Page 9 of Cannon
Cannon… well, once he gets ahold of this guy, I guarantee he’s going to make it hurt so good—and there’s no fucking way Kingston or I will stop him.
From two seats down on the couch, an audible breath rushes from Dane before his gaze connects with Bridger’s, and he mutters sharply, “You absolutelydidtouch her. I was watching from the window. She was on the verge of beating you to the front door, and you ran at her with your six-foot frame and rammed her to the ground. You probably have eighty pounds on her, but you hit her like you were a linebacker going after the football she was running into the end zone.”
Bridger’s jaw twitches as it dawns on him that it’s not simply his word against hers. There was a witness.
My eyes connect with Dane’s. I was hoping he’d say something. And now that he has, it’s obvious Dane is very firmly on Team Elliot. Lines are being drawn. This could get ugly.
From beside me, Kingston focuses on Dane as he grits out, “And why do you think Elliot didn’t say anything when it happened, Dane?”
His eyes flick from Kingston to Cannon to me before he replies, “She did. To me. I gave her the choice whether to bring it to your attention or keep it quiet, and she said she’d rather not stir things up because it was the first game and there were no rules specifying they couldn’t act like assholes, and… well, I suspect she wanted to be treated as an equal, and not looked upon as a stereotypical weak female.”
“And sheshouldbe treated as an equal. She’s definitely not weak.” I have my suspenders in a death grip, my jaw working back and forth. “Far from it.”
Kingston grunts, “In any case. We know what you did. You’ll have a disadvantage in the next game since you couldn’t play fair in the first.” He stares Bridger down until I swear he’s going to come out of his skin. “As far as the second game goes… we don’t know what happened inside that house, and since no one is talking, we have to assume from your behavior during the first game that you were involved in it.”
“All. Of. You,” I pointedly finish for Kingston as I scan the faces of the four who had been with her.
“Taggart?” Joel asks, his sharp gaze darting to mine.
Kingston jerks his head back, giving Joel a look. “Fuck no, not Taggart. We aren’t stupid. You see, we have to look at this process as a whole sometimes. Things aren’t adding up. At least one of you is probably lying about knowing what happened in that house. And one of you actually was responsible for that BS.”
Cannon nudges me. I know he’s still pissed about those notes, but I don’t know if Kingston wants to tip our hand on that yet. I give a barely perceptible shake of my head that I can tell he picks up on from the subsequent nod of his own. If they’ll spill without us saying what we’re referring to, well, why the fuck not?
I put my hand on Kingston’s arm, and he turns his head, raising his brows and scanning my eyes. In response, I slide my gaze to the assholes on the couch, and then back. As if he read my mind, Kingston directs his slow-burning fury at them again and pushes for more information. “Anyone have anything else to say? Because we know these two games are the tip of the iceberg. Things will go worse for you if you don’t come clean.”
It’s fun to watch the reaction of the brothers here. Zeke and Dane both look decidedly surprised and a tiny bit anxious, but I’m certain that has more to do with the fact that this is feeling very much like what we went through in the days prior to Will Whitlock’s disappearance. It’s nerve-racking. I get it.
Meanwhile, the juniors give each other a hard time with angry scowls and head shakes. These dudes are like a lit match near a tinderbox. They’re about to explode.
Bridger sweats it the worst, which doesn’t surprise me in the slightest. It’s like I said—looking at the knowledge we have of what’s gone down, he hasguiltystamped right on his fucking forehead. You don’t want us to believe the worst of you, don’t treat our initiate with disrespect.
Kingston gives Bridger a wicked grin. “You get to take over Elliot’s kitchen duties. And you three—his head swivels on his neck until he’s looked Alec, Joel, and Stuart in the eye—you get to take on the cleaning of all the bedrooms, bathrooms, and common areas.”
“For fucking real? How long?” Alec groans.
A soft, menacing laugh falls from his lips. “Until we tell you, dumbass. Right now, she needs to rest to get better. That means she can’t very well be cleaning your shit pot.”
Stuart growls, “I don’t get why we’re being punished.”
“Oh, man. You are a dumb motherfucker, aren’t you?" I huff out an exasperated breath. “The three of you and your initiate were in that house with Elliot and Taggart. Tag was right there with her, shouting for help the second he found her. But the four of you? Standing around like fuckin’ idiots like it’s normal for someone to be on the floor, unconscious. What? Did you think we’d believe the dead woman who haunts the house knocked Elliot out? We aren’t fucking stupid.”
Cannon chooses that moment to whip his phone from his pocket and shoot us a text. I pull out my phone and glance at his words.
Cannon
I say we take them back to that fucking house.
Right the fuck now. Make them stay there overnight.
My eyes flick up to his and then to Kingston’s, and the gleam in both of their eyes almost makes me laugh aloud, but I hold back for propriety’s sake. What a genius fucking idea.
Why didn’t I think of that?
Cannon’s lips twitch into a smirk, and he shrugs.
Kingston
Let’s fucking do it. Assholes will at least suffer for a night.
