Kiss Me There Page 13

  Now I was seriously freaked out.

  But then I realized something. My dad was probably tailing me again, making sure I was okay since he was dodging all of my calls. Once the realization hit me I felt the calm descend. I wasn’t being tailed by an enemy. In fact, I was being protected.

  I tossed the newspaper in the garbage and kept going, wanting to get home so I could drive out to Connecticut and end this terrible suffering. Ten minutes later, I reached the entrance to my building.

  And the guy was still there.

  “You don’t have to keep following me.” I turned around and looked him in the eye, stopping him in his tracks. “I can take it from here.”

  He stared at me with a cold expression, his face anything but friendly. He looked foreign, as if he could be Italian or Spanish. He wore a brown leather jacket with dark jeans. I couldn’t see anything underneath his clothes, but I suspected he was concealing a gun in the back of his jeans.

  “See ya.” I gave him a friendly wave then turned to the door.

  “Roland Preston.” His voice contained an accent. It was definitely Italian.

  “What’s up?” I turned back around, expecting some kind of speech about how great my father was.

  “Your father wishes to speak with you.”

  “What?” I blurted. He’d been dodging all of my calls. Why would he want to speak to me now?

  “Come with me.”

  “Come with you where? I’ll just drive to his place.”

  “He asked me to escort you there.”

  What was the need for the big production? Was my father really such a coward that he would send a henchman to fetch me? He couldn’t just call me and ask to see me? He didn’t seem to have a problem sticking his nose in every aspect of my life just a few weeks ago. “I can drive.”

  “Why drive when you can have someone take you?” He walked past the building and turned right.

  Since my dad was already pissed at me I decided to do whatever he wanted. He hated it when I didn’t listen to him, so perhaps I should start. “Fine. Whatever.” I followed behind him until I caught up with him.

  We entered an old parking area where a single black car sat. It was dark and all the streetlights were off. The pavement was wet even though it hadn’t rained. With windows tinted pitch black and a grill that lacked a license plate, the whole scene started to become unnerving.

  Something didn’t feel right.

  The man watched me closely, seeing my reaction to everything.

  I couldn’t explain the feeling adequately. That sense of fight or flight hit me right in the core, telling me this was do or die. I kept my expression calm but I felt anything but serene.

  Then I sprinted at full speed.

  The man anticipated my movement and was right on me. He sprinted from behind then tackled me to the ground. The feeing of a metal gun was pressed against his hip.

  I fought hard against him, feeling my heart pound dangerously fast. My body was doing everything it could to ensure my survival.

  But I didn’t think it would be enough.

  He drew his weapon before I could reach it and held it up out of my reach.

  Fuck.

  I used my entire body to grab his arm and yank it down, getting the barrel away from my face.

  But I wasn’t quick enough. He gripped the gun and slammed it hard against my skull. Bells rang in my head and my vision blurred. Streaks of bright colors flooded my sight. I could no longer feel the cold ground or feel the weight of his body on top of mine.

  I couldn’t feel anything.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Sean

  I stirred my scotch, listening to the ice cubes spin around the artisan glass. The cool temperature pressed against my fingertips and felt exactly opposite as the fiery liquid that moved down my throat.

  The TV wasn’t on in the living room. Instead, I watched my cold expression in the reflection. I still wore my suit because I hadn’t removed it since I came home from work. Scarlet made dinner but I didn’t have a single bite. I was in a quiet repose, my exterior unbreakable.

  Scarlet came down the stairs wearing a nightdress. It was pale pink and complimented her skin tone perfectly. Her curls from earlier in the day had come loose, but her hair was still wavy. Her make up was gone, and the smooth skin and beautiful eyes were now natural. “Coming to bed?”

  “In a little bit.” I stared at the TV again and drank my scotch, knowing my mood was insufferable. Scarlet hadn’t done anything except take my side but I still pushed her away. I wasn’t just angry with my son.

  I was hurt.

  She walked into the living room and took the seat beside me, her beautiful legs poking out from underneath her gown. Despite her obvious sex appeal I wasn’t in the mood. My wife was the one thing that could turn me on no matter what, but for the past few weeks her charms had failed.

  I was that livid.

  As I aged I expected my relationship with my wife to change. I suspected my body would fail me and I wouldn’t have the sexuality as I did in my youth. But that wasn’t the case at all. In fact, nothing had changed.

  But now was an exception.

  I didn’t like anyone or anything. At work I didn’t do anything except mope around. Even Mike didn’t like me. When I came home I did the same thing.

  And I drank a lot more.

