Page 23 of Happenstance
Death himself.
“Hello, Lana.” Preston’s cold eyes rolled my way.
I wanted to crawl away. Or run for the door and never look back. But fear had me trapped in its icy grip. He sauntered slowly closer and all I could do was watch as the words on my gravestone slowly became visible.
Step.
Here lies Lana.
Stride.
She was stupid and didn’t run.
Preston’s shoulders glided under his jean jacket. Smooth and graceful. Like a cat getting ready to pounce on a mouse. In this situation, I was the mouse. By the time he stopped at the foot of the bed, all I could hear was my own blood pumping loudly in my ears. When his fingers curled around the top of my footboard, my mind snapped out of its terrified state. I sprang back, opening my mouth and sucking in a deep breath, but he cut me off.
“Before you do something stupid, like scream, I want you to think about what I’ll do to your beloved grandmother if she comes through that door.”
I froze, sucking my scream back, and quickly shifted my gaze to the door. Though it was easier to stare at a plank of wood than the cold gaze of death, Preston wasn’t the kind of guy one took their eyes off. I stared back at him, searching for some semblance of life or humanity. I found none. No blue sparks in his glare, like his brother, or hint of emotion on his face. He was void of anything.
Dark…
Empty…
And black…
The words that eventually came out of my mouth, I could only chalk up to pure shocked stupidity. “Do you have a gun?”
“Do you think I need one?” He cocked a brow and I suppressed my shiver.
No, he didn’t.
Preston having a gun would be a blessing. At least then things would be over quickly. Kent Drews wasn’t that lucky. I don’t know what he did, but he was last seen with Preston. Kent now called Northwood Sanitarium home.
“What do you want?”
There was no need to irritate the man. I wasn’t suicidal. Besides, no one told Preston Whitley what to do. Earlier this year, I’d overheard Logan and Micha talking about some girl that got in his face. I felt sorry for whoever she was.
“You’re supposed to care about your family.” He shot me a look, and then stalked his way across my room. “Love them, obey your parents, look out for your siblings.” His hand twirled through the air as he spoke. “At least that’s what I’m told. Honestly, I wouldn’t give a fuck if my parents died. Hell, I’d slit their throats myself. There is one person I care about, and you’re carrying his child.” He stopped, turned around, leaning back against my dresser. “So, my question for you, Lana, is how many people am I going to have to hurt, to make sure my brother gets what he wants?”
What if it wasn’t Parker’s? My mind instantly went back to the gold tooth and facial hair. For the first time in my life, I hoped I was crazy. That my foggy mind had created something that never happened. Because if it had, Sean wouldn’t be the only one lying in a grave.
“Does your hesitation have something to do with Sean Callaghan?”
My eyes shot up to his.
“You think I didn’t notice how my brother isn’t the only person you’re avoiding? Difference is,” he plucked a letter opener off my dresser and twirled it in his hand, “You’re not scared of my brother.”
I licked my lips and forced the lump down my dry throat.
“Is Sean going to be a problem?”
I shook my head. Even if I wasn’t crazy, and Sean did do something to me, I wouldn’t want him hurt. I may never trust him again, but he was the closest thing I had to a brother. Eventually, I’d forgive him. I hoped.
If there was something to forgive.
Attempting to turn the conversation around, I said, “If you knew what Parker did...”
“I don’t give a fuck what he did.” Preston glared at me, but all I could see was the moonlight glinting off the sharp edge of the letter opener in his hand. “When you go to that meeting tomorrow, you’re going to come to an amicable solution with my brother. One that involves both you, and his child.”
