by L. P. Dover
I couldn’t leave Emma, not when I’d almost lost her before. Being near my parents’ home was a constant mindfuck. There were too many factors closing in on me, especially with Shelly’s death. I had to find the sick bastard who killed her.
The sun was already up and I had yet to hear Emma’s steps on the hardwood floors above. Mrs. Walker was in the kitchen making breakfast when I walked in. She looked over at me and smiled. After my mother and sister were killed, Glenn had hired her to cook for me and my dad. I don’t think I ever thanked her for that.
“Good morning,” she greeted, her voice soft. “You hungry?” She handed me a plate with a large biscuit and sausage gravy poured over top of it.
“I guess I am,” I said, taking the plate. Grabbing a bottle of water out of the refrigerator, I sat at the table to eat my food. “How long are you going to be here this morning?”
She glanced at the clock on the wall. “Hmm . . . probably another couple of hours. Why do you ask?”
I finished the biscuit and rinsed the plate off in the sink before putting it in the dishwasher. “I need to run out for a few minutes. I wanted to make sure Emma wasn’t alone.”
She waved me off. “Go. She’ll be fine. I won’t let anyone come in here.”
I didn’t want to leave, but I had to go back to my house. There was something there I was missing; I had to find it. Since it was early morning, the beach was vacant. I made the walk in short time.
Everything was quiet when I entered my house. Cameron’s room was still in disarray, but I wasn’t ready to move anything yet. I kept thinking a clue was going to jump out at me, yet there was nothing. As far as I could tell, not a single thing had been taken. Glenn had had his friend at the police department dust for prints, but they couldn’t find anything.
My phone rang and I wasn’t surprised to see Glenn’s name pop up on the screen. “What’s going on?” I answered.
“Just checking up on you, son. I wanted you to know I visited your father before I left yesterday.”
Clenching my teeth, I fought back the guilt. “And?”
“His depression’s gotten worse. He really wants to see you.”
“Not until I figure everything out,” I snapped.
“What if you don’t? Are you just going to let him die without seeing you again? You’re all he has left.”
“And I have nothing,” I countered. “I’ve given up everything to do what I do. I don’t have a family like you, or a billion-dollar company. I’m alone on this God-forsaken earth.”
“No, you’re not. You have me, and it appears you have Emma as well.”
Closing my eyes, I squeezed my phone, visions of Emma running rampant through my mind. “She doesn’t want the real me,” I said, hanging up the phone. If she knew what I did for a living, she’d run as far and as fast as she could.
I took one last look at Cameron’s room before going downstairs. My mother loved taking pictures and it showed by the family portraits she had hanging on the walls. The last one we ever took was when I was fifteen. My mother and father sat in front of me and Cameron; her smiling happily, while I tried to stay cool.
Cameron had kept poking me in the side, trying her best to make me laugh. It just so happened, the photographer got me as I smiled. It was my mother’s favorite picture. Cameron looked just like her, with her bright, blonde hair and wide eyes. I was more like my father, dark hair and gray eyes.
I had no clue what he looked like now. Was his hair turning gray? Had he lost weight? The guilt plagued me every day. Killing kept my mind off him and every other fucking thing that’d gone wrong in my life. I wanted to numb the pain, but there was a part of me that couldn’t let go.
Taking a deep breath, I called Green Meadows to check on my father. I didn’t do it often because I hated being reminded of the shitty state he was in.
“Good morning, this is Lexi, how can I help you?”
I paused before responding. “Hey, Lexi. I’m Preston Hale. I’m calling to check up on my father, David Hale. Is there any way I can speak to his nurse?” Her name was Rachel Sparks, a middle-aged divorcee with two kids.
“Sure, hold on while I transfer you.”
The line beeped and it rang again. “Hello, this is Rachel,” she answered, her voice low and nasally, as if she’d been crying.
“Rachel, it’s Preston Hale. I’m calling to check on my dad.” She was never one to sugarcoat anything.
