Chapter 11 | Preston
ELEVEN | PRESTON
“Absolutely fucking not.” Carter crosses his arms over his chest in defiance, not bothering to keep his voice at an inaudible level.
Kate peeks up from her knitted fingers in her lap from the accent chair she’s sitting on in one of the guest rooms at the estate.
Her new home for the next month.
She hasn’t spoken to me since I told her I was going to leave Rowan’s body in that room. I may not have delivered the final blow to his life, but technically, he’s still dying by my hand as he goes in and out of consciousness from blood loss.
Pretty anticlimactic if you ask me.
I inwardly groan. I fucking hate not finishing things.
On second thought, I could have Imogen fix him up so I can play with him more; keep him in the cells under the park so I can drag out his sentence.
Kate is just another distraction I have to deal with, which is why I’m trying to hand her over to Carter, who is irritatingly trying to hold his ground. He knows I’ll win this battle no matter how persistent he is about protesting.
“I have enough shit to deal with as it is. You know that. All I’m asking is that you keep an eye on her.”
“Babysit,” he growls. “You want me to fucking babysit.”
Kate stands from the chair. “I can hear you, and I’m not a child.” Her eyes snag on the expansive yard, lit up in the night through the massive windows.
She glares out as if it's the first time she’s seeing the impeccably mowed lines across the grass, patio, and the blooming garden beds.
It isn’t. She was so zoned out and lost in thought when I drove out of the entrance to the tunnels, located in one of our armory buildings, through the trees.
I sped across the yard, and then I ushered her inside through the back door quickly, like I was a teenager sneaking in a girl behind my dad’s back for a quick fuck.
This three-story estate is elegantly ominous enough to stop most people, but it was evident that her exhaustion and fear from the last few hours had taken a toll on her. She followed me like I had an imaginary leash hooked to that pretty little neck.
An idea triggers.
I ignore her, turning my attention back to Carter, who’s fuming enough that I wouldn’t be surprised if smoke starts curling out of his nose.
“You’ve got to be fucking with me, Preston.
Do you think this is the best use of my time, given that these shipments are going missing? You know I’m more useful than this!”
Placing my hands on my hips, I turn away from Kate so she can’t read my lips. My voice lowers. “Will you calm your ass if I tell you that my reason for keeping her under surveillance is because I think she’s related to this damn mess?”
His brow quirks at that.
“Remember when I got on the boat the other day when we took inventory, and I said I found someone on our dock?” I refresh his memory.
His tone softens for the first time since I called him into the guest room, but it still contains that dangerous edge.
“That’s her? And you found her in the tunnels?
” My sharp nod has him muttering, “Fuck.” He drags his fingers through his mussed hair in contemplation.
“Yeah, I’ll keep an eye on her. If it will help. ”
“I have an idea to keep track of her. Just give me some time.”
His probing gaze is trying to pull the information out of me. I don’t let up. Not when I know Kate’s listening to our every word.
Carter’s mouth pulls up at the corners. “You’re losing your edge, deartháir.” I know he’s serious when he calls me brother like that.
My father and I only speak Gaelic when it's necessary—when words need to be exchanged between us in public.
Carter may not have Irish blood, but he made it his duty to learn the language to prove his loyalty and dedication, after Arden gave him a roof over his head and a financial status most would kill for.
The artery in my chest jumps. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Mhmm. Then I’m sure you won't mind if I suggest we solve this little issue in the morning when the boats head out. I mean, you do remember what happened the last time a park employee found themselves in the tunnels?”
The reminder screws and twists into my abdomen, leaving behind an excruciating burn that claws at my flesh.
Besides my mom and sisters’ hearts arriving in that box, the second worst day of my life was when I fed that fresh twenty-something boy to the sea.
He was unconscious, but it doesn’t make up for my wrongdoings or my guilt.
It has fucking eaten me alive for the last ten years.
I watched the waves devour him.
Pull him under, along with the weight attached to his feet.
Whatever remaining humanity I had left disappeared with him.
But that night, when I was at a low that felt unescapable, Tayla was there.
There was no hiding the all-consuming shame rotting me from the inside out.
My sister sat with me on the rocky shoreline below our estate and didn’t need to say a word.
She rested her head on my shoulder, her dark waves cascading over my arm, and just existed with me when I wished that I didn’t.
It’s peculiar that even the purest love in the world still finds beauty in the things that are broken.
The moment I tossed him over the side of the boat, the remorse weaved like invasive vines through my conscience. There was no going back on my decision. His body found its final home one thousand feet under the sea, and I’ll be damned if Kate joins the skeletons I keep buried.
But if she is working with the Calco Cartel, the man responsible for the bloodshed on my family, drowning her would be too kind.
That thought still doesn’t stop his name from tasting bitter in my mouth at the suggestion. “Carter,” I warn.
Out of the corner of my eye, Kate is still gazing out the window.
It’s the same view of the yard I have with the ocean beyond.
There are spotlights at the edges of the grass, illuminating the trees on the forest’s edge.
The garden maze in the distance glows with those twinkling lights, inviting and warm.
“You do realize a month is plenty of time for her to learn things,” he whispers.
“And if she isn’t involved with Luciano—if he’s even the one behind these missing shipments, you plan to just let her go?
Let her disappear with the knowledge of what the Megalley Syndicate is capable of?
