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Carver scoffs behind us, killing any attempt that King had made of getting my mind off the bullshit. “You’re really trying to make light out of this?” he questions, his comment thrown straight at King’s back, piercing through his skin just as his bullet had pierced through mine … and well, the blade through his mother’s stomach. I guess Carver has a knack for inserting things where they really shouldn’t be. Like his bullshit opinion right now.
King stops and spins just as we break out into the main foyer of our underground world. “You got a fucking problem, man?”
I study Carver’s stare as he looks back at King and I groan, recognizing that look so damn well as it’s one that usually rests on my own damn face. He’s looking for a fight and he doesn’t care how he gets it, even if it means tearing down his friendship just to feel the adrenaline of his fists pummeling against bare skin.
I shake my head and move forward, only just slipping away from Cruz as he reaches out to stop me. “No,” I growl, forcing my stare onto Carver and pushing in front of King who would have been more than happy to go a couple rounds with Carver. “You don’t get to do this. Yeah, you’ve had a shitty morning and your world just imploded on your ass, but you don’t get to preach to me about self-control and then go pick a fight with your friends. If you want to beat the shit out of something, there’s a perfectly fine punching bag in my home gym with your name on it. Got it?”
Carver narrows his gaze, hating when people use his own bullshit against him, but he knows I’m right. Either way, he doesn’t move an inch as King stands at my back, ready to push me out of the way if Carver decides to go against all his basic urges. I step in close to him, raising my chin. “What’s it going to be, Carver? Either walk away now or use me as your punching bag, the same way that you do for me.” I watch as his eyes widen just a fraction, completely horrified by my suggestion, but I don’t pause or give him even the slightest chance to cut me off. “But just know, that if you lay a single fucking finger on any of my guys, I’m coming for your ass, and trust me when I tell you that you won’t like it.”
Carver’s gaze narrows and as he goes to step into me, Grayson’s hushed tone sails through the foyer. “Hold up,” he murmurs, moving in closer to us. “We’re not alone down here.”
Without hesitation, Carver reaches out and grabs my wrist, he yanks me behind him as the guys move in on Carver’s other sides, their protective instincts knowing no bounds. Grayson points toward the opposite hall, our eyes landing on the dull light shining from within the filing room.
I’ve been in there once when Tobias King was giving me my induction tour, taking me around and showing me all the ins and outs of Dynasty, and now that I know where his true loyalties were, it’s hard to figure out if anything honest ever came from his lips.
The guys’ gazes shift around our small group, silently putting a plan into place and within moments, Carver’s hand is in mine, slowly moving through the underground world, his tantrum a thing of the past. Our feet shuffle across the expensive marble and despite there being five of us, not a damn sound is heard until we’re standing right outside the filing door, listening to the soft thud of drawers opening and closing.
I meet Grayson’s stare and my brows furrow, a silent question between us asking if he has any idea what the hell is going on in there, but he shrugs his shoulders, just as clueless as the rest of us. His gaze shifts to Carver’s whose shifts to King’s and then Cruz’s and with a sharp nod, the door is pushed wide and we throw ourselves through the entrance, the five of us standing as an impenetrable force.
Matthew Montgomery sits at a long table, his reading glasses crooked on his face as his head shoots up from the piles of papers that aren’t his to be going through. His eyes bug out of his head and before letting us get a single word out, he drops his gaze back to the papers as though he didn’t just get caught out doing something that he really shouldn’t be doing.
King steps forward, his brows furrowed as he approaches Montgomery with caution, never knowing what could happen when you approach a crazy man. “Uhhhh … the fuck, dude?” King says. “What the hell are you doing?”
He holds his hand up, his pointer finger out, a silent message asking King to shut the fuck up for just a second. “I think I’ve … I think I know where she is.”
