Vadim
Preston's been very quiet since our conversation over breakfast. It didn't go as badly as it could have—no one raised their voices—but it also wasn't smooth sailing either. He's not happy with me, but he hasn't flat-out told me to go fuck myself. I'm taking that as a partial win.
I don't want to pull back from him, but TT and EBB are right, mixing business with pleasure rarely ends well.
I have a job to do and that's what I'm going to focus on.
Once I've handled Farkas and can be certain Preston is out of harm's way, then…
then…who knows? Maybe then I'll say something about how I feel, make a complete idiot of myself, and most likely never see him again.
We pull up outside his house, and again, I'm struck by how crappy it looks on the outside compared to how nice I know it is on the inside. The nice inside part now makes sense since learning Ellie is an interior designer, but surely they could afford to live in a place that's a bit nicer.
Or maybe not?
Reno is an affordable city but, like everywhere else, costs have been going up.
Maybe I'm a clueless prick who's never had to worry about money and doesn't know the first thing about making ends meet when you have to cover all your costs yourself with no rich daddy to fall back on or to bail you out.
"Thanks for the ride," Preston says politely, unbuckling his seat belt.
I do the same and reach for him as he goes to open the door. "Pres."
"What?" There's something burning in his eyes, something different from the desire that was in them last night.
Anger, if I had to guess.
Keep it professional.
"Nothing. Let me help you with your bags."
"Thanks, but I'm fine."
I ignore him and beat him to the trunk, taking both bags out but only handing him one. He harrumphs but doesn't challenge me any further, taking the bag I gave him and heading toward the house.
It's an overcast day, which is rare, and it makes the vibe between us even weirder. Out of place. Like this isn't how we're supposed to be.
"I know you're not happy about the arrangements I've made, but they're only until the threat passes."
"Which will be when?"
"Soon."
"How soon?"
"As soon as humanly possible. I can't give you an exact date."
"Right."
"Look, Pres—"
There's an explosion of sound, a boom that doesn't sound like anything I've ever heard before. The house goes up all at once, a wall of heat and noise hitting us before either of us has a chance to process what's happening.
The windows and front door blow out, glass and wood and fire erupting outward in every direction. The fire mushrooms up through the roof, ripping it off violently. The ground shudders under our feet as the whole structure collapses in on itself.
Preston drops his suitcase and starts running toward the house. "Ellie! Ellie!"
Fuck. There's a car parked in the driveway.
Well, there was a car. It's up in flames now. I catch up to Preston and drag him back away from the firestorm. He fights me, trying to shake his arm free, only stopping when another explosion—most likely the fuel tank in the car—shakes the ground beneath our feet for a second time.
I secure him in my grip, my arm slung across his chest, and move us away, putting distance between us and the heat coming from what's left of his house. He fights me every step, screaming Ellie's name so loud his voice breaks.
Managing to get him back to my car, I pin him against the side of it. His face is wild, eyes wet, staring in shock and horror at the burning house.
"Ellie's inside!" he yells at me.
"Listen to me…"
He starts screaming past me. "Ellie! Ellie!"
"Preston, I need you to listen to me."
We're not safe out here, and there's nothing either one of us can do for Ellie right now. If he was inside when it went up, then he's gone. That's the brutal truth of it.
Preston finally stops yelling and looks at me.
"We have to get out of here. It's not safe."
I wrench the passenger door open, and right as I do, he tries to make a run for it. I lunge and catch him by the back of his shirt, shoving him into the SUV a little rougher than intended, then slam the door.
Keeping a close eye on him as I race around to the driver's side, I half expect him to make another break for it. But when I jump in, he's still there.
On his phone.
Desperately calling Ellie, I assume.
"Pick up, pick up, pick up. Come onnnn!"
I floor the accelerator, and we lurch forward, the SUV fishtailing before the tires find grip. In the rearview, the house is now fully engulfed, a column of fire and black smoke rising into the gray clouds above. Neighbors are spilling onto the street, the scene drawing people from every direction.
"Fuck! Why isn't he picking up?"
He tries again, tapping the door impatiently as he waits for his best friend to pick up.
"Preston," I say softly.
"Don't," he rasps. "Don't say anything. I don't want to hear it."
