“Agreed,” I say, wondering what kind of craziness Hunter had gotten himself, and us, into. “The sale of the castle must be a trigger point to terms inside an existing contract. It’s the only thing that makes sense but why the hell don’t I know about it?”
“Randall’s exact words,” Emma says, “were: The North family is our enemy. They can take everything from us. They can destroy us. Jax is using you. Seems to me,” she adds, “that he thinks you know why he and my brother want the castle.”
“I don’t think that statement says they think I already know. I think it says they’re terrified I’ll find out. And the only thing that makes me their enemy is Hunter’s murder.”
“You mean the only thing that makes you our enemy?” she asks. “I’m still a Knight, Jax.”
“You are not my enemy, Emma. You will never be my enemy, not unless you allow them to demonize me.”
“Bingo,” Savage says. “Team Knight needs to demonize you, before you marry her and end up running the whole two-company show.” He points at Emma. “Not that you couldn’t run it all. You could. I’m just saying that’s where I’m betting their heads are right now.”
There’s a heavy moment in the air when Emma blushes and cuts her stare, clearly reacting to the reference to me marrying her. She’s embarrassed or awkward, or perhaps both. I, on the other hand, considering my previous claim to eternal bachelorism, am not any of those things. She’s it for me.
“Whiskey’s in my blood, baby, not hotels,” I say, catching her hand, and when she looks at me, there’s a punch of awareness, between us as I add, “Just like you are. We are not about our families.”
“To them, we are,” she says. “And that means they’re going to keep coming at us as long as we’re together.”
“Then we need to get them under control.”
“And if we can’t?”
“We will.”
“Now. We have to do it now,” she says. “Because I have this nagging sensation in my gut is telling me someone else is going to get hurt. Randall threatened you. Actually, as much as I hate saying this, my brother threatened you, because Randall does nothing without my brother’s orders or agreement.”
She doesn’t believe her brother killed Hunter, but she’s fretting over his threats against me. Some part of Emma doubts Chance more than she wants to admit, but I don’t say that. I don’t think she’s ready to hear that right now.
“Unless he did,” Savage says, going a whole different direction with this. “What if Randall killed Hunter to protect Chance? A self-serving act, of course, because protecting Chance protects his own future.”
Emma grabs her mug and holds onto it, her grip a vise, like she just needs to hold onto something or she’ll fall. “I cannot believe we’re talking about Randall killing Hunter.”
“He and Jill were whispering off in a corner tonight, too,” Savage says, snatching up another pastry. “Interesting to think about those two together, isn’t it? They’re both riding the North and Knight coattails. What if they’ve decided they want a piece of the pie for themselves and have a plan to get it?”
“I’m not saying that Randall isn’t money-hungry,” Emma replies. “I’m not even saying he wouldn’t street fight for his future, but I guess I’m more of a romantic than you men are where Jill comes into play. Assuming she loved Hunter, what if Jill left me the note? Maybe she really is afraid for my safety?” Her brows furrow. “Although she is a bitch to me.”
Savage snorts. “Randall left that note.”
Emma scowls. “You want me to believe that he accused my brother, his best friend, his ticket to money and success, of killing Hunter?”
“That’s what guilty people do,” he explains. “They point the finger at themselves because they feel like that makes them look less guilty. It’s all about getting it out there, weathering the storm of attention, and the waiting for everyone to move on, to someone else. As a bonus, he probably thought he’d scare you away from Jax and push you closer to Chance, who you’d suddenly need to protect. Sisterly love and all.”
Emma considers him a moment and then looks at me. “I don’t know, Jax. It doesn’t feel right. Why not just tell me about the DNA test and accuse you directly?”
“Randall has something to gain in all of this that we don’t know about,” I say.
“Or something to lose,” Savage adds. “Like his freedom when we prove he killed Hunter.” He picks up his coffee cup. “My money is on Randall. He killed Hunter. Now, did your brother know about it, Emma? I don’t know. Is Jill in on it, too? I don’t know. But I’m going to take all of this speculation and get my team turning it into facts.”
Emma frowns, sets down her mug, and rounds the island, walking toward the living room with purpose in her steps. “Where are you going and what are you doing?” Savage asks.
She ignores him.
“Emma,” I call after her.
She ignores me.
I set my own mug down, and in a few quick steps, I catch her arm and turn her to face me. “What are you doing?”
“What I should have already done. I need my phone. And I need to call my brother.”
“And say what?” I challenge.
“I told you. Randall doesn’t operate without my brother’s approval. I need to know if my brother threatened us through him tonight. If that’s where we’re at, if we’re so deep in this that my own brother is sending his second-in-command to threaten me, I need to know. I need to know.”
“And if he did, Emma? Then what?”
“Then I’d say Randall’s statement is true. You might not know it, but you have the ability to destroy my family, and he believes you’ll do it. That’s a game-changer.”
“I wouldn’t do that to you. You know that.”
“It’s one thing to say that now,” she says, “it’s quite another to look the person in the eyes who took someone you love. You don’t know how you’ll react the day that happens. And it will. That day is coming, sooner than later.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Emma
Jax and I stand there in the kitchen with Savage at his back, the room shrinking around us, the floor all but falling from beneath our feet. “I need to call Chance, Jax,” I repeat. “I need to hear his voice.”
“Wait,” he urges.
I shake my head in rejection. “No,” I say. “Not this time.”
His hands settle on my waist, possessive and firm, and he walks me backward, into the center bar area, walls encasing us, shielding us from Savage’s view. “I’m trying to protect you,” he says, his voice low, rough, his face close, like his body. “I’m trying to protect us.”
Us.
That word gets me like no other.
I’ve never been an “us,” not the way I am with Jax. I was never connected to York, never a part of him, and him me, the way Jax and I are connected to each other.
“I know you are,” I say, catching his shirt and holding on tightly, the way I feel like I’m holding on to him and Chance, but, somehow, I know it won’t be enough. I’m going to lose one of them, maybe both of them, and the very idea claws at me. “I’m doing the same. Think about it, Jax. This conversation started with you declaring it time to play the game, not get played. To do that, I need to hear my brother’s voice. I need to know what is really going on here. We need to know.”