“Why the fuck would she let you into Carnage? What does she get from it?”
“All of you,” he answers, and I run a hand down my face.
“She wanted us dead?” Kash asks.
He nods. “Yes.”
I shake my head. He can’t be lying, but I think that’s just what he was told and made to believe. Otherwise, we’d already be dead.
“How did you know where our trackers were?” I ask. We’ve had ours since after our training, but Saint gave Ashtyn hers when he brought her back recently.
“Em-emerson,” he answers.
Saint steps forward. “How the fuck would he know where Ashtyn’s tracker was?”
“I-I don’t know…”
“I do,” I say and they both look at me. “That day you had Emerson escort her to the office. He had ripped open her robe, and you could see the bruise on her hip,” I say.
Saint runs a hand through his hair. “I should have killed him instead of cutting off his hand. Thankfully, I can remedy that mistake.”
I pull the picture out of my back pocket and show it to Benny. “Who is in this with you?”
He’s staring at the picture, but I don’t think he’s really seeing it. Saint grips his hair and yanks him to sit up. Grasping the back of his neck, he holds Benny in place so he can look at it. “Answer the fucking question,” he shouts, shaking him.
“It’s…it’s my cousin,” he slurs.
“What’s his name?” I demand. I figured they were related somehow.
“Hudson Owens,” he whispers.
Saint shoves him to the ground, and I sigh. “Well, at least we have a name,” I offer.
“Where the hell did you get that?” Saint asks me.
“After I left, I went to Vegas. Benny had someone set his place on fire, wanting everything destroyed. I guess in case we found out where he lived. He didn’t want anyone leading him to Ashtyn. But the picture survived. I’ve been searching for answers.”
“Why didn’t you give this to me when you found it?” he snaps.
“I’m giving it to you now,” I argue. “You almost beat him to death.” I point down at Benny. “Obviously, you wouldn’t have gotten any answers.”
“You don’t know that,” he shouts.
“Guys.” Kash steps forward, placing a hand on each of our chests to push us apart.
I turn to head upstairs and crawl into bed with my wife. The idea of being buried balls deep in her pussy is already helping my sour mood, but Saint ruins it when he speaks next.
“How’d you get Charlotte into your bed?”
I come to a stop and turn to face him. “Excuse me?”
He smirks, and Kashton runs his hand through his hair, growling, “Saint.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” I demand, stepping back toward them.
“I’m just curious.” He crosses his tatted arms over his chest, widening his stance. He’s mad at me and wanting to start a fight.
“You know if it wasn’t for us, she wouldn’t be in your life.”
