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)
That mattered. It was a harmless prank.
I turned to Colt and Greer. “Which one of you terrifies the brats more if you’re angry?”
The two eyed each other.
“Lemme cut to the chase,” Reese said. “On any given day, brats tiptoe around Greer more because he’s Master material and known to get serious when the situation calls for it. Therefore, the answer is Colt, because I don’t think anyone out here has ever seen him angry.”
Fair enough. It made sense.
“Colt, you’re with me,” Reese went on. “Greer, Nate, and Ash, y’all get a proper look at each brat and read their expressions. I wanna know who they seek out, if they get worried, defiant, whatever—every twitch in their bratty little faces.”
I grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. “We’re on it.”
“Quit smilin’, bro,” he told me. “Look more like your husband.”
Nate was already furrowing his brow. “I happen to know Lucas only buys nice wine, and Colt just wasted it on a fucking wall.”
I had to kill my laugh real quick, because the brats would’ve heard me, but that was fucking hilarious.
Colt smirked and threw an arm around Nate’s shoulders. “How about Luke and I have you and Ash over for wine sometime soon? Will that make up for it? You can tie up Kit too if you want.”
“Or we can get this damn show on the road,” Reese pressed impatiently. “KC’s probably waiting for us inside because he was smart enough to walk straight through.”
Okay, game face. Mean face. We’d put some brats in their places. No problem.
Nate patted Colt on the chest. “We’ll talk. I’ll bring rope.”
With that out of the way, we followed the sounds from the patio, where a setup party was in full swing. Which, in my humble opinion, was sometimes more fun than the event itself. When we threw some steaks on the grill, listened to better music, and spent the night shooting the shit and hanging up decorations.
The moment Reese and I rounded the corner, I did a quick count. Maybe some twenty people were present. Everyone was in a good mood. Noa, Kit, Corey—that was three brats. Shay, Tate, Jack, Franklin. A few I didn’t know well. Penelope and Nora had joined the crowd. Lucian and Cam. Ty and Lane—I remembered them from the TPE event.
Just then, KC walked out onto the patio with his cane.
Gael was here too, in the pool, with Santiago. Which meant Dean was probably nearby.
“Everybody shut the fuck up!” Reese climbed up on the patio, and heads whipped around. “Kill the music!”
Colt went next, and I followed, zeroing in on the brats in the crowd.
Colt pointed at the wall. “We wanna know right fuckin’ now who spray-painted the whole goddamn house.”
Noa, Kit, and Corey looked confused and taken aback. Definitely taken aback by Colt’s anger.
I narrowed my eyes. Shay—did he look uncertain there for a hot second? If I didn’t know any better, he’d quickly glanced toward Nora.
“What spray paint?” Noa huffed. “Don’t start your mind games with us, Reese’s Sexy Pieces.”
“Yeah,” Kit agreed. “We’re still recovering from when we whooped your butts the other week.”
“Whoa! I see it!” Corey pointed to the wall. “It says ‘soon’ right there!”
They couldn’t possibly be that good at acting.
What about the other hellions, then? Tate, Lane, Shay… Where the fuck was Macklin? He’d been the mastermind last time.
Lucian frowned and turned to Cam.
“I don’t know anything, Master,” the boy promised.
I glanced back at Shay, who was leaving the loungers around the pool and aiming for one of the picnic tables. He’d composed himself by now and appeared mostly confused. Hmm.
“What’s with Tate’s smirk?” Greer asked under his breath.
Good question. I hadn’t seen that until now. But if he were guilty, would he flaunt with a smirk?
“At least one of you knows somethin’, so start fuckin’ talkin’,” Reese growled.
Ty whispered something to Lane, who lifted his brows and shook his head quickly.
“This is some bullcrap.” Nora spoke up. “You’re out for revenge because the brats beat you last time. So you’re trying to mess with our heads. You probably spray-painted the walls.”
“Yeah!” Noa and Corey hollered in agreement.
Diverting the attention to us, Nora? Nice try.
She and Shay were my prime suspects.
Right then and there, I heard more dings like last time, and six or seven members pulled out their phones and looked more confused than ever.
“Coming soon…?” Lane uttered.
Lucian, Lane, Shay, Santiago, Tate, Jack, and—damn. It happened again, and this time, my phone buzzed too.
I got the same text, and so did several others. Were they going out to the whole fucking community?
“Okay, what is happening?” Tate demanded. “I was getting excited for a new show, but don’t drag me into your mayhem on my day off.”
I didn’t buy his act either. He made it on to my list of suspects right there.
“Sleep with one eye open, you little shits,” Reese warned. “Tomorrow, all brats will be interrogated.”