Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
She knows. She knows. She knows…
Sloane had stared at him with such utter certainty as she told him that his father was a serial killer. A killer who’d tried to murder Preston.
No, she doesn’t think he actually wanted me dead. He just wanted Preston…
To be like he was. A killer. Sadistic. Monstrous.
Sloane was absolutely right in her suspicions. Dead on, in fact.
Preston’s hands fisted, and he wanted to drive one through the nearest wall. His chest heaved as he rushed away from the conference room.
“Uh, oh. Who just kicked your puppy?”
He came face to face with Atlas Bennett.
Atlas tilted his head to the right. “For someone who cheated death last night, you certainly don’t look pleased.” His attention shifted to the room behind Preston. “Would that fury have anything to do with the woman who is being unjustly detained in this sheriff’s station?”
“Get out of my way.”
“No.” Atlas smiled at him.
“You do not want me as an enemy.” He’d heard all the stories about Atlas, and he didn’t give a shit. He had just as much money, just as much power, and the day he’d fear this prick in front of him—
Atlas laughed. “Why not? I have tons of enemies. If the list gets too short, I start to feel unpopular.”
Okay, fine, he’d deck the dumbass. Preston was more than in the mood for some violence.
Like father, like son.
But Atlas’s laughter faded. “Sloane isn’t your enemy.”
“Oh, really? Tell me more. Wait, let me guess. Is she my savior? The woman to pull me from the darkness? Is she the person who is going to stop me from becoming a fucking monster?”
Atlas edged closer to him. “In danger of that, are you? Those dark urges growing inside you? Better learn to channel them, my new enemy. A word of advice—either you control them, or they will control you.”
What the hell?
Soft, mocking laughter. “You think you’re the only one with some bad blood flowing through your veins?”
Shit, Atlas Bennett knew? “Does everyone in the whole world know about my father?”
“Jeez. Stop thinking everything is about you, man. I know about my own father. I’m talking about myself.”
Preston blinked.
“He was a killer, straight to his core.” Atlas’s voice was low, carrying only to Preston.
Debra was nowhere around. Though Preston did catch a quick glimpse of Eugene when the guy dropped a file and papers scattered across the floor.
“How do you think I met my Lily? She and Sloane do enjoy their research.”
Lily Gallo. She was the daughter of a serial killer.
Lily is Sloane’s best friend. “You’re all twisted.” He slammed his shoulder into Atlas as he shoved the other guy out of his way.
More laughter. “Oh, right, like you’re not? Haven’t you ever heard that people trapped in glass coffins shouldn’t throw stones? Not unless, of course, they’re looking to break out of hell.”
He almost stopped. Almost.
“You’ll come back.” Atlas seemed far too certain. “You’ll need her.”
Okay, fine, he did stop. Only so he could glare over his shoulder at Atlas.
“You’ll realize you need Sloane.” Again, more certainty. “I saw the way you looked at her when you were pulled out of the grave. She was the only thing you wanted, wasn’t she?”
Yes. He’d been desperate to get to Sloane after they’d become separated by their rescuers. And when he’d seen Altas holding her…
Jealousy.
“Tell me, were you so driven to get out of that coffin because you were trying to save your own self…or because you wanted to save her?”
He really did not like Atlas Bennett. “Stay away from me.”
“Sloane had nothing to do with what happened to you. Other than, you know, her trying to help your ungrateful self.”
“Tell her…stay away.”
“You’re hurting yourself.” Atlas shrugged. “But, hey, dig your own grave if that’s what you want.”
Oh, the smirking sonofabitch. Preston drew back his fist and launched at the bastard.
But Lily stepped between them. And, suddenly, Atlas wasn’t smirking. He was grabbing desperately for his wife and trying to shove her out of the way.
Preston didn’t hit her. He’d never hit a woman in his life and would not start then. He froze as he stared at Lily.
“Hi, there,” she said. “We need to talk.”
He jerked back. His fist instantly fell.
“Lily, shit!” Atlas spun her toward him. “You don’t step between me and a prick with a raised fist! Now I’ll have to kill him, you know this. You know what I do.”
“Atlas, please go get Sloane out of there. Make sure all of the charges vanish.” Calm. Cool. “Preston needs some air. I’m taking him outside.”
Yes, he damn well did need some air, and he was going to get it on his own. He rushed through the station. Caught Eugene gaping at him. Even heard Debra call his name.
He didn’t stop. Not until he was outside. Not until he could feel the breeze on his cheeks and hear birds and see mountains and—
My father.
Then…
I won’t be like him.
