I let out a low whistle. “Just a flesh wound. It’ll heal.” I pull the pant leg back down and use the fabric to apply pressure and stem the flow of blood.
“Stop! Ow!” Zeke’s gone from cursing like a sailor to whining like a toddler in about two seconds flat. I push harder on the wound, and he shrieks.
“Hey, Zeke, guess what? You should suffer for what you’ve done. This is just the beginning.”
Cannon catches my eye and then Kingston’s, then quickly motions with his head to Elliot. He wants her untied.
“Go ahead, we’ve got him,” Kingston grunts as Zeke howls in agony, thrashing about.
In no time flat, Cannon kneels on the floor in front of Elliot. Before he does anything else, he cups her face in his hands. “Tell me you’re okay,” he heaves out.
“I am.” Her eyes crash shut. I can see her shaking from here. She’s so fucking far from okay.
“Peaches. It’s okay if you’re not. Dane? How you doing, man?”
Elliot murmurs, “I know,” but as Cannon begins to work the knots holding her to the chair, she protests. “No. Dane first.” Her words are ragged. “He’s been down here since yesterday. Help him.”
“I’m fine, Elliot.” Poor Dane hasn’t been facing the room the entire time. I can’t imagine what that was like, to know they were in danger, but not be able to do a damn thing about it, not be able to see what was happening behind him.
“The hell you are.” Elliot’s eyes connect with mine and Kingston’s. “Dane needs his head looked at. They hit him. He was unconscious when Zeke dragged me down here.”
“Cannon, she’s okay. She’ll be better once we can get a look at Dane.” Kingston gives a swift jerk of his head. “Get him untied.”
From above our heads, the thunder of feet coming down the stairs from the main floor gets all our attention. “They’re in the cellar. I heard two gunshots.”
Kingston gives a half-hearted chuckle. “I guess fucking Stuart took the job I gave him seriously. For once.”
The next few minutes are pure chaos as police officers enter the fray, followed by EMTs with stretchers.
And then we hear the bellow of Jared Hawthorne demanding to know where his son is and what the actual fuck is happening.
I smirk at Kingston as his eyes roll. “Think he’ll be pissed you called the cops before he got here?”
“Don’t fucking care,” my man grunts, his green eyes flashing as he pulls me into his side. He presses his lips to my temple before his gaze swings over to the stretcher where they have Elliot to check her over. “I wasn’t about to leave it to chance that we’d find her in time. Not happening on my watch.”
I can’t help but stare at Nick’s sheet-covered body on the stretcher. “It could have easily ended in a horribly different way.” I shudder hard, pressing my body closer to Kingston’s side as he tightens his hold on me.
Cannon gives a sharp jerk of his head, his lip curling in distaste at the thought. Kingston pulls him close, too, while we wait for the EMTs to finish up. The three of us stand strong, a united front, as always.
My eyes flick to Elliot to find her smiling at us. A moment later, the EMT gives a nod, and she pushes off the stretcher. She crosses the space between us and, without a word, she steps into our embrace. For a moment, we’re all quiet, simply glad to be together, no real physical harm having come to us. Elliot takes one deep breath, then another, like she’s gearing up to say something. Finally, she lifts her head, looking at each of us in turn. “I love you. All of you. I should have told you before this.”
My heart squeezes hard, and I stare at her a full three seconds before I find words. “Peaches, I love you, too, from your big brain to your cute toes—and everything in between.”
“It sure as fuck is nice to hear because I love you, too. So fucking much.” Kingston presses a kiss to her forehead. I can’t resist either, not caring that there are other people still milling around the cellar. I dip down to touch my lips to her cheek. And, as usual, Cannon one-ups us, grasping the back of her neck and turning her just so, then feasting on her delectable lips. When he pulls away, he looks deeply into her eyes before roughly gritting out, “Love you.”
Our bond of three has become four, our lives forever changed because of Elliot.
* * *
It’shours and hours before the police leave. I’ll admit, the investigative team had arrived quickly, taking evidence and noting everything necessary about what went down here today. It’d been kinda cute to see Elliot geek out over watching how they took forensic evidence and listening to exactly how things were done.
There’d been so many questions, but that’s par for the course when there’s such a tangled mess to decipher. I’d actually been surprised when they said we could stay in the house, but Jared was likely responsible for the expedited investigation. The police have taped off the cellar, as well as Elliot/Zeke’s room, and we’re not supposed to go in those areas. We’ve also been warned not to venture into the woods, though I don’t know what they think they’ll find out there after a year, especially after they were already out there again today and found nothing.
The doorbell rings, pulling me from my thoughts, and I hurry to answer, knowing who is on the other side of the door.
Pizza. Because we’re fucking famished.
Before I can even make it to the kitchen, I hear a whoop, and then, “Oh hell yes. Tell me that’s pizza.” I snort with laughter at Dane’s excitement. Thankfully, his lump on the head is no more worrisome than Elliot’s had been. And even with a bit of a headache, he’s surprisingly at ease. I truly think that it has everything to do with knowing what happened to Will so that he can finally be at peace.