She cleared her throat and sniffled. “I was just about to call you.”
The only time she ever called was when something was wrong. I was the main point of contact if anything were to happen. My throat tightened and I gripped the phone. “What’s wrong?”
“Your father had a stroke this morning. The ambulance just took him to the hospital.” She sniffled again. “I don’t know what happened. One minute, he was fine, and the next, he started having problems speaking.”
As much as I tried to fight it, I couldn’t. My eyes burned and I could feel my heart pounding against my sternum. All I wanted to do was rip the fucker out so I wouldn’t have to feel. “Will he be okay?” I demanded.
“I don’t know,” she mentioned sadly. “You might want to go visit him. He asks for you every day.”
I couldn’t hear anymore. Instead of answering her, I hung up. Hands shaking, I tried to clench them tight, but they still shook. Why did all the fucked up shit have to happen to my family? Everyone in my life got the shitty end of the stick.
Anger boiled in my veins, and for the first time in days, I let it out. I chucked my phone against the wall, loving the sound of it crashing to the floor. I wanted to hit something so hard it’d make my knuckles bleed. I needed the pain, something I could control. Rearing back, I slammed my fist into the wall, the pain shooting up my arm. I did it again and again, growling as the pain grew more intense . . . only there was no blood. It all rushed to my head, my pulse thumping in my ears. Leaning against the wall, I slid down to the floor. How the hell did I get so fucked up?
I closed my eyes, only for them to shoot right back open as the sound of footsteps vibrated on the back deck. Funneling my rage into my trigger finger, I slid my gun out of its holster and held it in my grasp. Whoever it was didn’t belong at my house.
Emma
Mrs. Walker was persistent on me staying put at the house, but I had to find Preston. I knew where he was. To keep her from alerting him, I ate my breakfast and said I was going to hang out in my room and draw. The drop from the balcony wasn’t too high, but I copied what Preston had done the other night, and climbed down the wall. Luckily, the windows weren’t anywhere near the kitchen.
As fast as I could, I took off down the walkway to the beach. Other than a man letting his chocolate Lab play in the ocean, there wasn’t anyone else around. I didn’t know what I was going to do when I saw Preston, but I knew it was time to say something. He wasn’t going to let me in without telling him the truth.
I took the stairs one at a time up to the back porch, until a loud thump came from inside and then another, followed by Preston’s shouts of anger. My feet moved of their own accord and I raced to the door, not even caring what kind of danger I might be in. When I got to the back door, I carefully pried it open, only to stop dead in my tracks. Preston’s eyes were wild as he pointed his gun right at my head.
“Oh my God,” I gasped, backing into the wall with my hands up. For a split second, I actually feared for my life. Sneaking up on a trained killer hadn’t been the smartest move.
Preston’s eyes widened in terror and he quickly lowered the gun to the coffee table. “What the fuck were you thinking, Emma? I could’ve killed you!” he shouted.
My breaths came out in rapid pants. I had to wait for the lightheadedness to subside before I could talk. “I’m sorry. I realize that now.”
He ran his hands angrily through his hair, his chest heaving up and down. “Holy fuck,” he growled, pacing the room. “Goddammit. How did you find me? You’re supposed to be at th
e house.”
I lowered my hands and approached him slowly. “Glenn told me this was where you grew up,” I mentioned cautiously.
His whole body tensed and he froze. I could tell he’d barely slept by the look in his tired eyes. They were red, as if he’d held back tears. My heart broke for him, for his losses. The kind of pain he went through every day had to be unimaginable.
“Why would he tell you that?” he demanded.
I moved closer, circling around the couch. “I know a lot of things, Preston.” My gaze shifted to the gun on the table and then back to him. I had to get to him before he ran away. “I know about your mother and sister. And even about your father.”
He sucked in a breath and stared at me, the pain in his gray eyes making my chest ache.