Preston sucked in deep breaths. Saw…Sloane in his mind. Cuffed. Reaching out to him—
“There comes a point in each person’s life when we have to decide…are we going to be good or evil?”
He’d known that Lily had followed him. He’d heard the soft tread of her steps.
“You don’t want to be here right now,” Preston warned her.
“Sure, I do,” Lily Gallo returned. Correction. Lily Gallo-Bennett. “Wait, no, honestly, I’d rather be inside, getting my best friend out of handcuffs and convincing her to ditch this town and leave with me.”
He finally glanced over at her.
“But you and I have a few things in common,” Lily told him. “So I figured the least I could do is spare you a two-minute pep talk.”
“This is your pep talk? Telling me I have to decide if I’m good or evil?”
“Yes. Because it’s your choice, you know?
All the research that Sloane and I are doing—we get that, in the end, it can come down to choices.
Making the right ones.” She tucked her hands into the back pockets of her jeans.
The wind caught her hair and blew it lightly across her cheek.
Her gaze never wavered from his. “She told you about your dad.”
He grunted.
“But you already knew, so I don’t get why you’re acting like the sky just fell on you.”
Total shock flashed through him.
Lily inclined her head. “See, told you. We have a few things in common. And one of those things? I can recognize a pretender when I see one.”
The conference room door flew open. Hope blasted through Sloane. Preston had come back. He’d—
“Ready to get the hell out of here?” Atlas asked her.
Oh. It was Atlas.
“Holy shit, look less disappointed, would you? Freedom is ringing.” He motioned toward Sheriff Tooni.
“Get the cuffs off her. Seriously. That is some bullshit.” Real anger vibrated in his voice.
“My lawyer will have a field day with this crap. Field freaking day. Unauthorized searches. Made-up charges. Unlawful imprisonment.” With every bitten off word, he approached Sloane. “Cuffs off her, now.”
Right, that would be typical Atlas. Expecting his orders to be carried out—
Debra Tooni took the cuffs off.
“Excellent,” Atlas praised the sheriff. “I appreciate your cooperation. Now, come on, Sloane. Let’s get out of this town. Time to put it in our rearview mirror.”
She stood up, her now-free wrist automatically flexing.
“She’s not leaving town,” Debra rushed to say. “I need her to stay here while she’s under suspicion—”
“Suspicion?” Atlas cut through Debra’s words. “Suspicion of what? Being a victim?” His eyes narrowed as he focused on Sloane. “I have some very important words that I want you to practice saying with me. Are you ready, Sloane?”
Ah, no? She was not.
“I am a victim,” Atlas informed her. “Say it with me now, ‘I am a victim.’”
“I’m a victim?”
“No, a statement. Period at the end. I am a victim.”
“I am a victim.” Those words made her insides tighten. She was a damn victim. She’d been one for years, and she hated that fact.
I want to be the predator. Her own secret. She had so many secrets. Some days, they threatened to choke her.
But Atlas was nodding approvingly at her.
“See? That’s what we say when we are mistreated by individuals who should know better.
We aren’t guilty. We’re victims, and victims walk out of sheriff stations.
They don’t get cuffed in them.” He glowered at Debra.
“You will be hearing from my attorney. Let’s see how massive the lawsuit will be. ”
Debra flinched but stood her ground. “A man was kidnapped and buried alive. She confessed to stalking him.”
Atlas sent Sloane a what-in-the-hell-possessed-you-to-do-that glance.
“Researching,” she mumbled. How many times would she need to clarify this particular point? “I was researching Preston and getting ready to approach him formally. I was not preparing to attack the man.”
“Say less,” Atlas advised her.
But Debra slapped the open cuffs on the tabletop. “She promised to cooperate if she had her five minutes alone with Preston Byron.”
Again. Atlas fired Sloane the same glance. The what-in-the-hell-possessed-you-to-do-that glance.
She swallowed. “I’m really tired. Not thinking too clearly. I had nightmares when I tried to get any sleep.” Except for when she’d been in Preston’s arms. She’d slept fine then.
Something she should probably not analyze too much at the moment.
“Why were you stalking Preston Byron?” Debra demanded.
“I was researching him. Because I research serial killers.” Tread carefully.
Carefully. “You and I both know that Preston was the victim of a serial killer’s attack when he was fourteen.
” Again, she’d done her research. Preston’s adoptive family had brought him to the mountains after the attack.
They’d moved him from California all the way to North Carolina.
Sometimes, you needed a fresh start. One that was on the opposite side of the country.
Then again, sometimes, demons just chased you wherever you went. Demons could be tenacious like that.
“I wanted to talk with him.” Meeting Preston had been a priority for her. “It’s important to understand survivors.”