Page 34 of Unmask (Crew of Elmwood Public #2)

It was one thing to talk strategy with my brothers and quite another to give away what might be my ace. But this was different. This was the Elite. Kaylor’s family.

How much could I trust them? The question gnawed at me as I studied their faces. Any one of them could tip off our suspect, intentionally or otherwise. Information was currency in our world, and once I spent it, there was no getting it back.

My gaze drifted toward the hallway that led to the stairs, toward the room where Kaylor was sleeping. Safe. Protected because Brock had put everything on the line to make it so. When it came to her, he’d already proven he’d sacrifice whatever was necessary.

He wasn’t the only one.

So would I.

“I’ve got a name,” I said, eyes locking with Brock’s. “But it’s not confirmed.”

“Let’s hear it.” Micah set his beer down with a soft clink.

I had nothing to lose and everything to gain. “Rusty.” Not an ounce of shock rippled through the room, and it justified my suspicions. “You already suspected he might be more involved,” I concluded.

Brock’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “We learned long ago that no one is who they portray themselves to be.”

Fynn stepped forward, his movements fluid and predatory. He’d been the quietest of the group, but now his attention was laser focused, which in my experience made him someone I shouldn’t underestimate. “What makes you think he’s involved?”

I shrugged. “Call it a hunch.”

Grayson scoffed. “You expect us to go on a hunch?”

I pushed off the counter, straightening to my full height.

The marble was cold against my palms as I gripped the edge.

“Believe what you want, but I don’t trust him.

Not with Kaylor. Someone betrayed her father, and my money is on the best friend.

If I had to guess, her father discovered Rusty’s side business, and he was using club resources to fund it. ”

“You have any proof?” Brock asked.

“Not yet, but I’m working on it. Why don’t you trust him?” I threw the question back at them, curious if they had anything more substantial than intuition and doubt. The way they’d reacted, or hadn’t reacted, to Rusty’s name told me there was history there.

“Rusty and my uncle might have been friends, but I remember there being tension between them a few times at gatherings. Kaylor doesn’t know this.

I never told her, but at their crew parties, I saw Rusty make a move on her mom.

He might have been drunk, but it was no excuse.

She made it clear she wasn’t interested, and let’s say he got a little forceful until he saw me.

I have no respect for someone who disrespects his friend by hitting on his wife, especially in the way Rusty did.

It rubbed me wrong. To this day, I don’t know if she ever told my uncle what Rusty did. ”

I agreed with Brock, and what he was telling me only backed up my suspicion of Rusty’s character. He wasn’t a nice guy and was just like someone my father would recruit. The pieces were slowly fitting into place. “We need to put a tail on him. Someone skilled enough that Rusty won’t notice.”

His aqua eyes glinted with what might have been anticipation as he exchanged a quick glance with Micah. “We know someone,” he said, his voice carrying the quiet confidence of someone who’d already thought three steps ahead. “Consider it handled.”

Brock’s eyes narrowed to slits, the muscle in his cheek twitched once, twice, before he leaned forward across the counter. “Why didn’t you tell us sooner?”

I ran a hand through my hair, buying myself a moment to choose my words carefully.

“Because the second I point a finger without solid proof, the Vipers start sniffing around for answers. They’ll want to know how I know, who told me, what evidence exists.

And if I’m wrong about Rusty… Kaylor’s the one who pays the price for my mistake. ”

No one argued with that.

“We don’t have to trust each other, but if we want to take him down, we need to work together,” Brock said.

Micah rolled his shoulders, working out tension that had been building since this conversation started. “Can we do that without killing each other?”

“You’re the one with the gun,” I reminded.

Grayson’s expression twisted into a snarl. “As if you don’t have one stashed in the house or a knife in your pocket.”

My lips curved. “Touché.”

Micah’s laughter rumbled up from his chest, deep and genuine. He shook his head as if he couldn’t quite believe the situation we’d found ourselves in. “Who the hell knows?” he said, dimples flashing as his grin transformed his entire face. “Maybe we’ll end up friends when this nightmare is over.”

“Don’t count on it,” Grayson muttered.

Fynn coughed and then cleared his throat.

“Well, regardless, this is going to be a hell of a team-up.” Micah smirked as he pressed the beer bottle to his lips.

