Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 81767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Fiora and Storee move toward the heart of the dance floor, their bodies swaying sensuously to the hypnotic rhythm. The pulsating lights cast flickering shadows across their faces, accentuating the alluring curves of their figures. As they dance, their movements become more fluid, more intimate, a tantalizing display of feminine power and grace.
Locke approaches our usual owners’ booth we always sit at, whiskey in hand. I was the first to arrive, Merrick and Soren not at the club yet.
Locke sidles up beside me, his gaze fixed on the two women. “I swear, Storee’s going to be the death of me,” he murmurs, taking a sip of his whiskey. “I questioned letting her come tonight.”
Locke’s gaze is transfixed on the two women, his knuckles white from gripping his glass. Tension radiates from him, a primal hunger simmering beneath the surface. It’s no secret that he harbors a fierce desire for Storee, one that borders on obsession.
The air is thick, a heady brew of lust, possessiveness, and the ever-present undercurrent of danger that permeates our lives. Fiora and Storee are oblivious to the storm growing around them, lost in their own intoxicating world of forbidden desires.
“I want to wait until Merrick and Soren get here,” I start, “but we have a problem on our hands.”
Locke doesn’t take his gaze off his girlfriend, but he’s paying attention to my words at least. “Problem? With what? The Vault?”
“No. I have information.”
Across the room, Merrick and Soren slip through the array of revelers, their eyes instantly drawn to the display of people either fucking or coming damn close to fucking all around them. The night is getting off to an early, lust-filled start, and it will end with another hunt.
“Looks like the night’s already off to an interesting start,” Soren murmurs as he slides into the booth next to me, his voice a low rumble that barely carries over the pounding bass.
Merrick offers a wolfish grin in response, his eyes never leaving Fiora and Storee’s undulating forms. “You let your woman come out and play?” he asks Locke, who doesn’t seem the least bit amused.
I lean back, taking a sip of my drink as Merrick and Soren settle in and order their drinks.
“Gentlemen, we have a situation,” I begin, my voice low and measured. “Storee’s friend Fiora. She shouldn’t be here, not with the information I know about her.”
Soren’s brow furrows, his gaze shifting from the dance floor to me. “What information?”
The music seems to swell, the bass vibrating through our bodies as I lean forward, my expression grave. “She’s a Godwin.”
Locke’s stare shifts from Storee to me. “Explain. What do you mean she’s a Godwin. Her name is Fiora Delaney?”
“Fake name. And why she is hiding the fact that she is Hector Godwin’s daughter, I’m not sure.” I continue to watch her dance like she doesn’t have a care in the world. “But the Godwins are looking for her. She disappeared one night, and though the Godwins are keeping it on the down low, Hector currently has a missing daughter.”
Beneath the surface of her captivating dance, a dark undercurrent lurks, a truth that threatens to shatter the illusion of carefree abandon she radiates.
Heathens Hollow is a place where secrets run deep, and the line between reality and nightmare is often blurred beyond recognition. Fiora wouldn’t be the first person to hide away on this island, running from her demons. She most certainly isn’t the first ghost to walk our shores, a person determined to simply disappear in the fog of our banks.
“She’s a goth girl with a septum piercing,” Soren says. “No way is that a Godwin. They are all snooty rich fucks.”
“I agree. No way is she a Godwin. The Godwins know everything, and they most certainly would know if one of their own was living in some crappy cottage. Why would she choose Heathens Hollow to hide? The island is owned by the Godwins. Why?” Locke returns his gaze to the dance floor.
I lean back, taking a sip of my drink as I gather my thoughts. “Hiding in plain sight.”
“She does catering for the Godwins. They’d recognize her,” Soren points out.
I shake my head. “There are two branches of the mighty Godwin tree. One has the patriarch as Troy Godwin, and the other branch—the Poseidon branch—is Hector Godwin. Those brothers haven’t spoken or interacted in decades. Fiora would be cousins with Apollo, Athena, and Phoenix, but they wouldn’t know each other. Fiora would be a stranger to them.”
“Hiding in plain sight,” Soren parrots. “If she is on the run, the people looking for her would never think to come here. Smart.”
“She didn’t even change her first name. Bold,” Locke adds.
Merrick’s eyes narrow, his jaw clenched. “Or stupid. Are you certain it’s her? How would you even know what she looks like?” Merrick turns to Soren. “You used to work for the Godwins. Do you recognize her?”