But only a moment later, we hit the top of the stairs and the faint sound of a phone buzzing against wood meets our ears.
“Fuck. It’s here,” Kingston grits out. “So, shewashere.”
My heart sinks the closer we get to the irritating vibration. Stopping in the hallway outside our four bedrooms, I notice Cannon is visibly pale, his body stiff as his eyes fixate on Elliot’s door.
Clapping my hand on his shoulder, I clear my throat as I try to think. “She left without it, and while that totally sucks in terms of finding her”—my eyes flick to Cannon and then to Kingston—“it also means she didn’t fucking walk out that door on purpose. She didn’t walk away from us.”
Kingston crosses his arms over his chest, one brow arching as he studies me. I know the look of stark terror on my face at Elliot being missing is in direct opposition to the positivity of my words. He finally grunts, “That’s a hell of a way of looking at it.”
I shrug, wetting my lips. “We can’t afford to get sidetracked wondering if she went on purpose. Because she fuckin’ didn’t. She needs our help. Ifeelit.”
A rough, strangled noise slips past Cannon’s lips, and his face flushes a moment later. He shifts, looking away from us.
I duck my face close until he’s forced to look at me. “Hey. It’s okay to be worried or whatever else you’re feeling. But we need to channel that feeling into our efforts to find her.”
Kingston nods, gripping Cannon’s bicep. “We’ll hunt through her room, see if we can find anything of use.”
I let them go without me, choosing instead to enter my room and fire up my computer. I go first for the video feed in the upstairs hallway. I have it situated at the end of the hall so it picks up on anyone entering any of our rooms—and sure enough, around twenty minutes to eleven, that dickface Alec saunters up to her door… and slaps it a few times instead of knocking—just like Cannon does. Listening to the exchange, I can tell he knew what he was doing, tricking her into opening her door to him. And man, that little fucker was trying to rattle her, calling us her boy toys. Worse, from this feed, I can barely see Elliot inside her door, but what I can see is her arms crossed over her chest. Her body language radiates her discomfort as Alec eyes her up and down. That fuckin’ dickhead… hates her but is glaringly obvious about ogling her.
They finish their conversation and he leaves her; then a few seconds later, Elliot emerges from her room with her key and locks the door. I scratch my head. Kingston must have grabbed her spare key to get in earlier. Thank fuck he hadn’t given her both. I’d told him it might come in handy, and I’m glad he listened.
My ears perk up as I hear Cannon and Kingston across the hall turning her room upside down and inside out, looking for anything that could help.
“This is fuckin’ stupid,” Kingston growls. “We aren’t going to find her under the bed or hiding in the closet. She’s not here, and I’m not seeing anything to do with Nick. They aren’t together. He isn’t her boyfriend, no matter how he introduced himself today.” I don’t know what silent communication Cannon shares with him, but it’s not another thirty seconds before they join me. “Anything yet?”
I let out a frustrated breath. “I watched Alec come up and rather slyly use Cannon’s signature knock to get her to open the door.”
“That doesn’t exactly sit well with me.”
Cannon exhales sharply through his nostrils and threads his fingers together over his head, resting them there. He shakes his head.
“Not your fault he’s an asshole.” I clear my throat. “I’m taking a look at the video feed from the front door next.”
Kingston gestures that I should get on with it, and with a couple of clicks, I’ve got it pulled up, then back it up until we see Nick’s arrival. We watch with bated breath, studying this fucker as he climbs the stairs to our front porch, then stands there as if he owns the place. Alec wasn’t wrong. He does look a bit like a Ken doll with his khaki shorts, polo shirt, and boat shoes. Entitled, arrogant prick. He asks to see his girlfriend, Elliot, just like Alec said, then stands there looking around while he waits, spending plenty of time looking into the house through the window at the side of the door.
And then that rat bastard does a quick sidestep, going off camera for a moment. I suck in a breath as we hear the door open and Elliot steps out, completely unaware that this douchebag is there. He snatches her up, and in a surprising display of strength, hauls her over his shoulder. She lets out a bloodcurdling scream, and it’s loud enough I don’t doubt we’d have heard her, even if I hadn’t installed the super high-tech cameras. The agony in her voice is beyond bone-chilling. She’s terrified.
Kingston hovers over my left shoulder and Cannon’s at my right.
“There’s no way Alec didn’t hear that.” I recognize the anger that coats every single word that leaves Kingston’s mouth because there is equal measure of rage flowing through my veins. Add all that to the way Cannon is heavily breathing like he’s about to erupt, and I’d say Alec is well and truly fucked.
For a moment none of us budges an inch, not a single muscle twitches as we watch this asshole cart her off to his SUV. Definitely dark blue. “Can’t see the plates at all.” I grit my teeth, straining to see something more. There are some audible thuds, as she pounds on his back. Fighting him. But he’s a lot bigger than she is. She doesn’t stand a chance. He sets her down, then slaps her so hard, her entire body goes limp. My heart stops as our girl slumps to the ground. He knocked her the fuck out.
Beside me, Kingston lets out an anguished noise. In my peripheral vision, I watch as he yanks on his hair. On the other side of me, a raw sound scrapes up from Cannon’s throat as he stares at the screen with his hands clasped together as he bites at them.
It’s not long before the mad energy radiating off all of us approaches detonation. Kingston huffs out an angry, low “Motherfucker,” moving from my side to pace the floor at almost the same time Cannon growls and slams his hands down on my desk, making everything jump. I swivel in my seat to see him stagger a few steps, then bend at the waist, hands on his knees, his chest heaving.
Kingston is similarly distraught and has dropped to his knees at the edge of my bed, resting his elbows on it with his hands covering his face as he mumbles to himself.
My stomach churns and my hands shake.Fuck.I know why this happened. A harsh breath shudders from me, but I’m able to keep my mental agony and my thoughts contained, except the one phrase that’s rolling through my head over and over again. “This is all my fault.”
THREE
CANNON
I’m quickly losingthe battle to keep my emotions in check. Standing in Archer’s room, hands braced on my knees, I try to force myself to just fuckin’ breathe properly, but I can’t—because without Elliot, my entire world collapses. I don’t fucking care that she’s only been in my life less than a month. She’s it for me. For all of us. The one I’ve been waiting for all my life, and I’m sure Archer and Kingston feel the same. From a personal perspective, she’s the only girl who’s ever watched what happens to me and has stayed by my side. Somehow my heart knew it before I knewher.
And I don’t know what the fuck Archer is talking about. This is allmyfucking fault. The grim reality that Elliot could be harmed by this motherfucker threatens to take me down.I’mthe one who flew into a barbaric rage the night she looked at all my epilepsy meds.I’mthe one who had a goddamn seizure again and fucked the rest of our weekend so that we didn’t ever come to a decision about what to do with her asshole ex.Me.This is on me. I bring my hand up to my chest, meeting their eyes before I pound hard on it a few times. I shake my head. The blame lies squarely on my head.
