Chapter 43 | Preston
FORTY-THREE | PRESTON
Lounging back against the couch, I soak in the warmth from the tabletop fire pit in front of me and the beautiful woman tucked into my side with her hand draped on my chest. Night blankets us, the reminder making me want to take Kate to bed and make love to her again like I have tried to every night since she walked out of my bathroom in that lingerie that nearly gave me a heart attack.
Kate tugs at my t-shirt with her fingers, her head resting against my shoulder as she watches the flames dance into the air. Her soft, even breaths soothe me, along with the nip in the air that brushes across the patio. The kind of chill in the air that hints at the approaching season of fall.
All I want is more time with Kate. Although the park may be slowing now that school has started again and summer vacation is over, we are still head-fucking-deep in this war with the Calco Cartel that I’m determined to end.
Life may feel a little more peaceful now with Kate by my side, but I won't let my guard down until my blade plunges into Luciano’s heart and both carotid arteries in his neck. I’ve never been into throat slitting; it’s too quick, but my darling inspired me.
I twirl the scotch in my glass, taking a sip.
The spiced flavors bloom on my tongue and slip down my throat.
My father lounges in one of the outdoor patio furniture chairs across from me, Carter in the matching one, while Kate and I are on the loveseat.
I’m grateful that we’ve found small moments like this to exist together now that Kate and my father are on speaking terms.
I’ve started noticing he has a soft spot for her.
I think it’s especially therapeutic for him when he can talk to her about my mother and Tayla.
When he can speak about their memories in the way they deserve, since we’ve bottled it up for so long.
I’m grateful Kate can give him something I can’t.
It’s still too hard to mention them sometimes, but I’m getting better.
She sometimes sits with him in the garden, knowing he feels closer to my mom there, since it was her favorite place on the estate.
Besides dealing with our revenge plan to destroy Luciano, my dad seems lighter, and I can’t help feeling that part of it is because I am.
Maybe it’s because he’s seeing me carry on with a luxury in life he never thought I’d experience after seeing love ripped away from him.
It makes me want to fight harder to keep her.
Protect her.
To not take Kate for granted.
If I can somehow find love, why can’t he?
I know he said finding one soulmate is rare enough, but I have this feeling in my gut that it doesn’t end there for him. It can’t. Our empire may be brutal, but he is not. Arden deserves more. He may have given up on himself, but I’ll hold on to enough hope for the both of us.
I peek down at Kate, reminding myself she’s there, and she smiles up at me with those beautiful, big green eyes. Her fingers drift down my abdomen suggestively, but slowly enough that nobody else will notice.
Which was shit thinking on my part when Carter lifts his tumbler to his lips, muttering, “You guys are disgusting.”
My father hides his dark laugh with the rim of his glass.
“Oh, fuck off.” I can’t help my evil grin. “You're just jealous.”
Something that feels like a warning flash behind his eyes when they slice to mine.
Carter’s another one I have hope for.
I don’t think he’s fucked anyone for six years. Not that I expect him to tell me if he did, but he's been extra moody lately, and his lack of dick wetting might be why. Not that I have room to judge, since Kate was the first woman I slept with since Mom and Tayla died.
Now that I think about it, he has been temperamental for the last few months, since I brought Kate to the estate.
Deciding not to rub my happiness in his face, I reach out and set my tumbler on the fire table, letting Kate sink into the couch beside me.
“How was the wedding?” I ask him.
“Hmm?” He lowers his glass from his lips.
“Your sister’s wedding.”
“Oh.” He shakes his head, as if clearing the fog that's been looming over him. I wonder how many glasses of liquor he’s had. His fingers pulse into his glass. “It was good. Glad to be back at work, though. My family was asking too many questions about my tech job.”
I know he hates that part—lying to them after he’s been trying to gain back their trust after they cut ties when he was an addict. But he’s trying. He made up a story about working at a tech company here in Maine, so they don’t know that he’s a right-hand man for the Irish mafia.
My father sits forward, bracing his elbows on his knees with an inquisitive look. “Can we see some pictures?”
Carter drags his hand over his black hair and exhales, sinking back into the chair. “I don’t have any. Wouldn’t want to have any physical ties to put them in danger.”
I nod at him curiously. I can understand that, but there’s something potent about that comment that's stinging my gut. Not the words, the look in his eye. His mannerisms.