There are enough rumors as it is floating around Lachlan Harbor from those attacks and murders that happened in the park. ”
Fuck, I need a drink.
It's almost one a.m., and I’m too tired to make any rational decisions.
The only thing I’m certain of is that I need to keep track of her when she doesn’t think I’m watching. The security cameras littered throughout the estate aren’t enough. If tonight is any indication, there are flaws in our system.
Lifting a hand to my temple, I rub in a circular motion—a pathetic attempt to clear the turmoil. “I need to see Arden. Can you keep a post outside her door until tomorrow morning?”
“What about the balcony?”
Goddammit. Visiting the tech room will have to happen tonight.
Unease tightens my muscles. “Fine. Stay in the room with her.” The words taste sour, but at least there is an en suite for her to use. I make a mental note to tell Gretta to go shopping for some clothes to fill her closet.
Stepping away from Carter, my eyes are drawn to those steadfast green pools glaring at me from the other side of the room. Our eyes remain locked the entire time until I’m boring a hole through the door after I shut it.
Walking down the hall to the grand foyer with a spiral staircase, I remove my jacket as I ascend the steps to the third floor.
The hallway is dark, except for the glowing strip coming from beneath my father’s office door.
My knuckles rap on it a few times before his deep voice tells me to enter.
When I open the door, he’s lounging comfortably in his desk chair, his back turned to me as he gazes out at the blanket of night encasing the estate.
His hand lifts, bringing his tumbler of scotch to his lips.
His office, with its dark wood accents and deep greens, is as intimidating as it is inviting. It’s somewhere in between.
Silence passes between us, and I’m sure he knows I need a drink before I tell him about my day, just like we do most nights, since we are both shit at sleeping.
I approach the wet bar, roll up my sleeves, and notice my red-stained hands that I still haven’t cleaned.
It’s not like cleansing them would wipe my soul.
The damage is done.
The amber liquid flows into the glass. I take a sip before sinking into one of the chairs across from his desk. It’s that kind of night.
Dad slowly turns around, his tired eyes hitting me with a war that rarely ever shows on the outside, unless we’re dealing with business.
On the streets, Arden Lachlan Megalley is a beloved figure in this town that my great-grandparents founded in the early 1930s. People address him with warm smiles, and he returns them.
However, that hospitality is shown when it's deserved.
Behind closed doors, his violence even terrifies me.
Which speaks volumes, considering I’m desensitized to most things.
I watch him in awe, respecting the power and authority he commands.
Ever since Mom and Tayla were murdered, anyone who crosses him not only has their body destroyed, but it's like he tries to crush their soul in his fists, echoing the fractures in his own.
We only have each other now.
His sleep-ridden tone carries through the space. My Irish accent may be slowly slipping from me, but his is still as thick and deep as it always has been. “You must think I’m blind if I didn’t see you sneak that girl in here. Who is she?” he speaks through the rim before taking a sip.
Shit. So much for him not finding out. But a new face around the estate wouldn’t go unnoticed.
I do the same, letting the smooth, spiced flavor glide across my taste buds. “Kate.” I’d say the husk in my voice is from the scotch, but it's not.
“Kate,” he repeats, nodding. “She’s pretty.”
“Oh,” I cough, choking on the liquor. “It’s not like that.”
He arches a brow. “Not like what?”
“I’m not fucking her.” Yet.
Not. Going. To. Happen.
Doesn’t mean I can’t fantasize about wrapping those dark blonde waves around my fist. Wonder what that lying tongue would feel like gliding up my shaft. Picture what Kate would look like while I assault that goddamn mouth until she can’t distinguish her tears of pleasure from her tears of pain.
I shift slightly in the chair to relieve the growing bulge in my briefs.
If just the thought of her can unravel me, what would claiming her do?
Dragging a hand over his salt and pepper beard, he sighs, giving me a flash of those crow’s feet on the corners of his eyes.
They used to be a warm brown like mine, but are now dull like the dirt he wishes he were buried six feet under—a testament to how the last several years have aged him quickly.
My father studies my face. “I was wondering when you’d finally start to settle down.”
“Fuck no. She’s not—” Goddamn. How can I avoid telling him about her real reason for being here? Didn’t she briefly mention something about having a medical background earlier? “She’s joining our medical team,” the words pour out of my mouth before I’ve carefully considered them.
“Oh? I didn’t realize we were looking to add another person.”
“I figured with missing product and not knowing if the Calco Cartel is behind it, it's best to be prepared.” Just because nobody’s made a move in a year doesn’t mean we’re not still at war.
He nods thoughtfully, but I don’t miss the glint of suspicion that lingers. “So, she’s staying here? In the estate.” His lips twitching grate against my skin.
I prop my foot on my knee, lean back, and get comfortable as I pop a few buttons. Fuck, it's getting hot in here.
“She just moved to town. Thought she could stay here for a month until she finds a place. We have plenty of space.”
“Ah, I see.” His hand rocks, twirling the amber liquid in the glass. “Well, I’d like to meet her when she has a minute. You know, considering you employed her without my knowledge, and my life might rest in her hands.”
He’s too perceptive to see through my bull shit.
My dad may not know the exact reason she’s here, but maybe letting him wonder if something is stirring between Kate and me would be better than the truth.
If he thinks she’s involved with the Calco Cartel at all, proof or not, it’s not just her heart and her kidney she’ll have to worry about.
He’ll leave nothing left of her.