“Fuck solid proof,” I seethe.“I don’t need a whiteboard to know two plus two makes four.”
“For now, we still don’t even know what numbers we’re working with,” Jagger reminds me.
“You’re saying you really don’t know Morgan’s behind this?”I shove myself to my feet.“Why else would Lexie invite Violet and June to work with her?”
Hawke meets me halfway.“You don’t know if she was behind this.”
“How many nights does Lexie work a week, Hawke?”I toss back at him.“Why tonight?You can’t think it’s a coincidence?—”
“You.Don’t.Know,” he grits out.
The floor creaks as Uncle Judge stands behind his desk.His closed fists press against the top, and his glare burns a hole in my periphery.“Boys.”There’s a warning in his tone.One that’s sharp and brooks no argument.If I had to guess, it’s the side Daddy Dearest was hoping would make an appearance when he blackmailed Uncle Judge to come back to Harden Heights and put us in our places.Funny.It’s the first time I’ve really seen it.“Now is not the fucking time to turn on each other.Do you hear me?”
Hawke pulls away first, giving us some breathing room as he moves toward the massive window and looks outside.It’s dark.But even if it wasn’t, there wouldn’t be a soul in sight.Uncle Judge is staying in one of the family homes.Daddy Dearest inherited three from their father before he kicked the bucket a solid decade ago.It was for the best.He was kind of a dick.Like father, like son.Uncle Judge was written out of his family’s will after forming his band instead of becoming a real estate mogul like his father.The reminder is almost enough to distract me from the shit-show we’re drowning in.
“Now, I do not know whether or not Lexie is involved in what happened tonight,” Judge continues.“But I will tell you that her uncle is not someone you fuck with.”
“We know,” I groan.“You’ve told us this a hundred times since you came back to town?—”
“And I’ll say it ‘til I’m blue in the face if it’ll get you to listen,” Judge returns.
“Why should we?”I ask.“Okay, you’re not Daddy Dearest’s henchman anymore.So what?”
“Ford,” Jagger warns.
I barely glance his way, choosing to stare at our uncle instead.“Tell us what happened between you and Gus, or I walk.”
“Me, too,” Hawke decides.
Look at us, putting aside our differences and getting along.It’s a modern-day miracle.My mouth twitches at the thought, but I keep the sentiment to myself, refusing to shift the limelight from Uncle Judge.Besides, this conversation is long past due.I know it, and so does everyone else in this room.
Uncle Judge’s attention shifts to Jagger.“You haven’t told them?”
What the hell?We don’t keep anything from each other.Or at least, I thought we didn’t.Apparently, this conversation is only long past due for some of us.My molars nearly crack as I glare at Jagger.“Floor’s all yours, big brother.”
Jagger shakes his head.“I figured it wasn’t my place.”
“Of course, it wasn’t,” I all but sneer.“Anything else you want to own up to?Ya know, since apparently we don’t share shit with each other?—”
“I’m not keeping anything else from you,” Jagger starts.
“Just Uncle Judge’s biggest secret.”
Jagger’s upper lip curls.“It wasn’t my place.”
I scoff.“Because that’s stopped you before.”
“Both of you, stop it,” Uncle Judge orders.“My buddy, Rudy, and I borrowed money from Gus, all right?We did it to start IndieCent Vows.Then, one night, at The Pelican, we thought we were safe.We thought we were in Harden territory.And there was a bar fight.”
“We know this part of the story, too.”I scrub my hand over my face, more annoyed than I probably should be, but it is what it is.“You ran your mouth, got into a bar fight, and Rudy accidentally hit his head?—”
“Just like how your house accidentally caught on fire,” he returns.
I drop my hand from my face and give him a sharp look.
“So, what are you saying?”Roman asks.“It was murder?”
Hawke frowns.“From what we were told, he hit his head.”
