So Carter learning where the Elite had gone after the game was a cinch with social media.
Brock’s lips turned into a deeper frown. “He must have waited until we were all inside the bar and used the opportunity to plant the device.”
Grayson’s foot tapped on the ground as he asked me, “Any chance your new form of employment has cameras?”
I hadn’t noticed any, and Lazy Rays didn’t seem like the kind of place that spent money on security. “Doubtful, and even if they did by some chance, I’m sure the police have already confiscated them.”
“We can’t rely on Elmwood PD to do their job,” Brock said. “They’ve turned the cheek at his indiscretions for too long. I’m done playing by the rules.”
I didn’t like the sound of his tone. Sitting up, I took the hand that had been on my leg and interlaced our fingers. “He isn’t worth ruining your life over. I’m not going to let you do anything that ends with either of you behind bars.” I pointedly looked at Grayson and Brock to get my point across, not that it did much good, because neither of them ever listened to me.
“You’re not into guys in orange jumpsuits?” Kenna quipped, trying to add humor to the serious vibe that had descended onto the room like a dark cloud, while also taking a jab at me.
“If anyone could make prison clothes look hot, it’s Brock,” I countered. “But not the point. The only person wearing an inmate ensemble will be Carter.” Which reminded me of what Brock had mentioned about Carter texting. What better time to circle back around to that quickly mentioned tidbit of information? I flipped my focus to Brock. “What other texts has Carter sent you?”
But it was Grayson who replied. “It’s not just Brock. He’s been sending us all threatening messages.”
I threw my hands in the air. “I can’t believe you guys are still keeping fucking secrets. I thought I was one of you, part of the Elite,” I said, marking the air with quotes.
“Some shit never changes,” Kenna remarked, shaking her head, looking unfazed. “Did they actually say you were one of them?”
I didn’t see how that was relevant to our situation, but whatever. “They did. And if one of you tries to tell me it was because you were protecting me, I’ll hit you. And not a girly slap.”
Grayson rubbed at his jaw as if was imagining just how hard I might be able to deck him. It might not knock him out cold, but I could promise that it would hurt.
Brock’s expression closed off. “The truth is you don’t want to see the shit he sent. It was meant to provoke a fight. He is trying to bait us into making a stupid move.”
“Brock,” I snapped.
“I deleted them.”
“Same,” Grayson echoed, following suit.
“Bullshit,” I said, the word flying out of my mouth as I glared at both of them fiercely.
“Show her the photos,” Kenna baited, and I wasn’t quite happy with the tone of her voice.
But neither Grayson nor Brock was budging. “Look, it’s been a long night. Why don’t we just go to bed?” Grayson suggested, smoothly attempting to derail us from the messages. “We can talk about this in the morning after we’ve gotten some sleep and cleaned up,” he added, noting the arguments brewing in Kenna and my eyes. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m dying to get out of these clothes.” He tugged on the corner of his shirt, sooty. We all smelled like we had just come home from a bonfire.
The truth was, I was fucking exhausted, and the mention of going to bed had my sore bones groaning. “Burn them?” I didn’t intend to be funny, but I couldn’t hold back the comment.
Grayson’s lips twitched. “Something like that,” he said, inching forward in the chair to stand up.
“Fine. Whatever,” Kenna huffed, surging to her feet. “It’s not like anyone will miss me.” And with that flippant statement, she tossed her hair over her shoulder and stormed out of the room.