Fatal (Portland Street Kings Book 2) (3 page)

Mack has heard it all before, this isn’t the first time my father has put me in my place with other people around. Embarrassed me in front of the boy I secretly crush on. Sensing Mack stop at my back, I can hear his heavy breaths along with the pounding rain on the cement road. 

If it weren’t for the strange crackling energy that’s always present when I’m near him, I wouldn’t think Mack was still standing behind me. However, I know he is and I’m afraid to turn around, to see the pity in his eyes. Does he believe my father’s words? Has he already seen how worthless I am? 

Someone who runs away when things get hard, just like my mother. 

“Lana.” 

I clench my eyes closed when I hear the sympathy in his voice. I don’t want Mackson to feel sorry for me. I don’t need to see the pain in my heart written on someone else’s face. 

Pressing my lips together firmly, I shake my head. Fisting my hands, I continue to walk straight ahead. I can’t bear to turn around and see Mackson—a boy who lives on the streets, who has to steal to eat, a boy who has nothing—look at me with pity. I don’t deserve it. I have everything; a home, a brother who somewhat takes care of me, and a father who may not like me, but does feed me. I go to school and I have good clothes. I’m being selfish and I don’t want Mack to see me this way. Self-centered and wishing away what I’m sure he would kill to have.

I sense footsteps behind me. My heart begins to thump wildly. He’s following me? All of a sudden a wet, cold hand grasps my arm and I’m spun around. My eyes find Mack’s and there it is, the pain he feels for me, the pain I don’t deserve.

God, my father is right. I only ever think about myself.

“I’m fine, Mack. What are you doing out here? Go inside, I’m just being stupid.”

“Stop that,” he admonishes. “You’re not stupid. Your father is an asshole and I came out here to tell you he’s wrong. You are pretty… the most beautiful girl inside and out.” My breath whooshes out of me from his words. “I see you Lana, who you really are. You take good care of your brother and father. You cook and clean and your smile, if only you could see the people around you when you smile. The guys, your brother’s friends, all of them stare at you especially when you smile. You laugh at lame jokes and you listen, you truly listen when people talk to you. Your father is wrong about you. You’re one of a kind, not just a pretty girl, but a good person too. You’re going to get out of here and fly away, just like a dove. Because you deserve better.”

Mack peers downward at his shoes and then back up to me. He pushes his wet hair out of his eyes and runs his hand through his hair. His eyes pierce mine, telling me something, but I’m unsure exactly what it is. “Don’t let him win, Lana. Take it from me. Other peoples’ sins don’t have to be your downfall.”

Breathing becomes impossible, each inhale a struggle as I try to hold back my emotions. If I exhale, I fear I’ll crumble and show how badly broken I am to the boy of my dreams. 

I always fantasize that Mackson King will ask me out, to the park, a walk maybe. But this is something else entirely. He’s observing me, truly looking at me and seeing who I am. Who I always wanted to be, who I constantly felt I was but kept questioning, kept wondering if it was my vision which was distorted and not my father’s. 

Before I can even fathom a reply Mack turns around and walks back toward my house, but he doesn’t turn into my yard, he keeps going and I stand here staring at his back until he disappears into the dark of the night. 

With the rain easing, I look up into the night sky and search out into the vast universe feeling my lips tip up into a smile. My heart feels lighter and suddenly my future looks a little bit brighter.
 

2004 

Playing basketball with the guys today, my hand touched Mackson’s, twice. The first time he was surprised and quickly moved it. The second time he held it still a moment longer than he needed to. My heart thumped wildly, and for the first time ever, I thought it would jump right out of my chest. 

2005 

I kneel beside my house, threading the chain through my bike, locking it up for the day. Hearing leaves crunching behind me, I glance over my shoulder to see Mack walking over to me, his head down, hands in his pockets.

I adore his presence. He’s not like the other guys who hang around my brother; they’re always loud and bossy. Mack is quiet, yet when he speaks everyone stops and listens to him. He’s the type of guy who doesn’t try too hard to get noticed because it’s natural for him.

I lock my chain and stand to turn toward Mack.

