Preston’s large frame is paused in the doorway. His frantic eyes lock onto mine. The bang was the metal door slamming into the concrete wall as he barged into the room.
He meets his father’s gaze, Preston’s voice raspy in that way that I usually love, but now it adds an extra dose of terror. “What are you doing with her?”
Arden’s eyes keep me hostage. I fight to squirm. “I should ask you the same thing. Considering you’ve known this entire time that she’s been our fucking mole.”
Surprise transforms Preston’s features, his dark brows furrowing. He shakes his head, a slight tremble to his usually stable tone. “She isn’t.”
“No?” Arden stands and reaches under his chair, grabs a manila folder, and tosses it at Preston’s feet like a Frisbee.
Some of the papers inside fan out across the floor. My eyes dart between the two men.
“I didn’t raise you to be this negligent. Or to lie for pussy.” Preston’s jaw flexes at his father’s harsh words. “About a weekago, something about her seemed familiar. It stirred a memory.” His fingers flex on the gun positioned at his side. “I remember seeing a girl’s hiring paperwork over four months ago. Not for the medical center.” His condescending laugh has me shivering. “I thought, what are the chances. But lo and behold, my gut was right. Kate Hannaford was already working for us. In the park.” His lips lift in a sneer that has more gooseflesh covering my bare arms in my t-shirt. Luckily, I have leggings on.
Preston and I swallow simultaneously. We listen intently, too nervous to test what he would do if our focus wanders. He’s commanding attention. Demanding it with his solid stance.
Arden swipes a hand over his jaw. “Kate was hired around the same time our first shipment went missing. Then, the other one came in this morning perfectly untouched, while she was protected on the estate. Why would she need to steal our product when she’s on the inside, gathering intel that’s much more valuable?” He tucks a hand in his pocket, keeping the other on the gun. For being in his fifties, he’s dangerously handsome, even if he is unhinged and scaring the hell out of me.
“But that wouldn’t explain the attack in Virginia.” Preston treads lightly. “She wasn’t living on the estate when that digital trail was left from inside our walls.”
“The tunnels are on the same IP address as the estate,” Arden sneers. “How do you know the night you found her in the tunnels was the first time she was down there?” Preston’s shoulders tense. “Yeah. I got the security footage from Brody. That’s the first time I’ve seen you weak.”
Preston slowly stalks into the room, his attention not leaving his father.
Arden observes his movements. “You’ve known this entire time that she may be linked to everything that’s happened. I’m shocked your knife didn’t glide through her throat a month agowhen you had her sitting in the very chair she’s in now.” I shiver at his words.
There is a conversation flowing between them through their stare-off that I don’t understand. I’m missing part of the picture. I want to know why they think I was involved with the attack in Virginia.
Arden’s dark chuckle seeps through my ears. “Not to mention she’s been a ghost for the last year. No digital trail. Nothing. We pay her paycheck in cash, Preston! There are not enough discrepancies to save her—”
“It’s not her! She’s—”
“No,” Arden spits, the one word laced with disdain.
He marches the few steps toward me. I flinch, eyes snapping shut, when a searing pain covers the lower half of my face. The sound of tearing fills the air as Arden rips the tape from my mouth. My shoulders drop, releasing the first real sob that escapes my lips in a rush of air.
Preston must move toward me, because when I look up, the gun is raised, its black body glinting in the fluorescent lights.
But it's not pointed at me.
Arden has the barrel steady between his son’s eyes.
A blanket of white paints Preston’s face.
As the boss, I've noticed that every time I’ve seen Arden, he’s controlled in his movements.
Not now.
His eyes glisten from hurt, and there is a steady tremble in his hand with the gun. “It’s not your excuse to make. If anyone’s going to talk, it’s going to be Kate. And if she cares for you like I think she does, she’s going to tell me the truth before I pull this trigger.”
“No, don’t,” I cry. Tears gush from my eyes now.
Preston’s voice cracks, his hands raised. “Dad—”
“I said not another word! Luciano took them from us. Returned Lynn and Tayla’s hearts in that fucking box! And she’s fucking working for him!” He curses something I don’t understand in Gaelic.
Acid sears my throat. My stomach’s threatening to spill its contents all over the concrete before my feet. I’m sure this floor is acquainted with most bodily fluids by now.
Someone carved his wife’s and daughter’s hearts out of their chests and returned them in a box?