  “Sean, you need to snap out of this.”

  “He hasn’t apologized to me.”

  “In his defense you never take his calls.”

  “I deserve more respect than an apology over the phone. If he wants me to treat him like a man he needs to act like one.”

  “Maybe he calls to figure out a time for the two of you to meet.”

  “He knows exactly where I am every hour of the day. My life is pretty predictable.”

  Scarlet gripped my thigh and rubbed it gently.

  Weeks had come and gone and I still hadn’t heard from him. I felt like an asshole for giving him the cold shoulder at Silke’s art gallery. I felt like an ass for not taking his phone calls.

  But that’s how angry I was.

  I wanted to be acknowledged for everything I do for my family. My kids had no idea what real suffering felt like because I prevented it more than they realized. After meeting people like Arsen and Heath, I would assume they would be more grateful for the unconditional love I gave them.

  But Roland didn’t appreciate it at all.

  Through the years I’d sacrificed everything for my family. I didn’t expect a medal or even a thank you.

  But I wanted respect.

  Roland took that away from me. Like a whiny little brat he insulted my actions to protect him. Maybe some parents didn’t care about their children, but I sure as hell cared about mine.

  “He will apologize to you.”

  “It’s been a while…” It didn’t seem like it would happen.

  “He called me a few days ago.”

  I set my glass down. “He did?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And what did he say?”

  “He feels terrible, Sean. He’s a little scared of you.”

  Would I be a terrible father if I said I was actually glad he felt that way? “What else did he say?”

  “He wants to apologize but he’s afraid you won’t forgive him.”

  Now that wasn’t possible. I’d forgive my son for any crime. But he had to apologize first. “That surprises me.”

  “You’ve been pretty cold.”

  She was on my side this entire time. But now it seemed like she flipped. “You’re taking his side now?”

  “Not at all. But I think you should knock off this behavior.” She grabbed the drink from the end table and downed all the liquor before she returned it. “I don’t like it when you drink like that.”

  “I’m not a mean drunk.”

  “But you’re a silent drunk—which is worse.”

  I knew I was in the wrong but I was too stubborn to admit it.

  “
Until you get your act together you can sleep in a different bedroom.” Without another word she left the bed and headed to the stairs.

  We’d been married for a very long time, and we’d never slept in different rooms. We had our fights, of course. But nothing that would separate us so harshly. The fact I pushed her away only made me hate myself even more.

  I checked the security of the house before I approached the bedroom. The door was already closed. When I turned the knob to walk inside it was locked.

  She locked the door.

  “Scarlet, open the door.”

  “Good night, Sean.” Her voice came from deep in the room because she was already in bed.

  “Baby, open the door.” I rested my forehead against the wood. There was no way I’d be able to get any sleep without her beside me. I needed to listen to her breathe, to hear rhythmic breathing. It lulled me to sleep and kept the nightmares away.

  “No.”

  “Open the door or I’ll break it down.” If she thought a flimsy piece of wood would keep me out, she was sadly mistaken. I could kick it in with a few pushes.

  Scarlet didn’t call my bluff. She opened the door a moment later, a guarded expression in her eyes.

  “Thank you.” I walked inside, ready to get undressed and go to bed.

  She walked out and shut the door behind her.

  I froze on the spot, even more irritated than I was before. “Scarlet, get back here.”

  She was already gone.

  She could command me to do anything with just a few simple words, but I couldn’t get her to do anything I asked. She was far too stubborn. I walked out and entered the spare bedroom. She was already in bed. “Knock it off, alright?”

  “I don’t want to sleep with you, Sean.” She turned on her side and faced the other way. “Just leave me alone.”

  I pushed her even further than I realized. “I’m sorry.”

  She stared out the window.

  I came to the bed and sat on the edge, feeling the mattress dip to accommodate my weight. “I’m sorry for my behavior. I know I’ve been an ass lately.”

  No response.

  “I won’t drink anymore.”

  “Why must you drink at all? Why is it you hit the bottle every time something bad happens?”

  “It’s not like it affects me. I don’t become a mean or violent drunk. If anything, I become depressed and quiet. I’m not hurting you or anyone else.”

  I must have said the wrong thing because she sat up and looked me in the eye. “My mother started drinking when my father died. It was just a few drinks here and there until it turned her into a completely different person. That’s when she became violent, terrifying, and someone I didn’t recognize. Sean, it always starts somewhere. If you need to turn to substance the second things get difficult, then you already have a problem.”

