Fatal (Portland Street Kings Book 2) (11 page)

“You’re getting too close to Della,” Slater states as if answering my question for me. “You need to piss off, take some time and get some pussy, then come back with a clear head.”

Leave? Not see her every day? Suddenly taking my next breath is harder than ever before. It feels as if there’s no air left in my lungs. Looking left and right, struggling to regulate my out of control feelings, I think back through the past few months, trying to find the moment where my world turned upside down.

Lies.

Slaughter.

Lust.

I’m losing myself.
Watching the Kings, it’s so easy. Looking from the outside in, anyone would be jealous of their devotion, loyalty, and strength. It makes you forget who you are and where you came from.

“I agree. It’s for the best,” I state calmly. “I got a friend I’ve been meaning to meet up with for a while, so I’ll head north for a few weeks.”

I turn to leave when Slater sighs and rests his hand on my shoulder. “I do trust you to a degree, Brett. I’ve been burned too many times to give that over completely to anyone except my family. Maybe one day, you keep proving your loyalty, and I’ll call you family.” Slater pats me on the shoulder and walks away.

It’s too late. I’ve already destroyed that which Slater believes is solid.

My heart is tearing in two. One side is set in stone. Justice must be served, she’s a killer. Yet the other side, which can’t seem to let her go, is about to be blown to pieces by my own predestined disloyalty.

Chapter Eight

Mackson

I storm into the garage, slamming the glass sliding door behind me and halt at the workbench. I lean over the greasy surface, my hands bunched into fists as I desperately try to calm my rapid breathing as my heart struggles against my body and mind. I’m fighting every fiber in my muscles and veins, they’re like tiny magnets that are stretching through my skin, trying with all their might to propel me out of this garage, through my house and straight to Lana.
 

She didn’t say a word on the way home from the hospital as if there was nothing left inside of her anymore. I know her heart is truly my other half, because I swear I could hear the fracture through her chest echo around the bathroom when my heart broke alongside hers.
 

Growing up, I never saw Lana stand up for herself, she let things happen and she didn’t change them. The woman I saw today is far from that insecure girl I left behind. She took a hit, and still stood strong wanting to help her brother. I wanted to carry her out of the bathroom and demand she never see him again. It took everything for me to remember I’m not her knight in shining armor, I’m the man she didn’t believe in, someone she let go all too easily.
 

Anger seeps into every crevice and vein in my body. I can’t hold it in any longer. My heart beating uncontrollably, I slam my hands along the workbench, shoving all the tools and engine parts in my way to the ground. Thankfully the thundering of metal hitting the concrete floor drown out my tormented roar. My chest rises and falls painfully. I turn around and stare through the glass doors, up at my home. My eyes feel as if they could burn a hole right through the wall to the bedroom, where I know Lana is probably curled into a ball, crying.

In a perfect world, I’d take her to my bed and make her forget. My fingers would caress every inch of my Dove’s skin, and my stare would convey the thoughts in my mind as I’d remember each and every moment I fell more in love with her. Each thrust inside her would be a new promise that my devotion is forever. My rough kisses would sear Lana’s memories, causing the ashes of the past and present to float away. They have no place in the world or the future I would build just for her. She would never need another person again.
 

But the world I live in is far from perfect.
 

***

Dark shadows begin to creep over the engine I’m working on. Work has been a great distraction to stop my mind from wandering back to Lana. I think about turning on the garage lights to keep going, but I decide it’s time to call it a day. If I could stay out here until I know my brothers are asleep to avoid their knowing stares, I would, but I’ve held myself off as long as I can to go in and check on Lana.

I hope she’s eaten, showered and talked to one or all my brothers. I hope she gets all the shit she’s been through today off her chest because I don’t know if I can keep my distance if I see her break down again.

I scrub my hands with soap in the garage sink, dry them and walk out through the glass door I almost shattered earlier when I felt so raw. Walking across my backyard, the first thing I notice is the fresh-cut grass. I shake my head, surprised I’d gone so far into my own head that I never once heard one of my brothers use the mower. Almost to the backdoor, the smell of fryer grease and spices hit me. My stomach rumbles, reminding me I haven’t eaten since breakfast.

