Page 28 of Happenstance
Which was precisely why I didn’t want him digging around. If he got too close, he might find out what was really going on in my head. While the look on his face when he realized he’d missed something so close would be priceless, I didn’t need him to shrink me. Besides, there was something to be said about fooling the keeper of the secrets. Who else could’ve pulled that shit off?
My parents walked into the room. My mother had her ‘woman of the house’ look on her face, while my dad curled his lip at the smoke wafting out of my brother’s mouth.
“Preston, put that shit out.”
“Blow me.”
“There is no smoking in this house.” Our mother placed her hand on her hip and glared at my brother. “How many times do I have to tell you that?”
Preston’s response was to look her dead in the eyes, while flicking his ash on the floor.
Lillianna Whitley wasn’t one to back down. She stood there, daring Preston to push her with her eyes. Other children might’ve backed down from that look, but they didn’t have the matricidal fantasies my brother did. Not only did he return her glare, but the fucker went so far as to pull a letter opener out of his pocket and twirl it in his hand.
At that point, she turned her attention to me. “Where is this girl?”
I couldn’t help but snicker at her subtle change in subject. No one could accuse Lillianna Whitley of being stupid. One of the many reasons I’d tried to avoid this whole situation in the first place. Lana was fearless and smart. Not once did she back down from Mason, but my mother wasn’t Mase. She was cunning, and coldly cruel.
“Are you sure you want to do this, sweetheart?”
“Yes,” I answered flatly.
“Parker, she can’t even show up on time,” my mother sighed. “How are you supposed to have a child with her?”
“She’ll be here.”
“Let’s hope so, son.” My father glanced down at his watch, “If she’s not here in fifteen minutes, I’m sending Mr. Weinstein out to get her.”
Mr. Weinstein was one of our lawyers, a former private eye, and a member of the Order. One of the few who wasn’t blood bound. The Order of Ravens and Wolves wasn’t a huge society. We didn’t recruit on college campuses like the movies would have one believe, but if someone was exceptional, or useful in some way, such as a politician, we offered them the chance at induction. Only one person had turned us down. He currently resided in the forest next to Manning Keep. More specifically, six feet under the forest floor.
“You sure you want this cunt involved in your kid’s life?”
“Preston,” my dad snarled, “That’s your mother.”
“So?”
As much as I’d like to argue with my brother–sometimes I disagreed with Preston, just to disagree with him–in this case, he had a point. When our mother found out her baby boy knocked someone up, she came rushing back. When she found out who was having my baby, she insisted on fixing the situation. Even had the gall to tell me it was okay to slum it with a lesser race, but not breed with them. She called my baby an abomination.My baby!If my father hadn’t stepped in, I might’ve helped Preston live out his matricide fantasy.
Completely ignoring my brother’s comment, my mother placed her hand on my cheek and gave me the same fake smile she gave her white nationalist groupies. “Parker, honey, this girl is just trying to trap you.”
My hands fisted at her sparkling blue eyes. Red started to bleed into my vision. I could almost feel her warm blood trickling through my fingers.
She’s your mother, Parker. You can’t kill her.
“Lillianna, we had this conversation.” My father’s brow rose, “I expect you to be nice to this girl. She’s carrying our grandchild.”
Last night, my father explained how things were. Their marriage was more of a business arrangement. Her family was going broke, and he bailed them out. A lifeline he threatened to take away. But if there was one thing Lillianna Whitely was used to getting, it was her own way.
“Your grandchild,” she hissed back at him, “Not mine.”
Preston brought the argument to a grinding halt. “I used to hold a knife to your throat.”
“Preston!” My dad barked, while my mother’s hand flew to her chest in a mock hint of surprise.
I snorted.Please bitch, you’re not that good of an actress.
“When I was a kid, I used to sneak into your room and hold a knife to your throat.” He stared down at the letter opener held tightly in his grip. “The night I decided to slit your throat, the damn dog bit me.”
My gaze zeroed in on the light glinting off the clean metal edge. Where the fuck did he get that? It looked oddly familiar.
