Chapter 28 | Preston
TWENTY-EIGHT | PRESTON
Dark gray and black swirl overhead, the relentless clouds unleashing a heavy rain and wind that slightly obstructs the view of the marina lights in the distance.
Boats rock back and forth, bound to the dock ties but still imprisoned by the angry waters that stir the surface, the sea dark while dawn draws nearer.
The pads of my fingers dig into my biceps, my eyes steady on the large box van that’s backing up to our main tunnel entrance with our new shipment of narcotics and illegal weapons that arrived earlier this morning.
And when I say early, I mean four a.m. because it’s one of the easier times to smuggle our shipments in and out of the harbor.
It’s nearly five now, the slight chill from the wind and mist blowing through the open overhead door torments my body with the reminder of the peaceful warmth of Kate’s limbs tangled with mine before I slipped out of bed.
The peace I felt is now replaced with dread as I watch a few of our men pull up the hatch, revealing the tens of blue and white crates piled into the back of the truck.
The scent of salt and sea quickly overtakes the dank tunnel air as its breath collides with the freshness outside.
Workers wheel down the crates filled with the day’s lobster catch, soon to be processed in the warehouse and distributed to local markets and suppliers.
Meanwhile, the most valuable part that fuels our empire, concealed in the middle of the stacked crates, will be wheeled into the tunnels that lead underneath the park.
Arden’s orders echo through the space, the chill in his tone penetrating deep into my bones.
His demands leave no room for negotiation: he tells them to wheel the crates down the ramp into the large processing room, then to wait silently for further instructions.
Anyone in proximity to this shipment is to be held in rooms until they’re all interrogated by my father and me until we’re sure none of them is our mole.
We’re still searching for the scum under our nails that Luciano planted to destroy our operations while he works toward encroaching on our territory.
Stealing what’s ours, thinking it will divert our attention and buy him some time before we hit back harder and obliterate a kingdom that was never supposed to be his.
His brother, Marco, had many enemies back then.
But we weren’t one of them.
However, because we were the only outsiders in that meeting when the life slipped from Marco’s eyes, it was easy for his brother, Luciano, to place blame. Blame that ended with my mom and Tayla being murdered for a sin that isn’t ours to bear.
After years of planning and calculating our revenge, a new plan was set in motion six months ago when an anonymous person sent an invitation in the mail to one of Luciano’s exclusive parties.
Time to celebrate. A new era is beginning. You must show this invite at the gate to join us for Luciano’s 50th birthday party on April 12th @ 7 p.m.
A birthday party he’s throwing himself, which is a pathetic excuse to indulge in more sex, drugs, and alcohol.
Lucky for him, I’ve always been a good gift-giver.
And when our plan comes through, and we get him alone, he’ll have front row seats to watch his birthday bash blow up.
Literally. Then I’ll give him the rare experience of eating his entrails instead of cake while watching his empire burn.
His last few breaths will be tainted with his metallic flavor filling his mouth and the tangible stench of smoke, while his life and anyone he loves goes up in flames, including that spawn of his.
Eight more months.
Instead of over the hill, he’ll finally be buried six feet under it.
A death that’s five years overdue.
My father shoves his hands into his suit pockets, his untrusting eyes following our men as they wheel the crates down the ramp into the dark that swallows them whole, along with the evidence of our illegal operations.
He scrubs a hand over his salt-and-pepper beard, walking back toward me. “We’ve got enough fucking messes to deal with as is and can’t afford to miss anything. You and Carter are sure it's none of the recruits that were on the estate when we were in New York?”
“We interrogated them all, and I have no reason to suspect any of them were behind it.” Even if they somehow sent word to Luciano about us taking that shipment with a team to Virginia, it doesn’t explain how the other shipments went missing before they reached the harbor.
“Those shipments were full when they left our partner facilities. Someone is intercepting them before they arrive, stealing enough that it is noticeable but not detrimental to our operations.”
Enough to throw us off our game and distract us while Luciano plays a bigger one.
The tendons in Arden’s neck flex, the words sounding like venom off his tongue. “That bastard is smarter than I give him credit for.” He folds his arms over his chest. “If Carter were here, we’d be out of here faster. I saw this week marked off on the calendar. Where is he?”
I try not to let the words affect me, but fail. “His sister is getting married.”
A look of sadness passes behind my father’s eyes. “Good for him. It’s an exciting time for a family.”
I choke down the unwanted emotion slithering up my throat and tearing at my insides. “Too bad we’ll never know what that’s like.”
Creases form between his brows, his eyes holding mine captive. “That’s not entirely true—”
“No?” I spit with too much hatred. The admission is out before I can stop myself. “Because last I checked, you don’t have a daughter anymore to give away someday, and I don’t have a sister to pester about how her future husband will never be good enough for her.”
Nobody would’ve ever been good enough for her.
Usually, my father carries himself like a god above men. I’m almost as tall as him, and with the way he holds himself up, it's always like he is looking down at me. But right now, it's like my comment slaps him across his face, and his shoulders drop.
