He was fucking livid.
“This.” He held up his phone for me to read the text sprawled across the screen.AN EYE FOR AN EYE. OR A CAR FOR A CAR. CHECK.
I welcomed the sudden surge of anger. It was better than being afraid. “Asshole,” I hissed under my breath. “He won’t stop until he kills one of us.”
Brock’s aqua eyes blazed. “If he had seriously hurt you—”
I placed my hand on his arm, halting him. Brock glanced down at me. “He didn’t. You made sure of that.”
A rare flicker of remorse passed through his eyes. “What if I hadn’t been quick enough? What if you had gotten into the car?”
I shook my head. “Don’t. You can’t let yourself go there.” If only I could take my own advice and stop my dark thoughts. The image of Brock opening his car door played over and over since the explosion. No, that hadn’t happened, but I could envision it all too well. “You should show the text to the officer,” I suggested.
“It’s from an anonymous number,” he replied. “I can’t prove it was Carter.”
Mads just finished giving her statement to the policeman as Brock and I rejoined the group. Kenna stopped chewing on her nails when she noticed Brock, but it looked as if she had already done a number to her manicure. She straightened from Mads’s car as if she was going to come stand beside us, until her eyes shifted to me and she remembered Brock wasn’t alone. She leaned back against the car and huffed, “I don’t understand. Why would Carter try to kill you? Is this about me, because I came back?”
I almost snorted but managed to quickly snuff it out. Of course, Kenna would think Carter blowing up Brock’s car was about her, because everything was about her. Okay, maybe not fair, but if there were a few things I’d learned about my sister over the last week, it was she liked to be the center of attention. She liked people dotting on her and getting her way.
Most people would describe Kenna as sweet and innocent, but I was beginning to believe it was an act, something she did deliberately—a persona. I’d even go as far as calling it manipulation.
Brock shook his head, eyes hard as granite. “No. It might have started with you. But this thing with Carter and me, it’s gone beyond seeking justice. He knows the shit I have on him, and he wants revenge. It’s about stopping me. And how he can hurt me. I have something he desperately wants to get his hands on.”
The Elite and Mads all looked at me.
I swallowed, a shiver of disgust rolling through me.
“You’re kidding,” Kenna said on a puff of sarcasm. “Josie.”
“I wish this was a joke,” Brock said soberly.
My arms went around me, seeking some semblance of heat to chase the chill that took up residency within me.
Brock’s eyes blazed, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “He’s been sending me texts all week, using Josie to taunt me because he knows that is the one button he can push to get a response from me.”
“What?” I spun and faced him. “You haven’t mentioned anything about texts. What did they say?”
“Later,” Brock said, voice strained. His gaze lifted over my head.
I turned to see what grabbed his attention, expecting it to be one of the officers looking to speak to us again.
Wrong.
A black Town Car had pulled into the parking lot, and Chandler Edwards stepped out of the vehicle looking like a mob lord. Something dangerous and fierce reflected in my biological father’s features, a don’t-fuck-with-me sternness I’d caught glimpses of on Grayson before.
His striped suit was pressed, minus the jacket that probably hung on the back of the passenger seat, and his white shirt was crisp, the top button undone. A simple gold chain hung around his neck, thin and expensive.
Kenna dashed to Chandler. He embraced her in a comforting hug as his eyes scanned over faces, finding Grayson and lastly me. A sense of relief eased some of the tension gathered around his eyes. Keeping an arm around Kenna, Chandler strolled to where we were. “Has everyone been checked out by medical?”
Grayson nodded. “Yeah, no one was seriously injured,” he informed our father.
“You’re lucky. Things could have been worse. Grayson gave me a quick summary of what happened on the phone. I know it would never be your intention to put my daughters in harm, and I want to thank you for keeping them safe.” He spoke to Fynn, Brock, and Micah, glancing at each of them in the eyes. Respect and appreciation shone for them, despite the hardness that was still etched into his face.
“It’s what we do. They never should have been put in danger to begin with,” Brock said.
“I agree, but we’ll deal with that later.” He shifted to Grayson. “I haven’t told your mother what happened. I didn’t want to worry her until I’d seen the three of you for myself. Now that I have, I’m going to speak with the officers. Stay here. And then I’m taking you home.”
Seeing Chandler made me wonder if I should call Easton. A part of me really wanted to, but a larger part of me realized it would make the situation awkward, and we already had too much to deal with.