Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 94692 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94692 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
“You’re doing it again!” Noa cried out. “You just wanna torture us! Daddy! We’re innocent! Tell him!”
When Reese disappeared inside, we followed again, because we had to talk shit out. I didn’t believe it was the brats this time around.
“I’ll stay out here,” Nate said.
“Me too.” Greer leaned against the doorway. “There’s more to watch.”
Fair enough. We needed all the details we could collect.
Reese went over to the bar, and I barely registered what they’d done to the club area. But damn, shit was fancy. No balloons or streamers here, just classy drapes and vases with flowers. They’d polished the old chandelier too.
“You don’t think it’s the brats either,” Colt stated.
“Correct.” Reese grabbed himself a beer from the fridge and offered two to us as well. “I wouldn’t have warned them about the interrogation if I did.”
Of course. That would give them a chance to go over their story.
I twisted the cap off my beer.
“You’re not joining the Game part tomorrow, are you?” he asked me.
I shook my head. “We wanna focus on James and Jordan.”
Plus, it was so late in the game, no pun intended. We were down to the last one or two monthly Games before they restarted the event year with something else entirely. I’d rather get on board with that.
“Would you be able to interrogate someone?” he asked. “Because the way I figure, our best interrogators are KC, Kingsley, you, Walker, and River and me, if we do it together. Colt and Greer are obviously solid—”
“Oof, no need to butter me up—that ain’t my specialty.” Colt slid onto a stool. “I’d do all right with the brats, but once we cross over to the mindfuck fighters, I’ll lose my patience.”
“And I think that’s who we gotta target,” Reese finished, eyeing me.
“There’s always time for an interrogation,” I answered. “Sign me up.”
“Fantastic. Who are your suspects?”
Colt replied first. “Tate, Macklin—”
“Who’s not even here,” I said.
“No, but he makes it a point to know shit that’s going on in the community,” he said.
He wasn’t wrong.
“So, Tate, Macklin, Nora, and—actually, Jack,” Colt summarized. “I know, I know. Jack’s a Dom. He’s on our side and whatever. But he’s also close with Tate. They share a dynamic.”
True, true.
Reese rubbed his jaw and glanced at me.
“I suspect Tate and Nora too,” I said. “And, honestly, your boy.”
He nodded and dropped his stare to the floor. “Yeah. The thought did cross my mind. He’s gotten a lot better, but he has a tell. He switches to aloof even when aloof doesn’t belong.” He cleared his throat. “Listen, I’m gonna talk to River when he gets here, and I wanna check out Shay’s online activity. Talk to August too. Whoever the pranksters are teaming up with, they’re decent at tech. It’s no coincidence they made sure a lot of people were present for those messages.”
“Isn’t that a service you can buy online?” I wondered.
“Yeah, but they still built their own little website and knew who to send the message to and when. Think about it. We got no reactions from the patio when the first text went out. Only a few of us on the front of the house received that.”
I took a swig of my beer. He had a point. We would’ve arrived to a flurry of speculation if anyone back there had gotten the same text.
“You’re close with KC, right?”
I inclined my head. “Sure.”
He nodded too. “I want you and him to take on Shay and Nora. Kingsley, River, and I will handle Tate, Macklin, and possibly Lane.”
“You suspect him?” Colt asked.
“I don’t know yet.” Reese ran a hand through his hair. “Maybe it’s more possible guilt by association. He’s tight with both Nora and Shay.” He paused. “Jack’s not a bad guess either. We have to consider the possibility of players switching sides for the fun of it. We’re opportunists and reaction whores, the whole lot of us.”
I’d drink to that. But Christ. Pointing out possible suspects on our side was a whole other can of worms.
I took another swig, thinking about it.
Who could—
No.
Who would…
The three of us sat there in silence, probably thinking the same thing.
Which one—or several—of us, in our friendly, sadistic group of buddies, would fuck over the rest for a laugh?
Colt made a face. “You reckon Kingsley could…? I’m just thinkin’—their whole dynamic. Kingsley, Tate, Jack, and Franklin, getting drunk during a couples’ dinner, Tate probably has an idea, a few more glasses of wine, and then Jack thinks it’s funny as hell, and once Franklin’s on board, Kingsley folds.”
Reese hesitated at first, but he couldn’t deny it either. It could happen. The problem was, that could be all of us. Pulling a prank on everyone like that? It wouldn’t be the craziest thing that’d happened out here. Hell, I could picture the Tenleys doing it any day of the week.