Chapter 8 #2
Hunt leaned across Brady. “We’d really appreciate it, man.
I’m just … I’m real out of sorts. I mean, what would you do?
Do I suggest an abortion to her? Is that a total douchebag move?
Or do I quit school to support both of them?
” Hunt gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
“Do I marry her?” His voice caught at the suggestion.
Hunt was as likely to ask someone like this guard for advice as I was, which was to say, not even a little bit. But Hunt was rocking his part.
The guard winced at the prospect of dispensing life-altering advice to strangers, or maybe it was that he knew Magnum would rip his ass to shreds if he advised the wrong path that didn’t line up with this week’s scripted narrative.
Regardless of the reason, the guard said, “Give me a sec,” and stepped back into the guardhouse.
Hunt said,
Griffin said.
I said, having already considered the topic.
Layla said.
Brady said.
Hunt said, before clarifying.
Layla and I said together.
Ordinarily, saying the same thing would have made at least one of us squeal out a laughing, “Twinsies!” As it was, neither of us cracked a smile.
Layla added.
Brady muttered as the soldier exited the guardhouse.
Brady tilted his head up toward him as he stood, legs hip-width apart, in front of his window.
“I can’t reach Mr. Chase. He’s probably sleeping. However, you are on his preapproved visitor list.”
Layla chimed in with a delighted half sneer.
“I’ve alerted the guards stationed at the house. Drive on up and they’ll let you in. But if Mr. Chase is asleep, don’t disturb him. He needs his rest.”
“Of course,” Brady said. “We wouldn’t want to disturb his rest.”
Griffin warned.
A hand on the steering wheel, Hunt leaned over Brady again. “Thanks for the assist, man. Uncle Magnum always knows just what to do, no matter how rough the situation. He’s the best.”
Layla said into our silent chat.
Girl just wouldn’t shut up. It was how she was made.
The guard smiled for the first time since our arrival. “It’s been a privilege working with him. The man does such important work.”
The man’s smile froze, as if he was only then realizing we were Magnum’s “important work.”
We hadn’t been able to tell if everyone in Ridgemore was in on Magnum’s murdery plans, or if there were varying tiers informed on a need-to-know basis. Based on the guard’s deer-in-the-headlights look, he knew Magnum liked us slow roasted to a crisp over a spit.
Layla said.
No doubt he was.
I hated that Magnum had made us his bitches too.
The soldier ducked into the guardhouse, and the gate started to open on oiled hinges. As its halves swung slowly inward, the guard called out, “Good luck with the baby.”
Hunt gave a burdened, “Yeah, man, thanks,” to seal his Oscar-worthy performance, and finally Brady guided Bonnie down the long drive.
Layla asked.
Brady said.
Brady’s comment swiftly returned the solemnity to our group.
Layla said, though she’d talked as much as he had.
Brady snorted.
I said as Bonnie wound through stretches of dense forest on either side.
Layla said.
I said on a heavy sigh.
Layla nudged me in the ribs with a pointy elbow and a fleeting grin.
Brady parked in front of the main entrance to the house, a massive double door that was as tall as several humans. No guards rushed out to question us or lead us to their master.
We tried the door, but it was locked. After circling the house, we discovered the sliding glass door from the pool unlocked, however. We slipped inside, still without anyone popping up to escort us.
Elegantly dim recessed lights illuminated just enough of the house to keep us from bumping into furniture.
“Hello? Uncle Magnum?” Layla called out softly.
Brady whirled on her.
Somehow I doubted we were going to get quite that lucky. Easy-peasy hadn’t exactly featured prominently in our vocabulary lately.
Layla said.
Griffin said before purposefully bumping his arm against mine.
I reached out to squeeze his, but then we parted around a massive leather couch that looked comfy enough to sleep on. I wanted one. Our potentially resting gazillionaire, however, was not in it.
Hunt said.
Brady insisted.
My fingers twitched as we tiptoed across the mansion that was definitely too quiet.
Unease crawled along my skin like tiny ants as we passed room after room—a parlor and a den, a secondary kitchen, powder rooms and a library, an exercise room that made me want to pause and admire it, though we didn’t.
Every room was empty. We even checked behind closed doors.
No one; some spaces hadn’t even been decorated yet and were vacant without furniture.
We were about to creep up the main set of stairs when, with a foot on the first step, I stilled. Around me, my friends stopped too.
I perked my ears and listened for several seconds before blinking in surprise.
Layla completed.
Hunt said.
I glanced up at her on the step ahead of me.
She shrugged.
Brady corrected.
But then even Layla silenced to listen.
As we padded up the carpeted steps, the moaning became louder, the grunts of pleasure more pronounced.
I couldn’t resist a quick glance at Griffin, only to find him already looking at me. Mere hours ago, I’d been learning his happy sexed-up sounds.
He winked at me, clasped my hand, and led me into a wide hallway—and stopped midstep, his foot in the air for a moment, piling us up behind Brady and Layla. Hunt peeked his head above mine.
The groaning grew louder as I gaped and blinked and actually rubbed my eyes, cartoon-style, at the sight I simply could not make sense of.
Seconds passed, or damn, it could have been whole minutes.
My mouth hung agape. Griffin’s hand was limp around mine as if he was struggling just as much as I was to comprehend the scene before our very eyes.
Layla let out a long, quiet exhale.
I breathed into our group chat, amazed I could form words.
Brady barked into our minds, expressing what I probably really wanted to say.
I rubbed my eyes again as Griffin guided us to better hide behind one of the massive pillars that supported the open room … filled with … filled with …
Hunt said.
Now that, that was exactly what I was thinking, if I was thinking anything at all.