Chapter 26
ASHLEY
Sir Carter: You okay? You’re frowning
Spark: Why are you texting me? I’m right here.
Sir Carter: I know, but you were looking at your phone and frowning, so I figured I’d text. So?
Spark: You’re cute.
Sir Carter: Wash your mouth out. I’m handsome, sexy, hot…not cute. Bunnies are cute.
Spark: Stop it, I nearly choked on my drink.
Sir Carter: Ah, but you laughed, so my plan worked.
A nxiety seemed to be my constant companion these days.
When we left the basement and Nate closed the secret door, I stood there for what felt like forever, unable to shake the feeling that someone would surely find it.
Someone was going to go in there, discover all the bodies, report it to the police, then they’d find all our DNA everywhere and…
Nate had then forcefully dragged me away while Heath asked if I could help bandage up his knuckles, which were bleeding profusely. It gave me something productive to focus on, long enough that we could wash up and return to our apartment before the anxiety set in again.
“Remind me again why we think your grandfather can fix this, Heath?” I asked for not the first time. “Isn’t he in music production? Recording?”
“Yes, but he is also old guard Devil’s Backbone,” Heath explained patiently.
“My whole family is legacy, dating back to the creation of the society. It’s a whole point of pride for the old man.
He has connections that go higher than our local elders council, and he would have never crossed paths with Jocelyn to be manipulated by her.
He’s…I don’t want to say trustworthy because he’s a ruthless viper, but in this case, I believe he will help us. ”
“Not to mention,” Carter added with a smirk, “the idea of his grandson being charged with murder would be awful for business.”
I scoffed. “Rich people have some fucked priorities, but I guess it works for us.”
Heath’s phone rang, interrupting us, and I glanced down at my phone to find another text from Carter.
I was sitting in the big, comfy armchair that Nate usually claimed, and he was on the sofa opposite, separated by only the coffee table.
But he was texting me, and it was adorable enough that I was replying via text instead of out loud.
Sir Carter: Can I take you out on Friday night? Just us?
My brows rose, and I met his curious gaze across the room while Heath paced the room as he spoke quietly to his grandfather. Carter tilted his head to the side in question, and I bit my cheek to hold back a lovestruck smile.
He’d changed his name in my phone to Sir Carter a couple of days ago, and I wasn’t mad about it. What’d started as a joke now reminded me of how worked up he got during sex when I said it.
Spark: Like a date?
His lips curled up as he read my reply, then typed out a response.
Sir Carter: Exactly that. Somewhere that doesn’t require a tux or designer ball gown…if that’s okay with you?
I grinned, nodding at him, and he crooked his finger, gesturing for me to come over to him. Still smiling, I shook my head in denial.
His eyes narrowed, then dipped to his phone once more. It was no surprise to see my own light up a second later.
Sir Carter: Come here.
My insides fluttered with something only slightly removed from anxiety but much more welcome. I wet my lips, debating how hard to deny when I wanted to go over to him…but I also wanted to annoy him for the fun of it.
Spark: You come here.
He read my message, then looked up at me with a flash of surprise.
But that expression quickly darkened as he pursed his lips and looked back to his phone.
Right when I thought I was about to be warned about consequences—hopefully involving his hand and my ass—Heath finished his call and flopped onto the sofa with a heavy sigh.
“Everything okay?” Carter asked, putting his phone away once more.
Damn it, he hadn’t sent whatever he was typing.
“Yeah, all good,” Heath replied. “They’ve got a team coming in from Philadelphia to clean up and investigate—and appoint some new elders to our council. He was pretty upset about the whole thing but more about us being hurt than anything.”
He rubbed a hand over his face, then winced and looked at his bandaged knuckles. They’d been pretty bad in a couple of places—as had Carter’s and Nate’s—which we attributed to the fact they’d punched too many hard masks.
I got out of my seat and moved to sit with Heath on the sofa, taking his bandaged hand in mine to link our fingers. Then I smirked at Carter, who glared back at me with heated eyes. Oops.
“Well, I’m glad to hear he isn’t turning us in to authorities,” I said, pretending I hadn’t noticed Carter’s reaction. “Though I’m a little terrified about the reach of the DB network now. How sure are we that Jocelyn hasn’t messed around in the other elders’ heads too?”
Heath sighed, shrugging. “We aren’t. But if we continue to treat everyone around us with suspicion, it’ll eventually drive us crazy.”
A cold chill ran down my spine as he said that, because he was one hundred percent correct.
Was that what Jocelyn had thought she was achieving by locking me up in Mallard?
She’d thought she was planting enough self-doubt that I would no longer trust anyone around me and, therefore, slowly go insane feeling so isolated and alone?
Well, she’d misfired. It hadn’t shaken my trust of the guys for even a moment. Once I’d worked out that I hadn’t imagined everything, that was.
Outside of our circle, though? Yeah, everyone was a suspect. Shit. That was no doubt what she wanted, but what else could we really do? So long as we had one another…
“Royce and Nate should be back with pizza in a few minutes,” Carter mentioned, pushing up from his seat. “Can I speak with you alone for a moment, Spark?” He didn’t wait for my reply as he headed down the corridor to my room, and I swallowed hard with anticipation.
“You’re in trouble,” Heath chuckled. “How did that happen?”
I grinned, shrugging. “Who knows? Trouble seems to find me.”
“You can say that again,” he agreed, pulling me into his lap and holding me tight. “Do you want to go see what he wants to talk about or stay here with me to make him wait?”
“Make him wait,” I answered without hesitation, giggling a little nervously as I glanced toward the corridor. At this point, surely he’d have been disappointed if I just did what I was told the first time?
Heath hummed his approval, shifting our position so I could sit between his legs as he fired up the gaming console and browsed through the games.