Unlike other mafia fathers who rule with an iron fist, Arden has never laid a hand on me. But now I wish he would. He didn’t deserve that.
His Adam’s apple bobs, his voice hoarse.
“I was going to say that I still have you.” It’s like the chill of the air freezes the oxygen in my lungs.
Then it ruptures into shards of ice and punctures through my chest when he says, “Just because I lost the love of my life doesn’t mean that you don’t deserve to find yours.
At least one of us deserves to find peace at the end of all this. ”
I haven’t dated or fucked anyone since we lost Mom and Tayla. Just the thought of love has my stomach coiling into knots.
It’s so temporary.
Fleeting.
After watching my father for these last five years, I recognize that losing it makes you feel hollower than if it didn’t exist in the first place.
But it doesn’t matter because I’m not falling in love with Kate.
Kate just fell onto my lap when I found her in the tunnels.
And then my cock.
And now is somehow tied to every strain of thought, even when she shouldn’t be.
Arden sighs. “It was clear to me that there was something you were hiding when you brought Kate here. I’d rather you fuck Kate out in the open—date—whatever, than continue lying to me.
You’ve been different since sneaking around, and it’s not hard to understand why.
This life can be long, and you shouldn’t hide the good parts of yours just because I lost part of mine.
What kind of man and father would I be if I didn’t want a better life for you than the one we’ve both been stuck living these past five years?
It might be too late for me, but it's not for you.”
He doesn’t need to lay a hand on me because his comment punches me in the gut just as hard.
Maybe coincidences do exist. An anomaly that brought me a girl who has just scratched the surface, healing the parts of myself I thought were dead and too broken to fix. I never made the effort to try.
I used to think that there’s nothing to lose if you have nothing to begin with. But it’s an empty life all the same, avoiding love or losing it.
Kate’s sentence is nearing an end, and each day there’s more dread that circulates in my stomach and tightens my chest. Weeks ago, I thought there was no way out for her but death.
I wouldn’t have been able to let her go knowing our secrets.
The blood we’re drowning in. But I don’t want to let her go anyway.
I want to keep her.
Claim her.
Make her mine in more ways than that pretty collar around her neck.
And you say you’re not in love with Kate.
I tell my conscience to shut the fuck up. Because I’m not.
Would she stay if I asked?
Stay because I’m infiltrating her soul as much as she is mine, and not because she’s in survival mode running from someone?
If she wanted to stay protected behind my walls—even if she didn’t harbor the same feelings—I would let her. Protect her until I can slay her demons. Or watch her drain the life from his eyes while I peer up at her with admiration from my knees.
I know the feeling in my chest isn’t just fascination anymore, but putting a name to it terrifies the fuck out of me.
I shove my hands into my slacks, bringing my eyes back to my father’s knowing ones. “Peace. You make it sound so simple.”
Arden nods thoughtfully, his eyes far off. He’s thinking about my mother, I’m sure.
I always used to watch them. Their lingering glances.
Their wandering hands around the estate.
The muttered words between them in secret that I couldn’t hear, but my father’s smirk and my mother's sheepish smile were proof enough of the kind of conversation that flowed between them. For those moments, I’m glad they were whispering.
I probably would’ve been scared knowing my father’s tongue can be as foul as mine.
After twenty-three years of marriage, they never extinguished their flame. It burned until it was snuffed out, and still, I see the love that loiters in his gaze. In the way he speaks about her. Thinks about her as if a part of her will never die, even if she did.
I flatten my lips. “Do you think you’ll find it? Peace.”
Arden is fifty-one. Still has half a lifetime, if he’s lucky, to find someone who makes him feel alive like she did.
It takes him a second, but his focus finds me again. The rain outside the door is relentless, the water cascading down the slope of the tunnel around our feet and into the void, only dimly lit by sconces on the wall.
“Finding one soulmate is rare enough. Two—” he shakes his head, the expanse of his throat moving in the dim light.
He changes the subject. “I haven’t talked to Kate much, but I like her.
Which reminds me.” His eyes ignite with something that has my gut rolling.
The darkness that washes over his brown irises is alarming.
“I can’t find her contract. Or any paperwork for that matter. ”
My sternum tightens. I fight to reach up and rub away the tension as it flows to every muscle, pulling them tight.
“I must have forgotten. I’ll have her fill out one.” Can he hear my heartbeat laced with my tone?
“Yeah. Strange,” he repeats, glowering. It’s that look of his, where it’s like he’s using his rough fingers to pick apart my brain and search for the information I’m denying him.
Fuck. How could I have missed that?
I need Kate to sign a contract, or he’s going to know something is off, and my lies will catch up with me.
But the moment her blood touches that paper, she’s not just mine, she’s ours in every way, shape, and form. Her life belongs to the mob.
She’ll never be able to escape.
But at this point, I don’t think I’ll let her either way.