped his head. “I was just helping our Captain Hook with a rudder issue. But we’re all set for your excursion.” He held out his hand. “I’m Tex, your captain for the morning.” He spoke with a bit of a twang. I guessed he was from Texas, thus the nickname.

  I shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, but, uh…what happened to Mr. Rook?”

  “He is aboard, preparing the gear.”

  “Gear for what?” I’d thought we’d be going on a cruise around the island or something like that. Then again, Rook had said he thought I needed something for my “active” mind. In other words, he probably thought I was cracking from stress.

  “I will let Mr. Rook fill you in, Ms. Brenna.”

  “Thanks. And call me Stephanie.”

  “As you like, Stephanie. Last boat on the right.” Tex gestured for me to go on ahead and then followed.

  It was truly a beautiful day—blue sky above and miles of calm turquoise ocean stretching out beyond the little bay.

  I can see why some might call this paradise. Though, not I.

  As we walked, I eyed the various boats tied to the dock. They all looked sleek and expensive, like something a hot billionaire might use to impress a woman.

  “So what kinds of fantasies are all of these yachts used for?” I asked. There had to be at least ten.

  Tex was about to speak when that deep, deep voice filled my ears. “Why should you be thinking about other fantasies?” Rook held out his hand, offering to help me board. “When I’ve got a busy day of activities planned especially for you.” The tone in Rook’s voice almost sounded like he planned to tie me to a rock and throw me overboard. It immediately put me on edge.

  Maybe this isn’t a good idea. As beautiful as Rook was, I couldn’t kid myself. He was not harmless.

  I looked at Tex, who smiled politely.

  “Are you coming aboard?” Rook asked, his expression surly.

  I knew I had to go with him. I had to use today to start getting answers.

  I reached for the railing of the ship, bypassing Rook’s hand so he wouldn’t feel my clammy, nervous palm.

  I scooted past him and his scowl, playing it cool. “Nice boat.” I peeked through the window, checking out the living room, bar, television, and small karaoke stage inside. “But that’s not my idea of fun.”

  “Nor mine. This is the boat we use for our karaoke dinner cruise on Wednesdays. Today, it will simply transport us.” Rook turned away, heading toward the front of the vessel, and Tex went to work untying the lines. I followed Rook.

  “So what exactly are we doing today?” I came up behind him as he opened a plastic crate.

  “We’re going to swim with sharks.”

  I blinked. “On second thought, I’ve always wanted to try karaoke.”

  “No, Ms. Brenna. We have a deal. I give you what you need and you be a good little guest and follow along.”

  That wasn’t exactly the deal I remembered. “I appreciate your warm and inviting offer, Mr. Rook,” I said sarcastically, “but I am a woman, not a sheep craving slaughter.”

  He stopped fussing with some equipment, stood up straight, and snarled down at me. “Meaning?”

  “Meaning I am not getting into a cage surrounded by a bunch of hungry, dangerous sharks.”

  “We’re not using a cage.” He shoved whatever was in his hands into my chest. “Thus the reason you’ll be carrying this and you will be with me.”

  I took the object—something inside a black holster with straps. “Wait. A knife? You’re giving me a knife?”

  “A hunting knife. It’s in case an aggressive shark shows up, which they rarely do.” Rook began unbuttoning his shirt. Then the undershirt came off.

  I stood there with my jaw slack while my eyes drank in the smooth olive skin of his chiseled chest. Then there were those perfectly ripped abs and the impressive set of third rails. That was what my girlfriends back in co
llege—Gwen and Yvette—used to call those sexy muscles on the lower torso because they had the ability to immediately stop your heart like that electric third rail on a subway track.

  I swallowed down my sense of indecency, but I couldn’t look away as he peeled off his pants and nearly took the dark gray shorts underneath with them, giving me a glimpse of the course black hair above his cock.

  Dear God. The man was unfathomably sexy.

  Rook reached right inside his waistband to fish out the strings and give them a quick knot. His shorts weren’t the least bit baggy, meaning I could see the outline of almost everything—tight hips, thick upper thighs, and a substantial bulge between his legs. Speaking of legs, I’d never seen perfect thighs on a man, but his were perfect. Lean, muscular, tan like the rest of him with a light dusting of black hair.

