Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 45251 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 226(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45251 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 226(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Almost.
I smacked his cheek lightly instead, before abandoning him for a good cup of coffee and a cinnamon roll.
I had to hold back a groan when I sat down on one of the logs.
Goddamn, I was sore all over.
Though, I suspected I had nothing on the hurt the brats were in. They were all in various states of discomfort, with cuts, scrapes, blotchy marks, and dirty clothes.
“You’re just gonna sit there and eat?” Abel asked incredulously. “How’s this an interrogation?”
“Damn—this is good,” I said, chewing slowly. More often than not, baked goods went stale within half a day, but these were still soft and full of flavor. Right amount of butter with the cinnamon and plenty of icing. Excellent.
“I know, right?” Ryan nodded and refilled his tin mug. “My brother-in-law’s recipe. But he makes the bite-sized versions. They’re great too.”
Colt hummed and dug out a bottle of…all right, sprinkles. He wanted sprinkles on his cinnamon roll. That was a choice too.
“Nothin’ like a nice treat after a…well, it was a simple workout,” he said. “We’ll call it a restin’ day, I guess.”
“Definitely a resting day—after all the mouthing off Justin did today,” Jameson said. “I came prepared for the fight of a lifetime, and then he folds like a cheap suit after two minutes.”
“Liar!” Angel cried out. “He almost knocked you into the creek!”
“Almost,” I laughed. “That’s cute.”
Jameson smirked. “He almost hurt me too.”
Justin let out a long sigh and tried to shift against the rope.
They looked amazing, all of them. Rope digging in, blood, dirt, messy hair…and the firelight casting a glow over them. And everything behind them was suddenly pitch black.
“So a key has gone missing,” Madigan said casually. He turned toward the brats. “We happen to know one of you took it.”
I took another bite of my roll and glanced over at our prey.
“I think we can rule out Angel,” Colt said. “Madigan and I overheard her whisperin’ to Abel at one point. Girl was tryna be clever and pretend she had the key.”
That was interesting information.
Angel jutted her chin. “Yup, that’s what I said. Totally not to throw you off, either.”
I smirked. She was trying to cover it up, but I wasn’t buying her act. The last thing she said—she played that card too early.
“So we rule out Angel,” I stated.
“Agreed,” Madigan said.
“Can I have some water?” Abel asked.
Madigan lifted his brows. “Uh, how thirsty are you?”
“Thirsty enough to ask,” the boy shot back.
Madigan nodded once and retrieved a bottle of water from a bag. And to absolutely no one’s surprise, he walked over to Abel and emptied it over his head. Maybe Abel wasn’t surprised either. He didn’t express shock or fury. He stood there and glared at his Owner.
“There’s your water, boy.”
“Thanks,” Abel gritted out.
I shifted my gaze to Tracy, finding him and Justin in a quiet staredown.
Justin was one of my suspects. Kit and Tracy were the other two.
Abel was…a vibrant part of our community. He spoke loudly and expressed himself adorably with wild gestures, zero filters, and his heart on his sleeve. In short, I wasn’t sure he could keep a secret. More than that, I knew his poker face was fucking awful.
Kit was new to me. From my observations, he was as sweet as he was cocky. He was extremely polite to the other Tops, and then he went balls to the wall with Colt. The boy had actually backhanded Colt. And that spoke volumes. He had the guts to get himself into trouble he might not be able to handle—and yet he did. He landed on his feet eventually.
Justin wasn’t a Little. He was a straight-up bottom, a cocky sweetheart, a masochist, with switchy tendencies. He didn’t play games unless all he had to do was stay silent. He didn’t give shit up. So he could definitely have the key.
Angel often felt the need to assert herself in her Little space, as if wanting to make sure nobody forgot she was also a sadistic Domme—even if it was only to one person. Like Abel, she had a horrible poker face.
Then there was Tracy.
We locked eyes, and he didn’t shy away. He was guarded and bracing himself.
I finished the last of my cinnamon roll, took another swig of my coffee, then rose to my feet—without making a face. Sweet Jesus, was my boy going to give me a proper rubdown tomorrow. Daddy needed aftercare too.
Rather than stopping in front of Tracy, I continued toward Abel.
He stood up straighter and clenched his jaw.
“Hello, brat. Why are you so sweaty?”
He scowled up at me. “I took a nice shower.”
“You have a very generous Owner,” I replied with a nod. He wisely kept his mouth shut. “Where’s the key?”
He widened his eyes. “I don’t know!” Instant hothead.
I glanced over at the other Tops, and I made eye contact with Ryan. “I think we can crack him fast.”