Edge of Desire

Chapter 12

Preston

When she opened the door and plowed into me, we scared each other half to death. She was dripping wet and gloriously naked, and there wasn’t a chance in hell I’d keep from pulling her close. I wanted nothing more in this world than her. She ran her tongue across her lips and that was all I could stand. My mouth crashed onto hers before I could stop myself, and she tasted like heaven. What this woman did to me was not normal. My whole body sparked to life as she pressed herself against me. I wanted to fuck her more than anything. Scratch that. I wanted to make love to her. All of her. Crazy as it sounds, that’s how I viewed it. If we ever got that far, I would worship her body with everything I had.

Her wet hair was a mess but looked so damn sexy. There was one thing that baffled me about her, and it was the crazy notion she had about her body. She thought she was fat when she was nothing short of perfect.

Before this went any further, she had to know the ugly truth. All of it. And not just the bit about prison.

When she met me downstairs, it was time to tell it all, but she stopped me before I even began. Things went in a different direction than I’d planned. She mentioned a truce and how she was attracted to me. But before we could go any further, she had to know all about me. And I told her.

I started with the DEA and my undercover role and how I served time. “After prison, there wasn’t much left of me that was worth a damn.”

“Why do you say that? Every human has worth, whether they accept it or not.”

Why did her heart have to be so large? “Because it’s true. I’ve seen too many things that people do to others without regard for human life. I’ve been the recipient of some of that and I’m not proud of what it’s turned me into.”

She cocked her head and asked, “I’m not following.”

“You will. Anyway, I was released from prison but still had to work with the cartel, doing things I’m not proud of. All for the job. I played the drug addict, lived on the streets in filthy conditions, all the time pretending I was the loyal guy who killed his sister and mother all in the name of keeping my cover valid.”

“Wait. You killed your mother and sister?”

“No, but the cartel had to think I did it for them to put their stamp of approval on me.” I pushed to my feet and paced. I’d stop, but then start again because I didn’t exactly know how to say this to cushion the blow.

“But it was your job. You did it for that, so how can you think so little of yourself?”

“Avery, understand this. I came out of prison scarred, emotionally and physically. That’s never going away, and I have to live with it for the rest of my life. Will it get better with time? I hope so but there are no assurances of that.” I’d been pacing, trying to formulate my thoughts. She sat there silent, watching. I spun, dropped to my knees in front of her and reached out with my hands. My intention was to take hers in mine, but I moved too fast.

Her hands flew up in front of her face as she cowered. I immediately pulled my arms back, regretting that move. Hell, we were both a fucking mess. “Avery, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. You have to know I would never hurt you. Not in a million years.”

She offered me a shaky smile and said, “I do know that. It’s just a stupid reaction. I’m sorry.” She tried to brush it off, but I knew it for what it was.

“It’s not stupid and you don’t have to be sorry. I think you have a mild form of PTSD from when you were attacked by that son of a bitch.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You really think so?”

“Yeah. I do. I recognize it, because, as you know, I have it too, but mine is much more severe.” I scrubbed my face. “It’s from being in prison and getting the shit beaten out of me constantly, among other things.”

“Gosh, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not okay. Don’t ever say that. No one deserves what you went through.”

I took that opening to tell her everything. I didn’t hold back because I wanted her to know it all. She had bared her body to me and I’d better be willing to bare myself to her. The most difficult part to witness was the pain reflected in her not blue/not green eyes. At times, tears pooled and slid down her cheeks. I reached out and brushed my thumbs beneath her eyes.

“Don’t shed any tears, Avery. It’s all in the past.”

“But, Preston, the things you did for your job. It angers me that you had to live that way.”

“I chose it for the most part.”

“I don’t believe that. I think you made a conscious choice to become an agent, yes. But if you could do it all over again, would you change it?”

“Hell, yes. I would’ve gone to law school and been a boring lawyer. My dad would still be alive right now.”

She squeezed her eyes together, but a few tears still escaped, leaving trails down her cheeks. I swiped them away with the pads of my thumbs.

She grasped my wrist and said, “Preston, I don’t think any less of you because of what they did to you.”

I zeroed in on her eyes, trying to read everything that was there. I saw pain, sadness, and something else that I couldn’t define. At the risk of pushing her away, I knew I had to put everything out there. If I didn’t do it now, there would never be another time.

“Avery, you’ve been put in a terrible situation. It’s because of me and for that I’m sorry. To say it’s disrupted your life is an understatement. You’ve also put a great deal of trust in me, in more ways than one, so you deserve all the truth. My life and body aren’t fit for a normal person. Not just because of what happened to me in prison. That’s part of it, yes. But, ever since then, I’ve chosen only to be with ...” This was so difficult to say. I swallowed the fat lump in my throat and forced the words from my mouth. “I’ve only been with prostitutes. I’m not worthy of someone like you.”

Every bit of color drained from her beautiful face. Her eyes nearly popped out of her head. I gazed at her for a few seconds and then stood up. Her reaction was what I guessed it would be.

