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There’s a loud noise, like someone slamming their hand into the counter, and I jump at the suddenness of it. “They planned this whole goddamn thing,” Sloan ground out. “I know they did.”

The last couple of days have been chaotic, to say the least. The guys have been in and out of the house at all hours, disappearing with expressions of grave intent on their faces and then reappearing looking worn down and cranky. From what I can tell, a lot has been happening since the scene at the fight.

The shit has well and truly hit the fan, and that was the tipping point into whatever’s happening now.

I’ve been taking the opportunity to eavesdrop on the three of them whenever I can, and it hasn’t been hard considering Sloan’s like a fucking thundercloud these days, and the other two are trying to provide voices of reason to him whenever they can.

It’s clear they’re upset too, but Sloan seems ready to fly off the handle, which can’t be a good idea.

There’s no clear answer to who started the drama at the fight, and Levi seems to be trying to get Sloan to realize they can’t retaliate.

“If we push back too hard, it’ll make it look like we’re the ones starting shit. They’ll come at us full force, and we’re not ready for that.”

“The hell we’re not,” Sloan shoots back. “We can’t keep letting them—”

“I know. Fuck, I know.”

Levi sounds tired. Like they’ve been over this more than once already. It’s got to chafe at their pride to hold out and do nothing when things are escalating the way they are, but I don’t think any of them want an all-out gang war, even if it seems like that’s what they’re heading toward.

It’s all a giant fucking mess, and tensions are clearly boiling over. I can feel some of that tension in myself as well, because I know I need to act soon if I’m going to be able to capitalize on the confusion to use it for my plan.

Luckily, I don’t have long to wait for an opportunity.

The three of them are rarely gone at the same time. They leave alone or in pairs, so at least one of them is almost always home with me. But whatever’s happening has clearly spilled over enough that it’s all hands on deck, and on Saturday, I open the door to my bedroom to find a silent house.

“Rory?” I call out tentatively. “Levi? Sloan?”

Nothing.

I do a quick sweep of the upstairs and downstairs, and my heart races when I realize I’m completely alone since the last time I went snooping—only this time, I know more than I did before. I know what to look for.

I have no idea how long they’ll be gone for, so I hurry up, padding down the hall to Sloan’s room and easing the door open.

It’s the same minimalist’s dream it was when I was in there last time, though a little bit messier since he hasn’t had much downtime lately.

There are clothes thrown here and there on the floor, and the bed isn’t made. His desk chair is pulled away from the desk, like he got up in a hurry and didn’t push it back in. And of course, on the desk is his laptop.

The one I now know the password to.

I hold my breath a little when I lift the lid and wait for the screen to wake up, rubbing my thumb against my index finger nervously. The prompt for the password pops up, and I type it in from memory, waiting for it to be accepted.

It seems to take longer than it should, and for a second, I worry that Sloan’s changed his password in the last week or so because he’s paranoid or whatever, but then the screen changes, and I’m in.

I go for the contacts app immediately and type in the name of the accountant—Alex. I don’t have a last name, so I hope this will be enough.

The little searching wheel spins for a few seconds but returns no results.

Frowning, I try Alexander. Nothing.

Alex-accountant. Nothing.

No combination of accountant and the guy’s name brings up anything, and I huff with frustration. In a way, it makes sense, I guess. It’s not like Sloan to just leave important information in a place where it would be easy to find, and clearly the contacts app is the first place someone who was snooping would look.

I close out of that tab and go for the notes app, scrolling through the saved notes for any mention of the guy’s name or anything having to do with accountants. I find something from a year ago, but it’s clearly about something completely different.

I don’t know how long it’s been since I started looking, but I know I’m running out of time. It won’t be long before they come back, and if I don’t find what I need now, I probably won’t have another chance for a while.

In a last ditch effort, I navigate to the main folder for Sloan’s files and type in Alexander into the search bar. It takes a lot longer to index all the files and search through them, but finally, I get a hit.


Tags: Eva Ashwood Black Rose Kisses Romance