I keep my mouth shut, grit my teeth, and try to figure out where the fuck we should go. I'm pretty certain we're not being followed, but I don't want to be out in public one second longer than we need to be.
If this is Farkas, I have severely underestimated him and the threat he poses. I cannot afford to make another mistake.
"Come on, come on, come—Ellie?"
I slam on the brakes.
The asshole behind me blares his horn as I veer into the curb. He yells something as he passes, but I couldn't give two shits about that. My full attention is on Preston.
"Where are you?" A pause, and he sags into the seat, his hand on his chest, exhaling. "Ohmygod, I thought you had died."
"Where is he?" I cut in.
"Where are you right now?" Preston asks then listens. "He's on Park and Sixth."
I take off again. "Tell him to stay there. We're on our way to pick him up."
Preston relays the message, adding, "I'll explain everything when I see you.
Don't move, okay?… Yeah, I'm with him. No.
It's nothing bad. Okay, it's actually really bad.
But you're alive, and that's the main thing…
No, I'm not high. Just trust me, it will all make sense once I explain everything. Hang tight, okay? We're not far away."
Preston hangs up. I'm going way over the speed limit, so I can't afford to take my eyes off the road for a second. All I can hear is him breathing properly for the first time since the explosion.
"Ellie had a bad night's sleep and the flight from hell, so he went for a run when he got in," he explains, his whole body sagging in relief in the passenger seat.
"Good thing he did," I say, slamming the steering wheel with my palms as the idiot in front of me breaks at a yellow light. "That run just saved his life."
"What the hell is going on, Vadim?"
We take off again.
"I don't know. This has escalated way more than I thought it would."
Since I'm forced to keep to the speed limit thanks to the goody-two-shoes driver in front of me, I steal a quick glance at Preston.
He's a mess, tear-stained cheeks, his bruises paler but still visible, his hair sticking out in all directions. At the same time, he's so fucking beautiful it hurts.
"Do you now see why I need to put protective measures in place?" I ask.
He's frowning hard. "I don't get it. If someone is out to get you, why are they taking it out on me?"
"That's a good question," I mutter, jabbing the gear shift with my thumb. "I have no idea."
That's, strictly speaking, not entirely true. I have a sneaking suspicion I know precisely why Farkas is targeting Preston and not me directly. And it all comes down to my big brother and his choice of wife.
"There he is!" Preston points to Ellie on the sidewalk.
I flash my lights so he sees it's us, and he makes his way over.
"Hey, Preston," he says when he gets in.
Preston twists in his seat. "Ohmygod, I am so happy to see you."
"Ellie," I greet him cordially, making sure I speak loud enough so he can hear but without making it a thing.
He mumbles something under his breath that could be 'Vadim' or 'Fuck off.' Either or.
He buckles in as I take off and shifts forward in his seat to be within hearing range of Preston. "What's going on? Why were you so panicked on the phone?"
"Our place just got blown up."
"What?"
"Vadim dropped me off. We were walking up toward the house when, boom, it just went up. Your car was in the driveway, so I thought…"
Preston chokes up, knuckles pressed to his mouth. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ellie's hand rub his shoulder.
"It's okay, Pres. I'm here. We're both safe. That's all that matters."
I've been shot at with less discomfort than Ellie's eyes, which are currently drilling into me.
"Let me go out on a limb here and guess, is this because of you?"
"Ellie, don't."
"No, it's okay, Pres." I cut my eyes briefly to Ellie and stare him down. I'm not even mad about his accusation since he happens to be right on that front. I'm staking my claim here, even if nobody else in the car realizes it. He's not the only one who gets to call Preston Pres.
"Yes," I reply firmly.
"I fucking knew it. What did I tell you?" Ellie taps Preston's shoulder. "He's bad news."
"He's not."
"Our home got blown up, and we almost got killed. Don't remember that being an issue we had to deal with before he turned up."
Preston blows out a long breath through his nose and stares out the window.
We come to a stop at a red light, and I'm tempted to turn on the radio just to fill the air with something other than tension and loathing. Then again, a Katy Perry song could come on. Think I'll stick with tension and loathing.
"Where are you taking us?" Ellie asks, shifting back into his seat.
My hands tighten on the wheel. "Somewhere where I know you'll be safe."