“Now you understand why I see myself the way I do. You represent everything that’s good about the world and I’m the opposite.I haven’t allowed myself to be with any other kind of woman, besides sex workers, since I was in prison. You deserve much more than someone like me.” I dropped my head and massaged the ache in my neck.

In a small voice, she asked, “Weren’t you afraid of getting HIV, or other things?”

Raising my head, my eyes locked with hers. God, I hated opening up with her, giving her all the ugly details. “I was cautious and used protection. I also get tested every time, so I’m healthy, Avery.”

“I see.”

Silence permeated the air around us as I got up to refill my glass. I’d placed the bottle of wine in the wine cooler, so I was bent over, retrieving it when I felt a hand on my back. That was not a good thing. I had a flashback to my days in prison, days when I would be attacked, tied down, and then raped.

My mind and body switched into overdrive. As I stood up, my arm flew out and grabbed my offender by the throat, pushing him against the wall. The other arm locked in place over his diaphragm, cutting off his air supply. It took a couple of seconds for me to realize I had Avery in a deadly body lock. All I saw was terror when I looked at her, but she couldn’t speak because I was choking her.

“Fuck! Fuck!” I shouted as I quickly released her. She immediately bent in half as her hands came to her face and she sucked air into her lungs.

“Are you okay?”

She didn’t answer me right away. She just kept gulping in air.

“Avery, please say something. Just tell me you’re okay.”

She shook from head to toe, and I felt like a total shit. Then she did something unexpected. She straightened up and grabbed the open wine bottle. At first I thought she was going to whack me with it. She didn’t. She raised it to her mouth and guzzled it until it was empty. I’d never seen a woman do that before and I could only gape at her. When she finished it, she set it down on the counter and wiped her mouth with her sleeve.

“That’s better. Now, as for what just happened.”

“God, I’m …”

“Shut up, Preston.” Her eyes dug into mine and I never felt so awful in my life. “You really scared me. For a minute there, I thought you were going to kill me.”

My posture deflated as her words sank in. Would I have killed her? I didn’t think so but couldn’t say for sure. “I know it doesn’t excuse what I did, but it was a flash reaction. I am so fucking sorry.” I rubbed my face, and honestly didn’t know what else to say or do.

She poked me in the chest with her index finger. “Before you say another word, listen here. You need therapy. You can’t go around strangling people and using what happened to you as an excuse.”

That’s what most people told me. The therapy part. How could I possibly share my story with a stranger though? I lied and said, “Yeah, but it didn’t help.”

“Then you went to the wrong therapist. You can even do it online if you want, to make it easy.”

“When I was in prison, they would …”

Her hand came up, palm facing me. “I’m done listening to that. I know you went through some terrible times in there, but are you going to keep living your life like this, or are you going to do something about it?” Then she turned and grabbed another bottle of wine out of the cooler, looked at it, then me. “You got any liquor?”

“Over there.” I pointed to a cabinet. She opened it and took out a bottle of Jameson, then opened it and drank it straight out of the bottle. Did she have an alcohol problem? She noticed the question in my gaze.

“Hey, stop judging me. I almost died a few minutes ago. You’re lucky I’m standing here talking to you.”

She hit the nail on the head. Now, I was the one whose lungs wouldn’t work. I stepped out on the back deck to get my head straight. Would this shitshow ever end? The idea of how I could’ve seriously injured her set my guts on fire and it wouldn’t stop. What kind of man acted like this?

The cool evening air was heaven against my burning skin. I let the breeze fan my face for a few more moments before turning around to go back inside. She must’ve followed me because there she stood, leaning against the house with her arms wrapped around her midsection.

“How often does this happen?” she asked me. Her voice was no longer condemning.

“It depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether or not someone surprises me like you did.”

“What can I do to help? Other than suggest therapy.”

What person in their right mind would want to help someone who just tried to choke the shit out of them? “How can you even ask me that after what I just did to you?”

She huffed out a breath. “There you go again.”

“What do you mean?”

“You focus on the negative and not the positive. Listen to me carefully. You had a shit experience, but you survived. You’re alive to see the next sunrise, to enjoy this beautiful place, to breathe the fresh air. You should value every day and not replay your prison experience. That’s what therapy will do. It’ll help you not react the way you did. It’ll help you deal with your PTSD. I’m not making light of what happened to you in any way. But, Preston, you can’t keep living the nightmare.”

I felt her hands on my shoulders, softly at first and then she began to rub circles on my back. She had to feel how tense I was for I was coiled up like a snake, ready to strike. But her hands were magic, massaging my shoulders, then my neck, and finally my back.

“Preston,” she whispered, “can you turn around, please?”

I didn’t really want to because I was ashamed of what I’d done to her, but I didn’t want to refuse either.

When I faced her, she stepped closer and hugged me. It was an automatic reaction to hug her back, and it felt natural to have her in my arms.

“How about another glass of wine?”

Not knowing what to say or do, I simply nodded. We went back inside, she handed me the glass of wine, and asked if I was up for eating dinner. My stomach couldn’t handle food right now, so I asked if we could wait. Then she told me all about Avery.