“You want to know what’s crazy?” Kate speaks up beside me, drawing my attention. “That morning you found me at the end of the dock; I thought it was going to be Carter who caught me when I saw him getting off the boat with that duffel bag.”
That stops me short, and I swear I feel the air shift in the way Carter’s muscles tense.
“Is that so?” I deadpan.
Kate’s brows furrow at the same time my hand reaches for the Glock at my hip. With quick precision, I have it aimed.
“Oh my God, Preston. What are you doing?” Kate tosses her hands up like I’m pointing the gun at her.
But it’s not. It’s on my best friend.
“What does it look like?’ My tone is bitter. Deadly. “I found our fucking mole.”
Kate gasps at the same time my father’s eyes shoot to me. His voice is worried. “I know this feeling, son. You won't be able to take it back if you're wrong.”
Arden stands hesitantly, but I don’t move. “Just put the gun down,” my father encourages.
My tone is sharp. “I’m not wrong. Am I, Carter?”
Carter’s eyes are firm on mine as he slowly moves to stand, my barrel locked between those wrinkles between his eyes. My heart thunders, but I contain the shake that wants to take over my limbs.
Carter swallows. “No.” Arden curses under his breath before the first excuse comes. “But it’s not for what you think.”
“So, you aren’t a fucking traitor working for the bastard who took everything from us? Who took them from us?” I shout. “All this fucking time it was you stealing those shipments. That’s why the one when you went to Chicago was accounted for.” If he were even in fucking Chicago, the lying cunt.
Arden’s hand drifts to his Glock now, but he doesn’t pull it. My father snarls. “Is this true, Carter?”
It doesn’t faze him. His hands slowly raise in front of him. “Preston, I need you and Arden to listen to what I’m going to tell you.”
“This is bullshit! You can’t talk yourself out of this.
You dug your fucking grave, and I’m going to be the one to bury you in it!
” I click the safety off, so Carter hears it.
I’m not fucking around. It’s loaded, and I’m ready to put a hole in his goddamn skull.
“We fucking trusted you! You were the reason we lost our territory and men in Virginia. Your brothers!” His family.
He shakes his head. “I wasn’t sure at first when I saw it, but I had to be sure.”
“Stop fucking mumbling and speak,” I shout, re-aiming the gun so he knows I have zero patience.
“Fuck,” he mutters, inhaling a deep breath. “Did you ever thoroughly look at that anonymously sent invitation that came in the mail?”
My father is the one who speaks in a dark tone. “For Luciano’s fiftieth?”
Carter’s unhurried nod has chills piercing my spine. “There was something off about it. And then I looked closer at the inconsistency in the letters.”
My father reaches into his suit pants pocket hurriedly and takes out his phone, his fingers flying across the screen.
My eyes dart between his and Carter, blood whirring in my ears.
When my dad pulls up a picture of the invitation that we have in our digital files, he looks back up at Carter frantically.
“You wouldn’t have survived it if I were wrong.” The tremble in Carter’s voice has my hair standing to attention. “I didn’t say anything because I had to be sure. I had to do everything to be sure. Needed to get in and prove it with my own two eyes.”
My father approaches me, holding the phone out. Our eyes fall to the screen displaying the image of the invitation, and I zoom in, scanning the letters with a newfound focus.
Then I see it—the discrepancies in the capital letters.
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.
“We were never supposed to get this invitation, Preston. It’s barely noticeable, but she was hoping we’d find the clue,” Carter treads carefully.
My heart fucking stops when I realize they make a word.
A name.
My gaze snaps to Arden.
Tears form in the corner of my father’s eyes. The hopefulness lingering there is blinding.
“That’s why I did what I did.” Carter’s voice is rough. “Why I’m getting him to trust me.”
“Are you sure? That’s my baby girl, Carter. It’s been five years. We saw the pictures.” Arden’s voice breaks.
Carter nods, his voice a whisper. “I’ve seen her.”
“Who?” Kate breathes cautiously from behind me, as if she’s worried she’ll scare me.
I am scared. But for a completely different reason.
I turn to look at her, the reality settling in like a bullet to my chest. It’s a breath out of my lungs. “Tayla’s alive.”
Kate gasps. Her hand reaches for mine, her warmth a reminder of why finding redemption is worth the wait sometimes.
Why I should keep fighting.
Because sometimes, when it feels like something is ending, it's because something new is beginning.
THE END