I step inside and as I do, Kelso’s horrible out-of-tune singing voice hits me and I cringe at the sound. He’s doing equally bad dance moves standing over the stove with earphones in. A soft giggle to my right gets my attention and I find Piper watching Kelso while she stands behind Pacer at the entry of the kitchen. There’s a phone in Pacer’s hand, the camera pointed directly at Kelso, who must be making his favorite stir-fry, the one he puts a fuck-load of spices into.

I can’t help the grin that appears on my face, because when Kel finds out Pacer filmed him, it’s going to be on. Last time those two went at it, they almost broke all the photo frames in the house. Della had a shit fit and tipped the television forward and threatening to break it if they didn’t stop. Slater put the boys on their asses quickly at that point. We all know not to mess with Slater’s favorite toys. And after his Chevy car, that’s the television and PlayStation. Well, except our little sister, she can get away with pretty much everything.
 

My guess is that Piper and Pacer are using Kelso for their entertainment because Slater’s pride and joy big ass flat screen was destroyed in the shooting Rex ordered. We’ve managed to get the windows replaced and Pacer has started filling the holes in the drywalls with plaster and sanding them back. There’s no new television yet as we need to get the outside and inside back to normal first, so when Della comes home, there’s nothing to remind her of the shooting.
 

I sense someone beside me and glance to my right. I find Piper staring up at me with a strained smile.
 

“Just thought you might want to know that Lana hasn’t come out of the room today… not once.” Her voice drops until it’s merely a quiet mutter. “She must be starving.”

My heart grows heavy and sadness floods my chest. As much as Lana hurt me—ruined a piece of me that will never look toward the future for anything bright again—I know she’s also been destroyed time and time again by her mother, father, and now by her brother.
 

Enough is enough. My heart might still be broken, but I don’t want my name added to that list. At the end of my life or Lana’s, that’s not how I want her to remember me.
 

“I’ve tried to speak to her,” Piper adds. “Either she’s not ready to talk or I’m not the one she wants to talk to.” Piper shrugs and walks out of the kitchen.
 

For someone who claims not to be nosey Piper sure as shit has a lot to say. I walk further into the kitchen and witness Pacer almost falling on his ass from laughter, while struggling to hold the phone up and continue to film.

I grab a bowl out of the cupboard and flick Kelso on the back of his ear to get his attention. He jolts alert, and then out of the corner of my eye I see Pacer frantically pocketing his phone and racing out of the kitchen.
 

Kelso rubs his ear, cursing under his breath before he pulls out his earphones and tucks them into the back pocket of his jeans.
 

“That ready?” I gesture to the stir-fry.
 

“Yeah. What, you hungry after spending the day hiding away in the garage?”

“Shut up and give me some food,” I reply, not in the mood to deal with my punk-ass little brother.
 

Kel fills the bowl while I grab a fork, and once he hands me back the bowl now full of food, I leave the kitchen without another word.
 

Starting up the stairs, I look to the door that leads to the woman who has given me my greatest happiness and my indestructible wall to keep out others like her. She’s my addiction, a dangerous obsession I can’t shake. She’s the most important part of me, even gone and unseen, she’s entwined in my heart deep enough that it beats solely because she still breathes.

I go to her room, feeling the warmth of the bowl in my hands, hoping she eats some of it, and also praying that when she tastes it she doesn’t start choking from the amount of spices Kel chucks in his food. I think about what I’m going to say.
Don’t be a dick; get along for the next few minutes.

I don’t knock and enter. I decide she’ll see me whether she wants to or not.
Christ. Okay, too late, I’m in the room. Don’t be a dick, starting now.

I search the room and find Lana on the bed, wrapped up in the blankets, fast asleep. I walk quietly to the side of the bed and then curse the moon. It’s soft light streaks across Lana’s soft features, causing her already beautiful face to appear angelic. Her blonde hair fans out over the pillow and her two hands press together under her left cheek. I know she hasn’t been asleep for long because I can still see the wet paths where her tears have fallen.