He stops close and looks up at me quickly before glancing away and inquiring, “I heard Corey asked you out?”

My heart stutters and I try hard to mask the evidence of my surprise and joy.
 

He’s interested about a boy who asked me out?

“Yes,” I cough after my one-word answer, trying to give myself time to come up with something better. “Yep, he sure did.”

Mack’s eyes meet mine, but this time they stay fixed on me. “What are you gonna say?”

He wants to know what I’m going to say?

I say nothing for a long moment thinking over the reasons why Mackson wants to know what my answer to Corey will be. Does he want me to say no, so he can ask me out? Is he only curious? When enough time passes, I know I need to say something so, I decide to just be honest.

“I’m going to say no. I don’t like Corey that way.”

Please ask me out, please.

Mack nods his head slowly, glances around the yard awkwardly and then says, “Well, I gotta go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I release a heavy sigh and my shoulders slump in disappointment.

Mackson walks off quickly, out of my yard and onto the road toward Portland, toward one of his homes. I’m not sure which one they’re in at the moment. I’ve heard it’s either boxes in a park or abandoned houses and factories. Rex won’t let me go with him when he visits them; he says it’s dangerous, that there are too many other homeless people who are bad. So instead, I’m left at home with a father who berates me every chance he gets, but at least, he’s the kind of bad I know I can handle.

2008

I run into my house, tears cascading down my cheeks. I hiccup as I pass my father getting a drink from the fridge. Slamming my bedroom door closed, I throw my college bag down on the ground. 

A burst of air hits the back of my neck as my bedroom door suddenly swings open. “Don’t you fucking dare slam the doors in my house! You got that, Lana?” my father grates out in an angry drunken slur. 

I don’t answer him. I wait to see if his stare flickers over my red-rimmed eyes or the sadness still falling down his daughter’s face. 

“Just because you’re a lazy bitch who thinks reading at college is better than actual real work. I had to fucking work hard for this house, so don’t think you can come in here and slam my goddamn fucking doors.” 

I nod. Knowing any indication that I heard him will have him leaving my presence.
 

Growing up with my dad, I can understand why my mother left. What I can’t fathom is why she didn’t take her children with her. My dad shreds my confidence day in and day out, but I hate my mother more.

He turns his back on me, grumbles something and walks down the hall. The next sound I hear is the front door slamming closed and his Ford pickup start and screech down the road.

Please hit a tree. I wipe the thought from my mind, desperate to forget that I’ve wished for my father’s death.

I hear the familiar sound of the front door opening and know it’s the person I was just running from. I close my bedroom door quickly and lean on it with all my strength. He’ll come barreling through here at any moment. As I place my feet against the leg of my bed, my door handle rattles and the door opens slightly and then slams closed quickly with the weight of my body

“Lana, open the damn door,” my brother demands.

If my father were home now, he’d ignore all this. He knows exactly when to catch me on my own to throw his hateful words.

“Get lost, Rex,” I say through the door.

Suddenly the door opens again and slams closed. Repeatedly, my brother pushes while I desperately try to seal it shut. Nevertheless, I’m not strong enough when my bed begins to slide along the carpet. I growl in frustration and let the door go and Rex rushes in with another giant push.

I turn with my feet apart and hands clenched. “Why can’t you and everyone else just leave me alone and stay out of my personal life?” I ask in a frustrated tone.

“He deserved that beating, Lana. Mack saw him Saturday night at a party with another chick. He was making out with her in front of everyone, disrespecting you.”

I groan. “I know, Rex. Mack came and told me yesterday. I already talked to Brad. He said it was a mistake, he apologized and said it wouldn’t ever happen again.”

Rex steps back as if I hit him. I know why, respect. It’s everything to him, to all the guys. It’s like their bible, their code, it’s going to send them all to jail one day. 

“You fucking believe the slimy cunt wouldn’t do that to you again? Lana, once a cheater always a cheater, fucking trust me. I know how guys’ minds work. I’m not asking, I’m telling you to stay the fuck away from him or he’s gonna get worse next time.” 

And with that, Rex leaves the room, like the hand of God just laid down the rules. I’ve been given my orders and they aren’t to be taken lightly. 