He handed me a controller, and I lay comfortably against his chest as he clicked into our favorite two-player game at the moment.
It was one that featured two little string people tied together so you had to work together to make progress.
Royce and Carter hated it, but Heath and I were great at it.
When the boys arrived home with pizzas sometime later, Carter rejoined us and shot me a glance that promised consequences later. I blew him a kiss and made myself more than comfortable in Royce’s lap to eat my dinner while Heath flicked our game over to a movie.
I was actually looking forward to alone time with Carter—if also a little scared—but the stress of the day hit me like a ton of bricks, and I fell asleep on Royce’s shoulder with a half-eaten slice of pizza in my hand.
I woke up enough to know Carter was the one who carried me to bed and tucked me in, but he just kissed my cheek softly and left me to sleep.
The next morning, I woke to the unusual smell of freshly baked muffins.
“What the fuck?” I mumbled, sitting up to scrub at my crusty eyes.
I’d had nightmares that the boys all broke up with me because I was too good at body disposal.
Apparently my subconscious thought I was some kind of mobster?
Very weird. Regardless, it’d made for a shitty sleep, and I was left with the residual feeling of ickiness in my chest as I blinked away the fog.
That was when I noticed the basket on my bedside table. The basket full of muffins.
“What…the fuck?” I said again, swinging my legs out and picking up the basket. The little card attached to the handle just held a stamp of the Devil’s Backbone crest, and I wrinkled my nose. Were the muffins drugged? Probably. They did smell good, though…
Yawning, I picked up the whole basket and headed out to the kitchen to find some answers.
“Good morning, pretty Squirrel,” Royce greeted me with a bright grin. “Come here.” He opened his arms for a hug, and I placed the muffin basket down to oblige. I ducked his kiss, though, burying my face in his neck instead.
“Old pizza breath,” I mumbled. “I can still taste the garlic. Gimme a second to brush my teeth, then I wanna know where the muffins came from.”
He chuckled and smacked my ass as I scurried away. I made quick work of my teeth and splashed some water on my face to wake up a little more, then returned to the kitchen.
“Okay. Explain,” I ordered, gesturing to the baked goods. “Is this a trap? If so, it’s a bad one.”
“Huh?” Royce asked, looking up from his phone with cheeks stuffed full of muffin. In front of him was a wrapper covered in crumbs, but the rest of the cake must have been in his belly already. “Oh. Um. That…hadn’t actually crossed my mind. I think they’re okay?”
I stared at him in shock, waiting for something awful to happen, while Nate scuffed into the kitchen and wrapped his arms around my waist. He pressed a kiss to the back of my neck and murmured a husky, “Good morning, Duckling,” while my eyes remained locked on Royce.
“What are we—?” Nate started to ask, then exhaled heavily.
“Did Royce eat one of the drug muffins?”
“Them mot rugged,” Royce argued, his words distorted from how full his cheeks were. Like a squirrel hoarding nuts for winter. He glared at us, chewing and swallowing as hard as he could without choking. “They’re not drugged,” he tried again, clearer this time. “But they are delicious.”
“Give it a few minutes,” Nate murmured, sleepily kissing my neck again. “See if he drops dead.”
Royce rolled his eyes and extended his middle finger sarcastically. “Nice. You’d just let me die?”
“Probably,” Nate replied, his hand stroking my belly beneath the loose T-shirt I wore. “One less moron to share Ash with.”
Fucking hell, why did that send my heart beating like crazy? He was so… comfortable with the idea now. Like a light switch had been flicked that night in the woods. Or was it earlier than that? The night he’d rescued me from Mallard perhaps?
Royce grabbed another muffin. “Oh well. Damage is already done, may as well try another flavor. Oooh, blueberry!”
“Royce!” I protested, trying to reach across the counter to stop him eating another drug muffin, but he just leaned back out of my reach to take a huge bite.
Nate chuckled, releasing me to turn on the coffee machine. He’d taken to making my coffee first every morning, and I sort of loved it. It was a small thing, but for us, it spoke volumes.
“Mmmm, delicious,” Royce said with his cheeks full again. Shithead was being too reckless for my frayed nerves right now.
Nate took pity on me as he pulled out our mugs and syrups. “The basket came from Heath’s grandfather. Or his assistant, anyway. Along with an apology.” He gestured to Royce, who pulled up a voice message on his phone and pressed play.
“Please extend our deepest sympathies to Miss Layne, and ensure she receives the muffin basket that Kathy ordered. There is no excuse for what has happened to her under the guise of our Society, but please rest assured that we will be doing everything possible to ensure Dr. Reynard is dealt with before she can bring any further shame on the Society. I’m aware that a muffin basket can’t repair the damage done, but they are delicious. ”
The voice speaking was an older gentleman, and I arched a brow in question at Royce. “Heath’s grandfather?”
He nodded. “Yup. Heath had to go to his Musical Engineering class before you woke up so he sent that to me to play for you. See? Muffins are totally safe. In fact, I’d say they’re—” He cut off abruptly, his eyes widening and his face turning pink as he grabbed his throat.
“Nate!” I screamed, throwing myself across the counter and diving into Royce’s lap to knock him clear off the barstool he’d been sitting in.
I was fully prepared to start performing CPR or something when the fucking dickhead started laughing uncontrollably, rolling on the floor with glee that he’d scared me.
Tears pricked at my eyes, and I sniffled them back as I punched him in the shoulder. “Not fucking funny, Royce!”
“Kinda funny,” Nate replied from the kitchen, and I swung my glare his way. “Uh, I mean… not funny, Royce! ”
Royce’s giggles were fucking contagious, and I had to bite my cheek to stop from letting him know I was also amused. Asshole. He deserved to think I was mad at him, even if I did let him pull me down to the floor and hug me like an enormous octopus. He did give great hugs.