Page 92 of Corrupt Me

This was an unbelievable nightmare. I couldn’t fathom what I was seeing. I had to be wrong. None of it made sense. This night was like putting together a puzzle with pieces from the wrong box. But even through the swollen mess of a face, I recognized him.

Shaking my head as disbelief lanced through my chest, I whispered, “Preston?”

twenty-six

He didn’t say anything at first, and it could have been the injuries preventing him from speaking, or he could be feeling the same unbelievable shock I was. “Ev?” Preston finally rasped.

I flew out of the chair, dropping down beside him, no longer caring about getting blood or dirt on me. “Oh my god. It’s you. It’s really you.” I hadn’t wanted to be right. I hadn’t wanted the messed-up, bleeding, beaten man to be my ex. But he was. I lifted my hand to touch him but paused halfway to his face, unsure if it was safe. Touching him would cause more pain than he was clearly already in.

Preston swayed slightly, and I feared he would collapse to the ground again if I didn’t help him. “Ev,” he repeated my name in disbelief. “You’re really here.”

Putting my arm around his back, I leaned into him, offering my body as a support beam and sitting him up. “Unfortunately,” I mumbled. “What areyoudoing here?” I asked.

“I-I don’t know,” he stammered, looking more confused than I was comfortable with.

Scanning his surface injuries, I wondered if he’d suffered a concussion or worse. Visibly he bled from the outside, but what about internally? I was no doctor, but he had a nasty gash near his temple, a cut on his lip, and one of his eyes was swollen shut. He also had an injury to his side I couldn’t see from under his clothes, but he pressed a hand there.

He hissed at the touch of my fingers on his chin.

Blistering anger on Preston’s behalf laced through my veins, accompanied by a healthy dose of disgust. I swung my gaze to Angelo. “What’s wrong with you? Why did you drag his brother into this? I wasn’t enough leverage?” I seethed, not caring I was snapping at a potential gang boss.

Angelo stood and clapped, the sound echoing through the warehouse like he’d just witnessed a performance worthy of a standing ovation. “What a touching reunion.” His lips curved. “An interesting assumption, but if you remember, I hadn’t known you were coming, sugar. Besides, Preston needed a reminder of what happens when you cross me.”

“Do you have any idea how fucked up this is?” I shot back.

He crossed his tattooed arms over his chest. “Does your moral compass include stealing as fucked up? If so, you’re pointing the finger at the wrong criminal.”

Angelo might have a pretty face, but I found him grotesque. “You’re a monster.”

“Boss, we got a problem,” one of his Crows interrupted, his chest heaving as if he’d been running.

Angelo dragged his gaze away from me to glance at his guy. They exchanged a silent look. The message didn’t seem good. Those callous brown eyes returned to me, his lips set into a hard line, no touch of amusement as he came to stand over Preston. “Watch him for me, sugar.” Angelo’s boot came down on Preston’s hand, pinning it to the concrete. A sickening crunch followed taken over by Preston’s howl of excruciating pain.

“Stop!” I screamed when Angelo wouldn’t let up.

The heartless smile on his lips caused my stomach to pitch. He lifted his foot. “Oh, and think again about trying to escape. I’d hate for one of my guys to shoot someone as pretty as you.”

“Let her go,” Preston weakly croaked. He was in no shape to make demands as he cradled his hand. “You got me.”

Angelo pulled something out of his pocket, and for a breath-stealing second, I thought for sure it would be his gun, but it was only his phone. “Turns out she’s a better hostage. Wish I would have known she was fucking your brother instead of you.”

That was just cruel, and I searched the floor around me for something to hurl at Angelo’s head, but he’d already turned his back to me, going into the office.

I scowled at the dick for another moment, wishing the daggers in my eyes were real and could sink into him. Then I shifted my focus to my ex. “Preston, Christ. Your hand.”

He hissed and jerked his arm back at the touch of my fingers. He didn’t say anything for a minute, his body shaking.

“I think it might be broken,” I said, fracturing the awkwardness. I shifted my body so I sat cross-legged on the concrete, Preston’s weight taking its toll on my shoulder.

He seemed to realize how much of his weight he leaned on me and again tried to sit up and steady himself. He managed marginally, groaning and moaning. “I’m sure that’s not the only thing broken. Pretty sure I have a cracked rib or two.”

I had so much I wanted to say to him, but at the foremost was one question. “What did Angelo mean about crossing him?”

“Come on, Ev,” he scoffed as if it wasso obviousand everyone but me knew. “You haven’t figured out what a fuckup I am yet?”

I hated hearing him talk about himself like this despite how I felt. But what I hated more was how his tone implied I wasn’t smart enough. How could someone unknowingly be such aninconsiderate asshole? “Even if I did, what does that have to do with Angelo and the Crows?”

“Jesus, why are you on a first-name basis withhim?” he spat with justifiable venom.

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