Rex, Corey, and Kodi are now the Parkland Poison Boys and they’re called that for a reason. They aren’t kids anymore. Currently, they’re Parkland’s most feared gang. I don’t know what they’re into, but I know it’s bad and I know they all take it very seriously. I hear about break-ins, fights, and my friends talk about seeing them run through their backyards right before the police come knocking, asking if they’ve seen any young men around the streets. 

There’s a tap on my window and I jump from fright, too lost in my own thoughts. It’s Mackson. I want to open my window just to slam it back down in his face. He flicks his head to the left asking me to come outside. My legs move before I give them permission to. My heart overriding my mind, going to the one man who’s owned it all along. 

I stop at the back screen door and wipe my face clean of tears, hoping no trace of my sadness is left behind. Stepping through the screen door, I walk down the cement path toward the fence where Mackson is leaning, waiting for me. The screen creaks shut behind me and the sun's summer heat warms my skin. 

Mackson begins rubbing at the back of his neck apprehensively. I stop about a meter away from him, folding my arms over my chest, not wanting to get too close. I’m not sure if it’s because I might slap him or because I don’t like the way my body reacts when I’m near him. When I know he’ll never be mine because over the years he’s had hundreds of chances to make me his. But he’s never made a move, only continued to treat me as a friend. 

“What do you want, Mackson? If you’re here to say you’re sorry for telling Rex exactly what I asked you not to, get it over and done with and then I don’t want to talk to you ever again.” My tone is accusing and cold.

“I knew you’d be angry and I’m good with that,” Mack replies in a calm, husky tone. I swear his voice gets deeper every year, a sound I grow more addicted to every time I hear it. Today will not be one of those days.

My eyes narrow and I straighten my arms out, clenching my fists in irritation, ready to give Mackson a serving, but before I can spit out my first word he beats me to it.

“You won’t stick up for yourself, Lana, then I’ll do it for you. And I’ll tell whoever the fuck I have to in order to make it happen.”

My mouth falls open, making me look like a fool, but I have no idea what to say at this point. My throat closes up as my frustration builds, but I push the emotion back because Mackson’s right.

I wanted to scream at Brad. I wanted to hit him and tell him we’re over. However, the pressure on my chest was too great, as I sensed myself building to fight, I held back and it makes me feel ill.

Years of lowering my eyes to the ground and listening to my father’s venomous words have really fucked me up. Now all the damn men in my life keep walking all over me. It makes me want to run, race as fast as I can in the other direction, because staying and fighting isn’t my style.

How does a woman who’s still very much a child at heart, find the courage to take a power that I never had to begin with?

My eyes lower automatically and I frown.

Warm fingers lift my chin and my glassy eyes meet Mackson’s sad ones. “I never thought I’d be someone who made you sad, Dove.” My heart stutters at the nickname Mack only uses when we’re alone. “Still, I’m not sorry it’s over between you and Brad, assholes aren’t your future, Lana.”

“My father would say otherwise,” I whisper bitterly and pull my face from Mackson’s grasp. 

“Your father is a fool,” Mack growls angrily, his eyes piercing daggers toward my house. 

“Mack,” I call his name and my voice cracks at the end. His furious gaze swings to me and the fire in his eyes melts away. 

“How is it out of everyone in my life, you’re the only one who chooses to look beyond the surface? Who thinks I’m better than what I am?” 

Mack steps forward with his eyes piercing mine. He places his soft, warm hands against my cheeks. “I don’t choose. I’ve only ever seen what’s true.” 

We stand in silence for a moment before unexpectedly, Mack’s large, calloused hands moves from my face to the back of my neck. His body presses up against mine. My forehead furrows as my eyes search his. 

And then suddenly, I feel his warm lips on mine. I inhale sharply, taken completely by surprise. Our breaths mingle and my heart flutters to new heights. Mackson’s kiss is gentle, opposite to what I expected from a man like him. His reputation tells a grisly tale that if you were to cross him or his family, you’d be lucky to come out alive. Even so, his hands and mouth hold me as if I’m significant, someone worth handling with care.