  “How old are you?” I muttered, without realizing it. Because his face looked mid-thirties, but his body looked twenty-five.

  Rook glanced up, taking note of my blatant ogling. “None of your business.” He reached into the plastic crate and offered me an orange life vest. “Put this on.”

  His high-handedness was seriously grating on me. “I know you’re the boss and you own this island, but would it kill you to be polite?”

  He frowned. “Put the life vest on, please,” he said like he meant fuck you.

  “Your manners really leave a lot to be desired, especially given the price I’m paying.”

  He stepped in close, pressing his nearly naked body against mine. “I’m not here to coddle you, Stephanie. I’m here to help you.”

  Huh? “Help me with what?”

  “It’s obvious that something is holding you back in life, and it’s my job to find out what it is.”

  “Oh really?” I tilted my head to one side. “You think what I need, my biggest fantasy, is to receive therapy from an arrogant, wealthy, coldhearted prick.”

  As the honest-to-God words left my mouth, I realized I’d stepped out of character. I couldn’t be insulting the guy when what I needed was to win him over and get information.

  His serious expression froze.

  Oh Christ, Steph. I opened my mouth to backpedal, but then he burst out laughing. A deep, soul-filled chuckle radiating from his stomach. He tilted his head toward the ceiling of the deck above us and let ’er rip.

  “Uh. Okay. Mind sharing what’s so funny…” It occurred to me that he had his guard down for whatever reason, and it was an opportunity for me. “Milford. Or is it Leonard?”

  His laughter slowed. “My name is James.”

  He’d actually taken the bait? Wow. I didn’t want to tip my hand and show my surprise. That said, James actually fit him. A timeless name that could belong to a tyrant or an accountant.

  Or a hit man.

  “But everyone calls me Rook,” he added, still smiling.

  “What, exactly, is so funny?” I placed my hands on my waist.

  He blew out a breath, settled, and then looked at me. “It’s been a long time, Stephanie, since anyone has seen me for what I am.”

  “You think that being called a prick is a good thing?”

  “Not at all. However, it’s the truth. One you should never forget.” He shoved the neon orange vest at me. “Now get your damned gear on, because we’ve got a date.”

  “I am not wearing the stupid vest,” I muttered to myself in the bathroom below deck where I’d gone to gather myself. “I can swim just fine.” And I hated that he’d treated me like a child. His attitude is something.

  Yeah, so is that body.

  I slid off my beach dress—a plain white, oversized tee—to reveal my white bikini. I had to remind myself that I had nothing to be ashamed of. Not so easy in the presence of a man who had been gifted with a perfect six-pack and everything else.

  “Steph, you are a regular woman with a normal body,” I told myself, looking in the mirror over the sink inside the small wood-paneled room. I had been going to school, finishing my masters when Cici went missing. My part-time job, working at the chamber of commerce in New York City, didn’t pay much, but the hours were weekend intensive. I went to conventions and sat in booths, handing out brochures and signing up foreign investors who wanted to open businesses in our area. Between that boredom and school, my exercise consisted of doing laps around campus between classes. All in all, I guessed my body was a gift from my mother—medium busted, cellulite-free ass, wide hips.

  I blew out a breath. “Don’t be ashamed. Act like you are hotter than hot.”

  Wait. Why am I getting all worked up? I wasn’t on a real date. And I certainly didn’t care about impressing this man.

  I threw my dress over my shoulder, opened the door, and marched out, crashing into a warm naked body, my face smashing against a chiseled pec.

  “Oomph!” Rook grunted upon impact, quickly grabbing my shoulders to prevent me from falling back and landing on my ass.

  “Oh. I’m so sorry. I was just going up,” I said, realizing our nearly naked bodies were pressed tightly together, skin on skin, my breasts pushed against his ribs, his bulge pressed right into my stomach.

  He must’ve noticed too, but instead of releasing me, he simply stared down, his lips making a carnivorous twitch, like he intended to pounce and eat me whole.

  “Eh-hem?” I said, eyeing his one hand pressed firmly into my shoulder. In the back of my mind, I expected pain to follow, but once again it didn’t. His touch felt warm and soothing. Of all the people in the world, my brain thinks he’s safe?

