Oaths and Omissions (Monsters & Muses #3)(24)
Later, long after Alistair leaves and I spend too much time pouring over inventory receipts at the pub, Lenny still hasn’t shown up.
She requested I not go directly to Primrose Manor to retrieve her and swore her lawyer brother was more than capable of bringing her to me.
And yet…
I wait until Blue shuts down for the night, and the only thing left to occupy my thoughts is the question of her whereabouts.
Certainly, the little puppet hasn’t given up already. Not when she was so adamant about requesting my assistance.
Finally, around four in the morning, I take it upon myself to investigate. Irritation lodges in my chest as I drive through town, turning down the gravel road that leads to the oceanfront Primrose property.
If I thought she was trouble before, the fact that I’m having to become actively involved in this arrangement does not bode well. For either of us.
A security guard sits in the gate kiosk, and he says something into a walkie-talkie as I pull up. Winding the window down, I swing my arm out and smack my palm against the side of my Range Rover to get his attention.
Eyes wide, the scrawny guard leans to peer through the glass. “M-Mr. Wolfe.”
“Ah, perfect, you’re familiar. Care to let me in, mate?”
“Uh…” He trails off, rubbing the back of his neck. His immediate discomfort makes my blood hum, even though I find the hesitation bothersome. “I’m afraid I’m not able to do that.”
The smile on my face twitches. “Why not?”
“You don’t have clearance.” Flipping through a little notebook on the counter in front of him, the guard cringes. “Actually, I’m supposed to contact the authorities if you show.”
Inhaling slowly, I reach over and uncover the Glock sitting in my passenger seat. “Better get on that, then.”
Smoothing my fingers along the barrel, I bring it to the steering wheel and let it rest, cocking a brow. The guard’s face falls, and he slides off his stool, panic flaring in his gaze.
Fucking hell. The panic.
Looks just as sweet on your hundredth victim as it did on the first.
Seconds later, I’m granted access through the gate. Wiping blood spatter from my chin, I exit and leave my vehicle there, tucking the gun into my waistband. It’s the middle of the night, so I’m not expecting anyone to be up; in fact, half of me anticipates finding the manor completely empty, convinced Tom would steal his family away in an effort to distance them from me.
Unfortunately for him, I’m quite invested in this family.
One member, anyway.
The light beneath the porte cochere is on, and there are figures standing under it. Their shadows cast on the ornate front doors, warped in the wood so they look massive.
I recognize one of the forms immediately and glue myself to the hedges before they notice my presence.
“Lenny, come on now. You’re being ridiculous.” A male voice, pinched and slow, as if deliberately reviewing each word before he says it.
“So what if I am? It’s my right to be, and I don’t remember asking for your opinion.”
“You’re just gonna leave without telling anyone? Think about your father, bug. This will crush him.”
She doesn’t come right out with it, but “good” is implied through the heavy silence anyway.
“What do you even know about this guy? Aside from the fact that he tried to kill your father. Or is that something you’re conveniently forgetting?”
“No one conveniently forgets attempted murder, asshole.”
I glance up at the second story of the mansion, curious to see if anyone else is watching the spectacle. All of the windows are dark, though, and I wonder where Lenny’s brothers are. Her security guards.
If she’s so precious and dear to her father, why is there never anyone around to protect the little puppet?
“Then what the fuck are you doing? If you’re trying to hurt me, congratulations, it’s fucking working.”
His tone takes a dark turn, developing a sharp edge, and it raises alarm in my gut. Pushing off the hedge, I shove my hands in my jacket pockets and continue to where the pair stands, my face growing hot when I see how they’re tangled together.
A man stands in front of Lenny, his hands clutching the brass knobs of the front doors. My chest tightens, watching as she shoves at him, and he takes the opportunity to move closer. One hand leaves the door and snakes up her side, cupping just beneath her left breast; his grip is so taut that it pulls the T-shirt she has on flush with her tit, and I can see the outline of her nipple all the way over here.
“Stop it, Preston.” She squirms, her fist balling at her side. “You’re not my dad or my boyfriend, you have no say in where I go or what I do.”
“But I have a say in who you do,” the man—Preston, apparently—says, releasing her shirt to capture her chin instead. “And your father already agreed to let us date again.”
He forces her to look up at him, and I see her hand slip into her shorts pocket. My chest draws tight, somehow knowing what she’s doing before I even see the end of a paintbrush poke out from her fist.
She fiddles around, and as my shoes hit the cobblestone walkway, her gaze flickers to me. It might be a mistake, but I swear I see a flash of relief before she steels herself and glares at the man, retracting her hand.