The cocky grin reminded me too much of Mason’s. They had the same carefree, nothing-mattered playboy vibe. Having two of them on the same side seemed a reckless combination. “Is he always like this?”

“Yes,” three in-unison confirmations echoed in the kitchen.

Brock’s gaze didn’t leave mine. “I had my doubts about you after the shit at the warehouse. I still do, but you showing up here, putting in the effort to protect from not just a potential killer but your father, means something and hasn’t gone unnoticed by me.

But…if you fuck up, fuck her over again, or hurt her, and I don’t just mean physically, we’ll end you. ”

Four very intimidating guys smiled at me. Not in a friendly manner but in a way that said they would take pleasure in causing me pain. I understood the threat all too well.

I wasn’t sure how to feel about having Brock and the Elite watch me, but I was hardly surprised. “If I screw up again, I’ll offer myself to you on a fucking gold platter.”

Brock nodded, accepting my response.

It was time to add some ground rules of my own.

“That being said, I want Kaylor involved as little as possible, and I don’t want to tell her about Rusty until I have proof.

I don’t want to create any false hope or tip off the traitor by her being unable to control her emotions.

She’s been through enough. And if I’m going to keep her from doing something reckless, I need to know she’s safe. ”

“We all have people we want to protect, but from personal experience, the girls in our lives don’t like to be left out. We’ve learned the hard way about keeping them in the dark. You might want to rethink your strategy, mini boss,” Grayson said, giving me unsolicited advice.

I didn’t like the nickname or the advice.

The air had been cleared, and the Elite and Ravens knew exactly where they stood with each other. Now we’d just had to see how well we could work together. It should be interesting, to say the least.

Leaving the Elite in the kitchen, I headed upstairs, half expecting Brock to stop me or ask me where the hell I thought I was going.

He didn’t. Perhaps he could see that I needed her as much as she needed me, especially tonight.

Those nightmares of hers wouldn’t stay quiet for long.

I knew from experience they always came crawling back when your guard was down, when the world went dark and silence made space for the shit you’d buried. Night didn’t forgive. It reminded.

It wouldn’t have made a difference if he tried to stop me. Lucifer himself couldn’t have kept me from her room.

The door to her bedroom was cracked just enough for a sliver of hallway light to slash across the floorboards.

Quietly, I reached out, fingers brushing the cool handle, and nudged the door open with a slow push.

The hinges didn’t creak. I slipped inside, the air faintly sweet with the scent of her, vanilla and something warmer underneath that made my lungs stutter if I breathed too deeply.

My eyes landed on her instantly. Kaylor was curled in on herself, limbs tangled in the blankets. Her face was half buried in the pillow, one hand clutching the edge, the barest crease between her brows. Even in sleep, she couldn’t let go of whatever hell still haunted her.

It hit me square in the chest, an ache that never fucking let up.

She deserved better. Better than this room that wasn’t hers. Better than watching shadows for movement. Better than having to count on a guy like me.

But she had me anyway.

No matter how many nights passed, how many plans we made to protect her, it wouldn’t erase the fact that she’d never be safe enough until the threat was extinguished.

I crossed the room on silent steps, lowering into the chair beside her bed.

My elbows dropped to my knees, fingers laced, eyes locked on the shape of her.

I could have slipped into the bed beside her.

Could have pulled her close and kept the nightmares at bay with the weight of my body, but I didn’t want to risk waking her.

If she could grab even a few hours of real sleep, I wasn’t going to screw it up.

So I sat.

And I watched.

And I waited.

At some point, maybe an hour in, her body shifted as a soft sound escaped her lips, barely more than breath.

“Kreed…” My name. So faint it almost didn’t feel real, but it was, and it wrecked me.

She said it like I was safety, like I was home.

Fuck.

My throat closed. I couldn’t swallow past the ache, couldn’t breathe past the effect she had on me. My fists curled against my thighs, nails biting into the calluses of my palms.

I didn’t deserve that kind of faith. That kind of softness, but I was going to earn it anyway.

Starting tonight.

Starting with blood if it came to it.

I leaned back in the chair, bones aching from tension that never left. My gaze stayed locked on her, on the gentle rise and fall of her chest, on the shadows playing across her skin, on the loose strands of hair curling over her cheek.

She slept.

I stayed awake.