Moonstone: Gems of Wolfe Island One

“No. No. I’ll just meet you, like we decided last night.”

“Okay. That’s all I wanted to say.”

“All right, Luke. Thanks.”

Thanks? For what? For making a complete idiot out of myself?

I’m acting like I’ve never spoken to a woman before, when in fact…

Except all of that was then.

All of this is now.

“Bye, Katelyn.”

“Bye.”

I cover my head with the Yankees cap. I don’t even follow baseball.

My shirt is long-sleeved. It’s fall, of course, and I haven’t yet begun the tattoo laser removal process. What if someone recognizes the ink? Until I can find someone I trust to do the job, I need to cover my left arm. Even in warm weather, I wear long sleeves.

It sucks.

But it is what it is.

I drop to the floor and rattle off a hundred pushups.

Then I shove my phone and my wallet into the pocket of my sweatpants, and I’m off.

13

Katelyn

I spend the rest of the day on my laptop, searching for and applying for work. I’m not qualified to do anything. The escort lie that I told Luke came off the top of my head. I was hardly an escort on the island. I was property.

Growing up in LA, I learned all about escort services. My mother even worked as an escort for a few years. That’s how she met my father.

She claims she never had sex with her clients. For a long time, I believed her.

Now? I’m not so sure.

My phone buzzes.

So strange. It’s my mother. She always seems to call me when I’m thinking about her. Kismet? Or just bad-ass luck?

“Hi, Mom,” I say into the phone.

“Hi, honey. I’m just checking in.”

“You checked in two days ago,” I say dryly.

I don’t mean to be rude to her. I don’t. But I was gone for nearly a decade. They stopped looking for me. They assumed I was dead.

I shouldn’t blame them. They never could have found me anyway. The only reason the island was exposed was because the owner, Derek Wolfe, was murdered and all of his kids were implicated. They fought hard to prove their innocence, leaving no stones unturned. One of those stones turned out to be Treasure Island.

Derek Wolfe was an interesting man. He helped train the women before they came to the island, but he never hunted us or violated us at the actual island. Yet he facilitated others to do so.

He had two soft spots. Diamond, our “housemother,” and his daughter, Riley Wolfe.

Riley came to the island sometimes. Every once in a while I or one of the other women would catch sight of her.

All that time, Derek Wolfe never touched any of us…but he was doing unspeakable things to his own daughter.

Acid pools in my mouth.

“Baby, Dad and I really want you to come home.”

“We’ve been through this, Mom.”

“But we missed so much of your life. And you need to be with people who love you.”

“I need to be alone for now. We’ve been through this,” I say again.

“We know what you’re going through.”

I hate those words. I hate those fucking words so much. My mother has no idea what I’m going through. She thinks she does, but unless you’ve been held captive, tortured, raped, and hunted, you don’t know.

Sorry, you just don’t.

“Mom, please. You don’t.”

“Well…not specifically, but you know I’ve been through…”

I tune her out.

Her mother spanked her. Her daddy wasn’t there for her.

Blah, blah, blah.

Life is rough when you’re born into the upper middle class in LA. So rough that you find work as a high-paid escort and snag a tech millionaire from Brooklyn.

Blah, blah, blah.

I move the phone away from my ear and hit speaker. My mother will jabber for another two or three minutes before I can even attempt to get a word in.

While she’s yammering, I get a text. From Luke.

Seven p.m. at Biscotti’s. Can’t wait to see you.

My heart skips a beat.

What have I gotten into?

I shouldn’t be having feelings for anyone, especially not some man I just met.

I should never have let that kiss happen.

But oh…how I want to experience it again.

Maybe I can still catch Macy. It’s nearly noon. She said she’s here every morning. Does that mean she leaves at noon? Or has she already left?

It’s worth a shot.

“Mom,” I say.

Farrah continues yammering.

“Mom.”

“Mom.”

“Mom!”

Finally she stops talking. “Yes, Katelyn?”

“I’m really sorry, but I have an appointment, and I’m running late.”

“Oh…of course.”

I’m not immune to the soft scoff in her voice. She’s put off that something else might be more important than talking to her.

And she wonders why I don’t want to go home to LA?

I roll my eyes.

“I’ll talk to you soon,” I say. “Love you. Bye.” I click off the phone, shove it in the pocket of my jeans, grab all my keys, and head downstairs.

As I walk off the elevator, I spy Macy walking toward the building entrance.

Shit. She’s leaving. I guess it can wait—