A throaty laugh escapes him, and I can’t help the way it makes my body warm.
Is that what Preston’s would sound like?
Why do I suddenly have the urge to try to make him laugh?
I’m guessing he doesn’t do it often. If ever.
He scans the space leisurely, his features softening. “If you're hungry, Gretta has food ready.” The way he says it makes me think he wants to be alone.
So instead of crowding his space, his home more than I already am, I rise to my feet. “It’s nice to meet you. I look forward to working with you.” Since I’m unsure how to address him—Mr. Lachlan, Arden, Boss—I make my exit short and sweet.
Arden’s head tilts up, giving me a suppressed smile that hides the pain of a man who’s seen more than most in a lifetime. And I can’t help but think about his son, the man who brought me here, and who is half his age.
Preston’s hard and jagged edges aren’t carved from nothing; they're from enduring more loss than anyone ever should.
As I walk away, all my little ugly truths don’t seem so different from his. Because who am I to judge someone by the scars they never asked for?
SIXTEEN | KATE
“This is what you do all day?” My vocalized amusement has Imogen and the rest of the table smiling.
She studies her cards, placing two fours down face up on the six I laid on the center pile. Her bright white grin clears some of my reservations. “Sucks, huh?”
From the short time I’ve known her, I’ve already gathered that she has recently turned forty-two, is married with two kids, and has been working for the Lachlans for the last twelve years.
In the past five hours, she has given me a rundown of the medical building I’ll be working in, along with several other employees, located on the left side of the estate, where a small private airport is also hidden among the trees. After seeing everything else here the last few days, I’m not surprised they have a personal runway.
After I went into depth about my previous experience, she gave me a tour and a list of my day-to-day tasks. Then she decided to toss me into a card game called Clear, without any understanding of how to play, with her and two of my new coworkers. Synthia, who is a little older than I am, and Declan,one of the sons of a helicopter pilot who works for Arden and Preston.
My nerves are still crackling like live wires, but I couldn’t be more grateful for the distraction. From what I’ve heard, this position appears to be quite similar to the life of an EMT. Well, in some aspects. It’s almost as if we’re on call, waiting, and can fill our time with other tasks when there’s nobody in dire need of attention and our work is done—ensuring rooms are stocked, and inventory is accounted for.
“Don’t lie to the girl,” Synthia smirks.
“Better to let her know what she’s getting into now,” Declan adds.
Imogen pushes her dark, medium-length hair behind her shoulder, re-contemplating her response while her fingers drum through her cards. She looks as if she were born to wear that white coat over her black scrubs. The entire look is pulled together by those reading glasses resting on her head.
“Sometimes, it's easy,” she sighs. “They’re right. I’m not going to pretend it's a fucking walk in the park because this job is demanding when it wants to be. Every member of the Megalley Syndicate is blood, as you know now.”
Megalley Syndicate.
Their real business has a name.
The one that’s under feet of concrete, ride tracks, and a Ferris wheel, fried food stands, and gleeful laughter that conceals the true malicious nature. The one that appears as lobster boats instead of vessels that smuggle narcotics and other things from God knows where.
“We’ll do anything to save and protect our own, which is why you’ll learn that sometimes, we do things untraditionally when the time calls for it. Like the fact that the mob has its own medical unit instead of sending our men to a regular hospital or urgent care for treatment. We do everything on the estatewhen we can. I’ll ask you to do things that may be outside your comfort zone. We’ll administer drugs that you may not recognize or understand. It’s okay to be curious, but don’t ever question me or my methods.”
Now I see why they hired her. She just straightened my spine to be pin-straight with that last comment.
I almost say, “Yes, ma’am,” out of pure nervousness.
Synthia suppresses a chuckle, placing a ten on the pile in the center and says, “Clear.” Wiping away the pile to the side, she places down three queens. “So, in retrospect, don’t ask questions and do what you're told.”
My fingers flip through the cards in my hand to release some of the tension in my body. This is so different than what I’m used to. But that doesn’t seem like the accurate way to describe how I’m feeling.
It’s like they play by their own rules.
Play their own cards.