  As for him, he didn’t seem to give a rat’s ass or feel shy about our overly intimate position because his hand stayed put.

  “I was waiting for you,” he said, almost like he meant it in the romantic sense.

  My body began heating up in places it had no business doing so, including my breasts and nipples, which tightened into little pebbles against him.

  Oh, God. Through my thin suit, he had to feel them.

  I stepped to the side and separated our bodies, but he stepped with me.

  “Or you could stay down here if you like, Ms. Brenna.”

  “Stephanie,” I corrected and jerked myself away. “And no thank you.” Of course, my body—completely against my wishes—screamed, Yes please! Nevertheless, I added, “I’m not interested in sleeping with you,” for good measure.

  Rook dropped his hands and flashed a wicked little smile. “Not to worry. I do not get intimate with guests, Ms. Brenna. Not ever. No exceptions. I merely meant that you could stay here and hide if you are too afraid to try something new.”

  Now he was playing games.

  I crossed my arms over my chest to cover my perked-up nipples. “I’m not afraid,” I lied. “And if you don’t get intimate with guests, what was that just now?” I didn’t appreciate him making it seem like I was some horny woman who concocted stories in my head about men trying to hit on me.

  He ran his thumb across my chin, directly below my lip as he stared at my mouth. “I said I didn’t sleep with guests, not that I didn’t want to.” He turned for the small wooden stairway. “See you up on deck.”

  It took a few moments to gather myself after my little below-deck run-in with Rook. Honestly, he’d fucking turned me on. My body felt hot and achy, especially between my legs, which pissed the hell out of me.

  What sort of horrible person am I? This man might be responsible for Cici’s disappearance or, at the very least, he knew about it and had been involved. So where the hell did I get off having these sexual feelings for him?

  I shook my head and made my way up to the rear of the boat, where Tex and Rook spoke in low voices.

  “I’m ready,” I said, startling them both.

  Rook’s eyes swept over my nearly naked body in a not-too-subtle motion. “Nice of you to finally join us on your fantasy, Ms.—”

  “Stephanie. It’s Stephanie. And I promise that swimming with hungry, man-eating fish is not on my bucket list.”

  “I rarely misread people, Stephanie. An
d as I mentioned, these sharks are quite safe.”

  “How do you know? Did you study sharks in college?”

  “Men like myself do not go to college, Stephanie.”

  What did that mean? “Then how did you become a shark expert?”

  Tex chuckled.

  “I did not say I was an expert,” Rook explained. “I merely stated that these sharks are safe, and I know this because I grew up on this island, swimming in these waters. The only thing that might hurt you is a bull shark, which looks like an overweight great white, and those are rare. The ones you’ll see today are tiger, nurse, or black tip reef sharks. You are not on their menu.”

  More information. He had lived his entire life—or at least a good part of it—here on this island. “So did your parents buy the island?”

  “The island has been passed down from generation to generation for hundreds of years.”

  Interesting. So whatever connections Rook had with the government likely went back a long, long way.

  Rook gestured toward the water. “Now, if I’ve passed your test regarding my knowledge of the aquatic life, would you care to join me?”

  I had to go along with this. Especially now that I was beginning to learn more about him.

  I nodded. “Ready.”

  “Where’s your life vest?”

  “Are you wearing one?” I asked.

  “No. I do not require one.”

  “Then neither do I. Can we go now?” I said.

  Rook’s light eyes flickered with annoyance. “Very well, but I recommend you don’t forget this.” He handed me the holstered hunting knife.

  “Fair enough.” The thought of carrying a weapon in this creepy place actually made me feel better.

  I snatched it from his hand and untangled the straps. Meanwhile, Tex finished putting a red snorkel onto the strap of a diving mask.

  I strapped the holster around my thigh, feeling a little badass carrying such a huge knife while wearing a tiny bikini.

  Tex handed me some flippers and helped me into them. Then I put on the mask.

  “You’ll sit here on the edge of the boat,” Tex said, “and then you’ll fall back into the water. Got it?” He then showed me how to clear the water from the snorkel. I hadn’t used one since I was a kid on the rare occasion we’d go on vacation to North Carolina or Florida.