The Private Serials Box Set(56)
“Answer one question, Preston. Just one. Do you work for him? Were you hired to seduce me? To trap me in exactly the future I was trying to escape?”
“Lena…”
“ANSWER ME!”
He sighed and I saw all the conviction leave his body. His shoulders slumped, his eyes lost their light, and he ran a hand through his hair. I knew his answer before the words even left his mouth. “Yes.”
My hand shot out, faster than I’d ever moved before, and the crack my palm made against his face as I slapped him was the most satisfying sound I’d ever heard. His face slammed to the side with the impact of my hand and then I heard my own sob ring out.
“Fuck you, Preston. You’re worse than he is.”
I dug in my purse for my keys, got in my car, and drove away from two men who both had a hand in ruining my life. I had no idea where I was going, but I knew there was nothing left for me there.
END OF PART TWO
Part Three
Private
Getaway
Chapter One
An incessant buzzing, accompanied by an irritating beeping, pulled me out of a dead sleep, which had only been brought on by vodka and chocolate. I groaned, but rolled over slowly, blindly reaching around for my phone. When my fingers finally found it, I peeped one eye open, painfully, but all I could see was the dark veil created by my raven hair. I used my hand to sweep it aside and managed to swipe my finger over the screen of my phone, bringing it to life.
I winced from the bright light, but managed to silence the alarm that was blaring throughout the room. I tossed the phone onto the nightstand and rolled back over, ignoring the aching in my muscles and the jackhammer in my head.
That was the fourth morning my alarm had woken me up. It was a residual alarm left over from my previous life. It used to be the alarm that would remind me every morning to take my birth control pill. It was now the alarm that reminded me to not drown in my current pool of self-pity and hatred. I didn’t have any birth control pills to take. I, in fact, didn’t have anything with me aside from the clothes on the floor I’d been wearing when I fled from my life, the groceries I’d thought to buy before I’d checked into this motel, and my purse.
I was a mess. I’d been in this bed for the majority of the last four days and I felt it. Up until now, I’d not felt the need or want to change my situation. I’d wanted to stay in bed forever, sleep as long as the vodka would let me, and try desperately not to deal with the catastrophe I’d left behind. But I hadn’t left it behind; it seemed to have followed me here and was now seeping back in. Reality.
Reality was a bitch.
I groaned again as I moved off the bed, flinging the scratchy comforter off my body, and swinging my legs over the edge of the mattress.
“Holy f*cking crap,” I whispered to nobody but myself. I rubbed a hand over my face, my nose crinkling up at the gross condition of my skin. I needed a shower. More than I needed anything ever, I needed a shower.
I ambled through the small motel room and found the bathroom. Switching the faucet on, I waited for the water to heat. When it was as hot as I could stand, I pulled the stopper up and watched the water fall like rain.
I climbed in, letting the harsh, hot water pelt me, stinging all the way down to my feet. I went about the business of washing the grime from my body. The tiny bottles I’d had the thought to buy at the grocery store weren’t enough to last very long, but it was enough for now. As I washed my body, I held my cries in. I’d managed not to cry up until now, and I didn’t intend to ever cry over Derrek or Preston. But I couldn’t stop the tears that penetrated. They were tricky and sneaky, and had found ways to fall from my eyes multiple times since I’d walked out on Derrek, but I wasn’t crying. Not ever.
Once dried off, I cringed as I put on the dirty clothes I’d come here in, silently cursing myself for not having the presence of mind to at least grab a new package of underwear. I’d never gone without underwear before – well, except when Preston had asked me to – but now, if ever, was the time.
Once dressed, I checked out of the motel and sat in my car, having no idea where I was headed. I hadn’t thought of a plan past the parking lot, but I was determined to make a change.
I started my car and headed toward the nearest Target.
I had my new carry-on bag filled with new clothes, more tiny toiletries, a few pairs of comfortable shoes, and a paperback book I’d grabbed when the cover caught my eye, and I was near a panic attack.
I was standing in front of a giant screen, taller than I was, listing all the flights leaving the Portland International Airport that day. My mind reeled, trying to pinpoint a destination. It shouldn’t have been a big deal, shouldn’t have been the monumental decision my mind was forcing it to be. I knew I needed to leave, to get away, but I couldn’t nail a location down. Anywhere was better than here. My mind wanted to attach a bigger meaning to wherever I ended up, like I should be going someplace that would scream independence and a new start, but some other part of me also wanted adventure and excitement. I wanted to go someplace I’d never been, to hopefully start living a life I’d never lived.
Unfortunately, at the moment, anywhere international was out of the question since, as I’d run from the house, I’d not thought to grab my passport. That left only domestic destinations until I could get a new one.