  I had an argument against that, a good one. Never once did I say I was perfect. I’d been through a lot in my life and had nearly lost my family. The kind of stress that I carried was something no one would truly understand. Maybe I needed a few drinks to cope with it sometimes. That didn’t make me a bad person.

  But I understood where she was coming from.

  Alcoholism had ruined her family. It led to physical abuse, neglect, and depression. She was the victim of this silent killer for decades. The second a drink touched my lips she was nervous. Social situations were okay, when we were out with our friends. But when I was home alone and had anything but a glass of wine she was uneasy.

  And I should have known better.

  “You’re right. I was insensitive.”

  Her aggression finally died down when she heard my sincerity.

  “I shouldn’t use it to cope. I shouldn’t turn to it when I’m in a dark place. The only person I should turn to is you.”

  The suspicion and resentment left her face.

  “Baby, I’m sorry. Don’t pull away from me.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  I moved my hand across the bed until it reached her leg. I rested it there to see her reaction, to see her acceptance.

  She let the touch linger.

  I removed all my clothes then got under the sheets beside her. Once her body was pressed to mine I wrapped my arms around her and kept her pinned against me. Her smell washed over me, and I finally felt at peace.

  “Just don’t do it anymore—no matter how hard things get.”

  “I won’t.”

  “Because if something ever happens to me…you can’t turn to that.”

  I hated the thought. “That will never happen. We’re going together.”

  ***

  Mike appraised me. “You seem better today.”

  “Scarlet talked some sense into me.”

  “Good woman,” he said. “I was getting sick of your shit.”

  “We’re even. Because I get sick of your shit too.” I sat behind my desk and pulled out my phone. “Con is still in Seattle?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What did he think of the boxer thing?”

  “He’s not totally on board with it.”

  “Cassandra?”

  “Haven’t told her.”

  No one was going to support him in this. My brother was strong and agile but he wasn’t invincible. “Give it time.”

  “Hopefully.” He headed to the door. “I’m going to lunch with John. Want to come?”

  “Where?”

  “Country club.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  He nodded and walked out.

  I checked my phone in the hope that Roland called me. It didn’t make any sense. I wouldn’t answer his phone calls but I wanted him to call me anyway. Actually, I really wanted him to walk inside my office right now and say what I wanted to hear.

  But that hadn’t happened yet.

  My assistant’s voice came through the intercom. “Mr. Preston, I have someone on the line for you.”

  “Who is it?” I locked my screen on my phone.

  “He wouldn’t say…” Her voice shook.

  “Irene, what is it?”

  “I don’t know…he sounded strange. Like he was speaking through some kind of instrument. He said he needs to speak to you…something about Roland.”

  My blood turned cold. “I got it.” I ended the call then snatched the phone. My finger hit line one and I was connected. “Sean Preston of PIXEL Software. Whom am I speaking with?” I answered the phone with nothing but authority. Despite my fear I refused to give into it. Or at least let a stranger know I gave into it.

  “Hello, Sean Preston.” The voice spoke through a scrambler. It was altered in ways that almost made it difficult to understand. The speech was from another planet, foreign and hostile. “I have your son.”

  My heart was beating so fast it hurt. Sweat formed on my forehead and my tongue went dry. I couldn’t think because the fear was too much. Without any further information I knew this threat was real. “So you say.” Keeping my cool was nearly impossible, but since everything was on the line I couldn’t afford to mess up.

  “When we get off the phone you can check yourself.” The voice was deep, too deep to belong to any man.

  I wanted to cry. I actually, truly wanted to cry. I wanted to beg this man to give me my son, my little boy. The fear was crippling. I’d already lost my family before. I couldn’t do it again. “What do you want?”

  “Careful.”

  ‘What do you want?” I repeated, more hostile than before.

  “You’ll know very soon.”

  My throat was closing up and I couldn’t breathe. Every second felt like an eternity. My lungs were clutched with ice, and my throat was alive with fire. “You want money, I’ve got that. Name the price and we’ll work out a deal.”

  “You’re jumping ahead of yourself, Mr. Preston. We’ll talk later. Just know I have your son. And no, he’s not being treated well.”

  Sean, stay calm.

  Keep breathing.

  Don’t give in. />
  “I’ll call you tomorrow with my demands. For now, try to get some sleep knowing you may never see your son again.”

  The line went dead.

  I heard the tone come over the receiver but I kept it pressed to my ear.

  I listened for the voice again but it never came.

  My body stopped working. It went into panic mode. My eyes wanted to shed tears and my heart wanted to stop. My son was taken from me and I didn’t even know about it.

  I may never see him again.

  I didn’t know what was going on.

  My son.

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