Page 65 of Kingston
My heart slams into my throat, and I charge up the stairs, Kingston and Archer right behind me. Oh, no. Fuck. Because I can’t believe what I’m seeing.
Elliot is on the floor right inside the door, unmoving. Joel stands over her, frowning as Taggart kneels by her side, still blindfolded, but his hands move over her throat, fingers probing. It dawns on me in an agonizing jolt what he’s doing. He’s checking for a pulse. “I-I think she’s okay.”
I get to him and whip his blindfold off, then pat his back to get him to move. I’m on my knees beside her as Kingston and Archer help him off the floor and hardly notice as they hand him off to Joel, along with Stuart and Alec who have finally realized there’s something wrong. I don’t know where the fuck they came from, but I have to focus on Elliot. Once I feel her pulse for myself, strong and steady against my fingertips, I lean in to establish she’s definitely breathing before I allow my hands to roam over her, looking for any broken bones. All I can find is a bump on her head where I think she hit the bottom step of the staircase and some redness on her one cheeks.
“What the fuck happened?” Archer asks of no one in particular as he squats down beside me, brushing the hair back from her face. “Peaches, wake up, baby.” He pats her cheek a few times. Then more desperately whispers, “Elliot.”
I shudder out a relieved sigh when she moves a bit in response to her name. She almost made it out. Almost. My heart clenches in my chest, wondering what she went through in there. Fuck. I fucking hate this game. Biting my lip, I connect my gaze to Kingston’s, who has been crouched down, watching us, hands propped on his knees. I jab a finger in the direction of the vehicles.
Kingston’s jaw is clenched as he stands stiffly, then barks at the brothers outside. “Who saw what happened?”
Joel mumbles, “I was with Taggart in the kitchen. He ran headlong into a table and chairs when the air horn sounded as he was trying to get to the door.”
Taggart grimaces, pressing a hand to his abdomen. “True.”
“Alec and I heard the commotion and went into the kitchen, but then all hell broke loose.” Stuart strokes his scruff. “I couldn’t tell you what happened.”
“She wasn’t there when I found the door. I would have tripped over her, the same way Taggart did.” Bridger shrugs. “I don’t know what to tell you.”
I scoop her into my arms. This goddamn house. I want her out of here. Now.
“Get her to the SUV.” Kingston runs a hand over his jaw. “It’ll be faster for us to drive than to call for an ambulance. They’d never find us all the way up here.”
Standing up with her in my arms, she seems so small. Vulnerable. Not the firecracker I’m used to seeing. Not at all like the girl who stripped and danced for us without a care. Or the one who dumped fifty pairs of underwear on our poker table.
We sent her into that house, and now she’s hurt. Guilt cascades over me as I scramble down the porch on a mission to get to the SUV.
Kingston growls from behind me at the others, “Go back to the house and stay there. We’ve got her.”
Archer darts in front of me to open the door. “How do you want to do this?”
I quickly transfer her into his arms before I climb into the back. Kingston grits, “Here, lemme help.” Between the two of them, they get her situated across my lap, so she’s mostly sitting up with her head resting on my chest. I hold her feet out of the way as Archer slams the door shut. The guys move quickly from there to get into the car while I strap the seat belt around both of us.
Kingston has the car in gear in no time flat and takes off at the highest speed he dares down the hilly gravel road. With every bounce into a pothole Elliot moans a bit. I cringe and feel awful for her because she’s obviously in pain… and maybe this is horrible of me, but I much prefer the occasional distressed noises to the silence from before.
I steady my breathing and hold her close, one hand smoothing gently over her scalp. She whimpers, as if it hurts and burrows her face against my chest.
“Cannon?”
I nod, pressing my lips into her hair.
“Did I make it out of the house?”
From the front of the car, Kingston’s harsh breaths are audible, and Archer turns around, gritting his teeth. “You did your best, Peaches. You’re okay.”
“S-someone shut me in a c-c-loset.” Her fingers twist in the fabric at the front of my shirt, holding on tightly. Another good sign. I’d rather have her clawing at me than limp and still. “I think someone kn-nocked me down.”
I meet Kingston’s eyes in the rearview. They burn the hottest green. Archer’s gray gaze is no different. He’s incensed. I wish there was a way for us to know for sure what happened in our little house of horror.
I don’t like this at all. It’s feeling way too familiar.
* * *
Hours later, they release Elliot from the ER with confirmation of a mild concussion, and we have orders for her to lay low for a little bit. No screen time, no running around. She needs to rest. And she’s already not happy about it.
“I feel fine.” She frowns as I hold the door open for her, but never allow her feet to hit the ground. I gather her to me, and she wraps her body around mine like a koala.
Archer sidles up to us, running a hand over her back. “What can we do? What do you need right now?”