Avery was hilarious. She had a plethora of comical stories that kept me entertained. The best one though was the story about her vibrator in the airport. It was the same one I saw in her hotel room.

”I have to meet this friend of yours.”

“Melissa? Just be careful when you do. She might put you in a wrestling hold.”

We talked about her family and how tight she was with them. She and her mom had a hot and cold relationship. I blame her for the terrible body image Avery had of herself.

“I don’t even know if she’s noticed that I’m gone.”

“Do you really think that?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Every time I was around her, all she did was tell me I was this or that, but nothing I did was ever good enough for her.”

That made me not care for her mother and I hadn’t even met her.

“She made life difficult. I never had her support like my brothers did. If they wanted to do something, she was all in. All she wanted from me was grandkids. In this day and age, who wants only that for their kids?”

“Avery?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you always ramble a lot?”

“Always, Preston.”

“I thought so.” I scratched my head. “Avery?”

“Yeah?”

“I wanted to let you know that Justin and Caroline are fine. I talked to Pete, and they’re still in their apartment with protection. Eight men tried to break into their house but were caught and are being interrogated as we speak.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Thank God they’re okay. Does that mean I can go back?”

“Not yet. We’re positive they’re still hunting me down. They’ll keep searching, so we still need to sit tight. You understand, don’t you?”

She let loose a sigh. “I suppose so.”

“Good.”

“Preston?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you ever going to tell me how you’re really connected to Justin and Caroline?”

Her question caught me off guard. There was no trying to cover it up any longer. She deserved the truth as her life was on the line as much as my own. If I didn’t trust her now, I’d have to keep her around for life. For some reason though, trust wasn’t an issue. Whatever I was getting ready to tell her, I knew for certain she’d take to the grave.

I began with the entire story of Preston Mitchell and his sister, Terri, and what really happened that night. She listened patiently, not asking any questions.

“I hated myself more than anything for ripping the two of them apart. I’d never seen two people more in love than Terri and Justin. The worst part was the aftermath. I’m sure Justin was in bad shape too. Terri was—well, she ended up in a psychiatric hospital for three months. She became so despondent and kept failing the treatments they tried. Her depression swallowed her up. I worried I’d never see my sister again. Luckily, she had a great psychiatrist who finally got her on the right track. It took a while but eventually her spark returned. Terri, or Caroline I should say, was the one who worked diligently toward crashing the cartel. It was her intel that did it. She was relentless. After everything was over, she talked to Pete and me. You met Pete at the airport. He runs the ops I’m on. Anyway, she told us she wanted to go to Charleston for closure. The only things she’d kept from her relationship with Justin were her engagement ring and the diamond necklace he’d given her for Christmas.”

Avery looked at me and said, “I remember that necklace. Justin always wondered what happened to both of those because neither was found in the car or the house.”

My head shook as I recalled that day. “She refused to part with them, no matter how much we begged her. She said we might as well kill her. I couldn’t deny her. I mean, my God, I’d already taken so damn much from her, ruined her life and nearly destroyed her in the process.” I stopped for a minute to collect myself. Even now, after all this time, it still choked me up thinking about how she had suffered. “After the op was over, and the cartel no longer posed a problem, she decided to go to Charleston, like I said, to see Justin for closure. One of the things she wanted to do was pass on the ring and necklace to him. Terri Mitchell had finally died in her eyes and those two things had been her security blanket. She thought it was time to let them be his, if he needed them. If not, he could sell them since he was the one who’d bought them to begin with. She knew in her heart she would never love another man for the rest of her life. It didn’t really matter to her if he was with someone else. Her time had come to move on. Once they saw each other and she explained what happened, they knew they had to be together. That’s why Justin moved to Seattle. Terri became Caroline Cole as part of WITSEC or witness protection. She had plastic surgery, and her identity was changed. She can never go back to Charleston, and no one can ever know. You’re not supposed to know. She was so nervous about being around you, about you suspecting something. That’s why we all acted so weird when you arrived that day. Keeping her secret is paramount to protecting her life.”

Avery rubbed her eyes, stared at me, and nodded. She didn’t say anything right away but sat in silence. I suppose she was digesting everything I’d just explained, and I was sure she despised me for what I had done to her brother. When she finally got up, it was to go in search of a tissue. She returned and sat next to me, taking my hand in hers.

“You probably know this, but the day Terri died, so did Justin. We were all so happy when he made the decision to move. It was his chance to start his life again. Now I know the truth. For whatever it’s worth, I certainly wouldn’t have wanted either of them to die and you did what you had to do. Had Justin known what was going on, he would’ve been killed in his attempt to protect her. You did the right thing, Preston. You saved both of them.” She squeezed my hand.

That tiny gesture meant more to me than I could tell her. The weight on my chest lifted a bit and I could breathe easier again. She noticed the difference, so I tried to explain it to her.

I half smiled and said, “It was all my fault, you see. My profession and what I had chosen to do. I was responsible and carried the guilt of what they both had dealt with. And not only them. My father was murdered because of me and this crazy job. And I put your entire family at risk. They would’ve gone after all of you. So, there you have it, all the ugly mess of Preston Mitchell.”