Chapter 3
Chapter Three
“You’re coming home with me,” Preston bluntly told her.
Lily blinked at him. They were in the hospital.
The dirt made her skin itch, and she just wanted to bathe.
To get clean. Crime techs had come to poke and prod at her.
They’d scraped beneath her nails because she’d explained to the deputies and to the sheriff that she’d clawed her attacker.
Maybe she’d gotten some of his DNA beneath her nails, but it would take time to get results back. If the material was even usable.
Or maybe dirt was the only thing that had been left beneath her nails.
Her clothing had been taken, and she’d been given a rough hospital gown to wear after her interview with Sheriff Debra Tooni. The sheriff had been sympathetic. No-nonsense. And determined that she would find the person who’d taken Sloane and Preston.
After the interview with the sheriff, Sloane had been left alone in one little exam room. A room with one window, a wonky light that kept blinking too much, and a place filled with the sterile scent of antiseptic.
Preston had just ripped open the door to her exam room and stormed inside. He wasn’t wearing a hospital gown. He was wearing green scrubs. Most of the dirt had been cleaned from his face.
Wickedly handsome. Diabolically so. Chiseled jaw. Perfect cheekbones. Long, straight blade of a nose. Dark stubble coated his jaw. His expression was intense and determined and…
He stalked toward her. He gripped a pair of scrubs in his hand. “Put these on.”
The scrubs were better than the gaping gown but normal clothing would have been stellar.
“Change and then we are getting the hell out of here.”
She shook her head. “Pretty sure the sheriff told me to stay. That she would have more questions for me.” She kept sitting on the hospital exam bed. There was scratchy, white paper on the bed.
“Sheriff Tooni can come and question you at my place. Debra knows where I live.”
Debra. Definite familiarity there. But then again, she’d known that. Her research had shown her that Debra Tooni had once been close friends with Preston’s adoptive parents. So this case would be very personal for the sheriff.
“Reporters caught the story.” Blunt. “They’re gonna be swarming, and we need to hurry out of here.”
Okay so, staying with him, sticking to the man like glue—achieving that particular goal was going to be much, much easier than Sloane had anticipated. “You want me to come home with you?” Just so they were clear.
“You’re not getting away from me.”
Those words of his sounded a bit ominous.
“I can take you out in the hospital gown, if you want.”
Nah. “I don’t think the world needs to see my ass. It’s great and all. I do work out, but…not needed for the reporters to get it on camera.”
He blinked.
She smiled at him. She’d used a wet wipe to try and rub some of the grime off her face. The dirt was still in her hair. Under her hospital gown. Between her toes. I want a shower. So badly.
“You’re fucking beautiful.” A growl.
She could have sworn it was…a disappointed growl. Maybe an angry one? Sloane blinked. “Are you angry about that?”
His eyes raked her. “How did Atlas Bennett know where you were?”
That question again. Time to answer the man and solve the mystery for him. “He followed the tracker I was wearing. The one in my bracelet.” She jumped off the table.
Instantly, Preston reached out for her. His hands curled around her arms.
“Unnecessary,” she told him, and she flashed him another smile. Her friend Lily never smiled. Truly, getting the woman to grin took enormous effort. But Sloane…she smiled all the time. Bright, happy smiles. Charming smiles. Disarming smiles.
Smiles that would never, ever let anyone know just how deep her darkness and pain truly went.
She’d learned to smile and hide the pain when she was just six years old.
No, I’m fine, Miss Addy. Her response to her first grade teacher. Just fell while I was chasing my dog. Totally fine. Nothing to worry about. She’d flashed her grin at her teacher. At the time, it had been a gap-toothed grin. I’ll be more careful. So much more careful. Pinky promise.
Her smile spread a little bit more as she gazed at Preston.
“You don’t have to fucking smile for me.”
She could feel the smile freezing on her face. Apparently, he did not see the charm in her smile. Huh. Maybe it was due to all the dirt still on her. Or the fact that she probably did not really look fucking beautiful. Instead, she probably looked more like fucking death.
“I am getting the hell out of here.” Blunt, hard words from him. “And you’re coming with me.”
Well, someone liked to give orders. Preston was making her plans much easier, yes, since she’d been trying to scheme a way to stay closer to him, but he didn’t have to be bossy about things.
Sloane quirked one eyebrow at him.
“Please,” he grated, and the word seemed to get stuck in his throat.
“Don’t say that a lot, do you?” A shake of her head.
“I can tell because it sounds like rusty nails coming from your mouth.” His fingers had been bandaged.