Quickly, I grasp the bowl with two hands, stopping my need to reach out and wipe away the tear tracks. My stomach churns as desperation creeps in. My biggest internal struggle is pushing Lana away to protect myself, yet longing to have her near.

What I said yesterday, that I hate to love her, it’s true. I’ve hated wondering what she’s been doing for the past five years. I’ve loathed the fact that I’ve looked for her in crowds and have been disappointed when I didn’t see her. I resent the fact that I’ve looked for pieces of her in women that I’ve dated. When they’ve shown me selfishness, I’ve thought about Lana’s generosity. When they’ve shown me vanity, I’ve thought of Lana’s modest, humble approach to her looks.

Worse of all was when they’d look me in the eyes and all I saw was blue, brown and green, no spark of fire lit inside of me, or them, and yet they were content to keep pretending. I couldn’t and never would be able to. I’ve held real love in my hands. I know with a simple touch my heart can beat at an unknown speed. I’ve felt the high of looking across the room, seeing the one person who makes me feel invincible.

I’ve always tried my best at everything, failing never used to scare me. That feeling went from being my normal confident nature to a euphoric sensation when I finally had Lana in my bed, head and heart. Knowing at the end of every day, Lana was mine. Knowing I was able to rest my head next to hers for the rest of my life, whether it was under a mansion or a crumbling shack, nothing else mattered. Failing with her beside me would never truly be defeat, I’d already won.

Lana cut me to the core. She demolished all we’d built. It was weeks later when I realized she hadn’t only taken my heart, but also my future too. Nothing had color anymore.

I willingly let her in, and she left a mark. She scarred me beyond repair, brought me to my knees and broke me. She gave me hope and then all I was left with was longing, agonizing craving for the woman who shattered my heart.

Five years later, and staring at her now, I wonder how the hell I held myself back for so long. How did my pride grow stronger than my heart?

I move quickly to the door and close it quietly. However, I’m unable to step away. I slide down the wall and rest my head against it. Exhaling loudly, I turn my head toward the room. I’m exhausted as if five years of heartbreak just passed through me like a ghost.
 

***

Lana

I wake to darkness and a fresh breeze flowing in through the nearby window. Touching my left cheek, I remember the sting from my brother’s slap and the burning through my chest. A line I never thought would exist was crossed today, one that cannot be taken back.
 

My stomach grumbles, so I decide to head downstairs and get something to eat. I quietly walk to the door not wanting to wake anybody. I don’t want their looks of pity or worried glances. I don’t want a reminder of the day, just thoughts on how I’m going to move forward now, where I’m going to live and what I’m going to do for money. I have a bit in my savings, but not enough to rent a house and buy all the things that I’d need to live in it.
 

Turning the handle on the door, I open it slowly and peek out through the crack. My eyes widen in surprise when I spot Mack sitting against the wall next to my door, fast asleep with an empty bowl beside him. Opening the door wider to step out, I cringe as the door creaks. Mackson doesn’t stir, he stays fast asleep, and the look on his face is one of peace.
 

My heart twists when I realize I’d forgotten what he looked like when he was sleeping. His lips always parted slightly and pouted, his features softened, and his messy hair gave him an adorable look that anyone would have trouble pulling their eyes away from.

I sigh. What I wouldn’t give to be the woman in his life who was allowed to smooth down that hair and snuggle in between his legs and arms. I could sleep right there, in his arms sitting up, nothing in this world is more comfortable than being held by Mack. Trust me, I’ve tried to find other ways, other men. Nothing compares.

My limbs grow heavy and I wonder how I’ve gone on pretending so well for the past five years with this hole in my heart. I always thought the key was to ignore those feelings, the loss. But seeing him again, knowing my feelings are stronger now than years ago, moving away might be all I have left. So I can save the rest of my heart, and hopefully someone will accept what’s left of it.