I fought back the tears as I closed the distance. There were three holes in the wall just behind him, no doubt from his own fists. I was so close to reaching out to him, but he stepped away, the pain on his face turning to rage.
“He had no fucking right to tell you. It’s none of your business.” Phone in hand, he stormed to the door.
“I know what you are!” I shouted.
He stopped at the door, back rigid.
I waited for him to turn around, but he didn’t. “The night I was taken, I saw something. I didn’t understand what was going on, and it terrified the shit out of me.” Again, he didn’t turn around, so I moved even closer, almost closing the distance. “I followed you to Myrtle Beach, Preston.”
He jerked around, his expression torn. “What did you see?” His gaze penetrated right through me.
Reaching down, I grabbed one of his hands that was clutched into a tight fist and held it between my hands. I brought it up to my heart and held it tight while looking into his eyes. “I saw you kill someone,” I whispered. He looked as if he was going to pull away, but I held on tighter. “You’re not going to walk away from me. I won’t let you . . . not this time.”
“So you’re not afraid of me?” he asked, his voice guarded.
I shook my head. “Never. I’ve always felt safe with you.”
“Even knowing what I am? That I kill people?”
“I do,” I replied with a nod.
He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Flattening his fist out, his palm stretched out over my heart. I could see him opening up, and I didn’t want to divulge the next bit, but I had to get everything in the open.
“Glenn told me everything that night.”
His jaw stiffened. “That night? What the fuck does that mean?”
Releasing a heavy sigh, I averted my gaze. He pulled away from me and crossed his arms over his chest, his narrowed gaze staring daggers right through me.
“It was Glenn and his sons who took me that night. After I saw you kill that man, I’d called him and told him I was leaving town. But, as it turns out, he’d had you followed, so he already knew I was there. That’s when he, Ian, and Bryce broke into the house and took me before I could leave.”
“Motherfucker,” he growled.
I looked sheepishly down at the floor. “That’s not all,” I confessed. “There’s something else I need to tell you.” By the wild look in his eyes, he was on the edge, but I couldn’t stop now. “I know I probably shouldn’t, but I want you to find out from me first. That way you know I’m here because I want to be, not because someone willed it so.”
When I looked up at him, realization dawned on his face. He was a smart man and had put the pieces together. “Fuck me,” he snapped. “Chandler hired you to get to me, didn’t he?”
Sadly, I nodded. “I wasn’t aware of it until he took me that night. He thought I could help you. Apparently, he knew we were close in college.”
“This is bullshit.” He turned to walk out the door, but I grabbed his arm. I refused to let go.
“No, it’s not. You need help, Preston. But this killing worthless piece of shits who rape and hurt innocent people? That’s your job; it’s what you do. The world is a better place without them. I get that, and support you in every aspect. However, shutting yourself off from the people who care about you is a different story.”
He spun around. “So he took it upon himself to tell you my life story, huh? All of it?”
I swallowed hard and nodded. “He also told me why you left without a trace, that it was you who saved Janie from being raped. Apparently, she wasn’t the first of his victims.”
His eyes blazed. “To this day, I can still hear her screams.”
I remembered talking to her a few days after it happened. She ended up transferring to a different school. “She was terrified,” I murmured, “but she wanted desperately to find the person who saved her, so she could thank them. If I could do what you do, I would do it in a heartbeat.”
He scoffed. “I fucking kill people, Emma. And what’s even more fucked up is that I love it. I need it. I don’t want to just kill those bastards, I want to torture them, to make them pay for what they’ve done. I want—”
“To find the man who killed your mother and sister,” I finished for him. “You love to kill the bad guys because it helps sustain the guilt you feel. You can’t save your family, but you can save others.”
Closing his eyes, he released a shaky breath. “Nothing I do will bring them back.”
I moved closer, my body so close to his. “No, but it’s not too late for you. The Preston I fell in love with years ago is still inside you.”