So had his forearms. “Did the docs find out what drug you were given?” The docs had run a million tests on her.
It felt as if she’d been in that hospital forever.
But, really, it had probably only been an hour. Two?
Maybe three?
A muscle flexed along his hard jaw. “They did a ton of blood work. Maybe they’ll figure that shit out. Maybe they won’t. Gonna take a while to get back all the tox screen results.” His gaze swept over her. “You coming with me in the gown?”
“No. I’m waiting for you to turn around or leave my little exam area so that I can dress. Just because you’re buried alive with a man, it doesn’t mean you strip right in front of him at the first occasion.”
He blinked. And made no move to turn his back or leave her exam area. “Why does Atlas Bennett have you wearing a tracker?”
“Why are you obsessed with Atlas Bennett?” she returned sweetly.
“Because I want to know if you’re screwing him.”
A nod. Fine. Fair question, she supposed. “Are you always this direct?”
“Are you screwing him?”
“No. I am not. See, I happen to have this very important rule that I would never break.”
He stared. Waited. Did not take those intense green eyes off her. Seriously, that color was so vivid. She’d never seen anyone else with that shade of green eyes. Usually, green eyes drifted more hazel in tone but his eyes were a true emerald. Bold. Mesmerizing.
“What’s the rule?” Preston demanded.
“I don’t screw men who happen to be married to my friends.” A considering pause. “Sort of a sticking point for me, you know? I believe in loyalty. I believe you stand by your friends. I believe you don’t fuck their partners.”
He blinked.
“He’s married to Lily. You might have noticed her at the scene. Gorgeous. Intense. She would have been the woman Atlas kept at his side the entire time?”
“The Poison Princess.”
Her stomach tightened. “I hate that moniker for her.” A chill skated down her spine. Plenty of people know who Lily is. When your mother was an infamous serial killer—the most infamous female serial killer of the current generation—people tended to focus too much attention on you.
A couple of movies had been made about Lily’s mother, Magnolia. And those movies had all featured segments about Lily, AKA the Poison Princess.
Magnolia was currently sitting in a maximum-security prison because she’d been convicted of multiple murders. Magnolia served one damn fine cup of tea. Tea that was often filled with poison. According to the stories, she’d serve her killer tea with a smile as she waited for her victims to die.
Someone else who can smile and hide the darkness inside.
“Your friend is the daughter of a serial killer.” Not a question from Preston. A hard statement.
“Um.” She did not break eye contact. “And how do you feel about that?” A careful question. A deliberate one because…
Oh, Preston, I have some news you are not going to want to hear.
“I feel like she probably hates her mother.”
Lily’s relationship with Magnolia was certainly complicated.
“I also feel like I’m about to carry you out of here, angel. The question is…are you going out in the gown or the scrubs?”
“Give me privacy. Again, I’m not stripping in front of a man I just met.”
He turned around, giving her his broad back.
“Not leaving me, huh?” She reached back to undo the small ties on the hospital gown. “Guess you got awful attached to me in that coffin.” Light words. Teasing.
“The staff had to fight to keep me from you the whole time I’ve been here.” Not light. Not teasing. Flat. Deep.
“Aw, that’s sweet.” Her hands yanked at the ties. How had they gotten stuck? She ripped. Hard. They tore. The gown dropped in front of her. “You missed me, didn’t you?”
“He’s going to come after you.”
She stopped, mid-motion, as she hauled up the green scrub pants. “Excuse me?”
“He’ll come after you.”
Sloane yanked those pants to her waist and grabbed for the shirt. In a flash, it was over her head and in place. “Hate to break it to you, but I wasn’t the target. You were. I was just collateral damage.” She found herself folding the hospital gown. Putting it on the exam bed. “Done.”
He whipped back around. “I know this MO. It’s pretty damn unmistakable, isn’t it? Especially since I’ve been through every moment before.” Tension poured from Preston’s body. “I know who this sonofabitch is. Or, at least, I know who he wants to be.”
She could not make a sound.
“The Last Breath Killer. He came after me when I was fourteen years old. He buried me alive back then, but I escaped. The authorities chased the bastard. Shot him even as he leapt into a freaking river.”
Sloane swallowed down the lump that had filled her throat.
“His body was never recovered. That was so long ago. A different life. He died back then, I know he did, but now, some twisted piece of shit is imitating his crimes. A new Last Breath Killer, trying to rise to his sick glory. He’s coming after me.” A pause. “And you.” His hands had fisted.