“No. I am not. See, I happen to have this very important rule that I would never break.”
He stared. Waited. Did not take those intense green eyes off her. Seriously, that color was so vivid. She’d never seen anyone else with that shade of green eyes. Usually, green eyes drifted more hazel in tone but his eyes were a true emerald. Bold. Mesmerizing.
“What’s the rule?” Preston demanded.
“I don’t screw men who happen to be married to my friends.” A considering pause. “Sort of a sticking point for me, you know? I believe in loyalty. I believe you stand by your friends. I believe you don’t fuck their partners.”
He blinked.
“He’s married to Lily. You might have noticed her at the scene. Gorgeous. Intense. She would have been the woman Atlas kept at his side the entire time?”
“The Poison Princess.”
Her stomach tightened. “I hate that moniker for her.” A chill skated down her spine. Plenty of people know who Lily is. When your mother was an infamous serial killer—the most infamous female serial killer of the current generation—people tended to focus too much attention on you.
A couple of movies had been made about Lily’s mother, Magnolia. And those movies had all featured segments about Lily, AKA the Poison Princess.
Magnolia was currently sitting in a maximum-security prison because she’d been convicted of multiple murders. Magnolia served one damn fine cup of tea. Tea that was often filled with poison. According to the stories, she’d serve her killer tea with a smile as she waited for her victims to die.
Someone else who can smile and hide the darkness inside.
“Your friend is the daughter of a serial killer.” Not a question from Preston. A hard statement.
“Um.” She did not break eye contact. “And how do you feel about that?” A careful question. A deliberate one because…
Oh, Preston, I have some news you are not going to want to hear.
“I feel like she probably hates her mother.”
Lily’s relationship with Magnolia was certainly complicated.
“I also feel like I’m about to carry you out of here, angel. The question is…are you going out in the gown or the scrubs?”
“Give me privacy. Again, I’m not stripping in front of a man I just met.”
He turned around, giving her his broad back.
“Not leaving me, huh?” She reached back to undo the small ties on the hospital gown. “Guess you got awful attached to me in that coffin.” Light words. Teasing.
“The staff had to fight to keep me from you the whole time I’ve been here.” Not light. Not teasing. Flat. Deep.
“Aw, that’s sweet.” Her hands yanked at the ties. How had they gotten stuck? She ripped. Hard. They tore. The gown dropped in front of her. “You missed me, didn’t you?”
“He’s going to come after you.”
She stopped, mid-motion, as she hauled up the green scrub pants. “Excuse me?”
“He’ll come after you.”
Sloane yanked those pants to her waist and grabbed for the shirt. In a flash, it was over her head and in place. “Hate to break it to you, but I wasn’t the target. You were. I was just collateral damage.” She found herself folding the hospital gown. Putting it on the exam bed. “Done.”
He whipped back around. “I know this MO. It’s pretty damn unmistakable, isn’t it? Especially since I’ve been through every moment before.” Tension poured from Preston’s body. “I know who this sonofabitch is. Or, at least, I know who he wants to be.”
She could not make a sound.
“The Last Breath Killer. He came after me when I was fourteen years old. He buried me alive back then, but I escaped. The authorities chased the bastard. Shot him even as he leapt into a freaking river.”
Sloane swallowed down the lump that had filled her throat.