Shaking his head, he averted his gaze. “He doesn’t exist anymore.”
I touched his cheek, gently turning him to face me. “Yes, he does. You are him, you just have to stop pushing me away.” My heart thundered in my chest and I could hear it beating in my ears. I didn’t want to waste another second. And so, for the second time in two days, I found myself wrapping my arms around his neck, and pressing my lips to his.
It was as if everything fired to life. I remembered what it was like to be near him, to see his smiling face when we’d talk about music. The old Preston was still there; I could feel him in the way he touched me.
He gripped me around the waist and held me to him, his mouth desperately seeking mine as I wrapped my legs around his hips. His groans made me tremble and I lost myself in his touch. Leaning me against the wall, he lifted my bra and cupped my breast in his hand. Shifting me up, he took my nipple between his teeth and flicked it with his tongue.
Closing my eyes, I moaned and held his head against me, my insides tightening. I could feel the blood rushing to the spot between my legs, making me ache to feel him inside of me. Only one gentle stroke and I would be completely lost and at his mercy.
“Preston,” I breathed, arching my back. I kept waiting for him to push me away, but he didn’t. His kisses only grew more urgent as his arousal rubbed against my core.
Reaching behind my back, he unclasped my bra, letting it fall to the floor. He stood back and looked up and down my body, his cock getting harder between my legs. “You are so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, sliding a strand of hair off my forehead. “I shouldn’t want this. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I know you won’t,” I answered him softly. “I’ll be okay.”
Slowly, he leaned forward and placed his forehead to mine, breathing me in. He was a dangerous man, yet so gentle with his touches. His hands were used to kill people, but with me they caressed and smoothed away my fears. Would it last? I sure hoped so.
My God, I’m falling for him. Just like I had all those years ago, right before he left without a trace. My only fear now was that he’d leave again and never look back.
Carrying me up the stairs, I couldn’t even see anything other than his face, his eyes staring into mine as he kissed me. “If it gets to be too much, just tell me to stop,” he whispered, his voice raw with need.
I nodded, understanding his concern, but I really wanted it to happen. “I need you to take this off,” I demanded, tugging at his shirt.
He smirked and lifted one arm. I promptly pulled
his shirt over his head and he let it fall to the floor. I ran my hands over his bare arms and inspected his body as he opened a door and carried me inside. Pulling back his comforter, he let it crumple on the ground. “It’s full of dust,” he explained, as he gently laid me down on his king-size bed.
Starting at my lips, he trailed his finger the length my neck, in between my breasts, and down to my shorts. Sliding them down my legs, he tossed them to the side. His hands were warm as he ran them up my legs, spreading them wide. I watched him slink along like a tiger, all sleek muscle and predatory eyes, as he took me in, laying completely open to him.
Sliding off the bed, he walked over to his balcony door and opened it wide, letting the wind blow the sheer, gray gossamer curtains around inside his room. The sun glittered across the ocean water as the waves crashed against the shore.
It was all so perfect.
Preston lowered his shorts to the floor and slowly climbed back on the bed. He rested off to my side, his thick length pressing into my thigh as he turned me to him. “Most people don’t know the real me, Emma. I don’t even think I know who I am anymore.”
“That’s why I’m going to help you,” I murmured wholeheartedly. “We can do this together.”
Leaning down to place a kiss on my pert nipple, he lifted himself over me, spreading my legs with his knee. Once he’d covered my body with his, he leaned on his elbows to keep his full weight off me. There was uncertainty on his face and I wished I could take away those feelings, but it was going to take time. All I knew was, I wanted him to take me, to claim me for his own—leave his mark on me.
“I love the way you look at me,” he claimed, brushing his fingers down my cheek. “I’ve never had anyone see me the way you do. That’s why I always kept my distance, even back in college; I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“I’m a big girl,” I said, kissing his fingers as he brushed them over my lips. “I think I’ve proved that by now.”