“But I loved you too,” I whisper, squeezing my sister’s hand. “I loved you more than anyone in the world. Why wasn’t that enough?”
“You’ll see one day,” she smiles sadly, “When you meet someone who understands you, accepts you fully, makes you feel like you’re the most incredible, gorgeous, irreplaceable person on the planet...you won’t be able to live without him either.”
Devlin’s face flashes before my eyes at Juliet’s words. His understanding, his insistence of my value and worth...is that the kind of acceptance she’s talking about?
“Is that what the whole Circle of Death family gave you?” I ask softly.
“Well, one member in particular,” Juliet smiles, sensing my heart warming to her at last. “His name is Packer. The second I started hanging around with the MC, we paired off. There was never any question. He was the first person who just got me, knew what I wanted, what I needed. Just like that. We’ve been together for years, now.”
“So, this Packer. He’s your boyfriend, or...?” I ask, totally unversed in MC terminology as I am. “Sorry, I don’t really know how these things work in your world. I barely even know how dating and shit works in my world.”
“Actually,” Juliet says, taking a deep breath, “Boyfriends and girlfriends aren’t really a thing in the MC life. Most girls who hang around the club are just sweet butts. Like groupies, almost. Any of the guys can sleep with them, party with them, whatever. But if a brother wants to make a girl his own, she becomes his old lady. That means she’s off limits to anyone else. It’s like being a wife, in club terms. And sometimes old ladies become actual wives, too.”
“Wait. Are you...Packer’s actual wife?” I ask, my eyes going wide.
Juliet turns her back to me, and I see the words scrawling across the back of her cut: Property of Packer.
“I am,” she smiles, turning back to face me.
“You’re married?” I ask again, taking a step away from her.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, “I thought you’d be happy about it. It’s such a normal, real-life thing to do—”
“You got married without me there. I wasn’t at your wedding,” I cut her off.
“Well, no...” she allows.
“But we pinky swore that we’d be each other’s maids of honor,” I blurt out, knowing full well that I sound like a ten year old. “We were going to pick out our dresses together, and throw surprise bridal showers...I mean, I wouldn’t want any of that pink, frilly shit now either, but you didn’t even let me know your wedding was happening!”
“If it makes you feel any better, no one was there except for the justice of the peace and a couple of witnesses,” she says. “You didn’t miss much.”
I don’t even know what to say. I have so many questions about Juliet’s life over the past six years. But even if we had much longer than a week to catch up, I’m afraid that the rift between us is just too vast to traverse. Most of the reason I took this assignment was to find my sister, connect with her again. But what if that connection is simply...impossible?
“So...” Juliet says, sitting down on a flat boulder overlooking the sea. “Now that I’ve dropped that bomb on you, do you mind if I ask how the hell it is that you ended up out here?”
My stomach flips over at her question. What, is she reading my mind or something? We were always borderline telepathic when we were little. Does she suspect my ulterior motives for staking out this depraved island paradise, not to mention her new family?
“Um...Well, I heard some girls from my school talking about this place,” I say, sitting down beside her, “And I asked if I could come along. See what it was all about.”
“But you were never into this kind of stuff,” Juliet points out.
“You never knew me past the age of sixteen. You don’t know what I’m into,” I reply.
“Yeah, OK,” she laughs, nudging me softly, “So you’re telling me that my little sister, the straight-A student, mathlete, star of the soccer team, straight-edge good girl suddenly developed a taste of bikers and bedlam?”
“Sure. Why not,” I reply, dodging her question.
“Color me shocked, then,” she shrugs, “I hope you don’t mind my saying so, but you still don’t seem the type to seek this out.”
“I’m having a pretty good time so far,” I tell her. And that’s not a lie, either. Sure, I never intended to get stuck out here, but now that I’m in the hands of Devlin Vile...I may not mind this whole stranded on an island thing so much after all.
“I just worry that you might get in over your head without even realizing it,” Juliet insists. “I mean, Christ, did you seriously spend the entire night with Dev?”
Again, the mind reading thing is too creepy. “Yeah,” I tell her, pulling my knees into my chest, “Yeah, we hit it off as soon as I got here.”
“You and Devlin Vile hit it off,” she repeats, narrowing her eyes at me.
“Is that so impossible to imagine?” I ask, annoyed by her scrutiny.
“Kind of,” she laughs.
“Why, because I’m not sexy, or interesting, or wild enough to snag him?” I press.
“I’ve known Devlin a long time, Logan,” Juliet says, trying to choose her words wisely. “He’s not exactly the caring, gentle type.”
“I’m perfectly aware of what type of guy he is,” I respond, a bit heatedly.
“Trust me. You don’t,” Juliet insists, “Not after one night. Devlin is one of the most viciously loyal, ruthlessly principled outlaws I’ve ever met in my life. He’s one of my best friends, and I love him like a brother. But he can be fucking dangerous too, Logan. And he’s never been one for keeping the same girl around, night-to-night.”
“You don’t think I can hold his interest?” I demand.
“I don’t think any woman can,” she shrugs.
“Well, what if I told you that he’s promised to look after me for the week?” I shoot back.
“I’d ask you what he’s expecting in return, and whether you’re really willing to give it,” Juliet says pointedly.
My cheeks glow red as I remember my exchange with Devlin earlier today. The terms he laid out for me: A week with him in return for absolute submission.