announced. "What did I miss?" His eyes shot to the TV, then to the controller in Steele's hand, and he arched a brow.
"Oh, fuck off," Steele grumbled. "I think I've earned it."
Kody didn't argue but placed the pizza boxes down on the low coffee table in front of us and detoured back into the kitchen to grab drinks for everyone.
When he returned, after handing beers to each of his friends and offering me the options of beer or Coke—I took the Coke—he took a seat on the floor in front of the couch and opened the pizza boxes.
"So, are we playing or..." He shifted his position enough that he could look up at me with an arched brow. "I get the feeling I walked in on a particularly tense conversation."
"You did," Steele muttered, cracking his beer open and taking a sip. "We were discussing why someone would want to kill Madison Kate."
"And getting nowhere on it," Archer added in a sullen growl. He was still sitting so damn close to me; it was like I could feel his presence radiating off his skin. "That bastard who tried to jump Madison Kate at the diner was a hired goon. Cheap one, too."
Kody took a slice of pizza, eating a bite while he seemed to be thinking. "Okay, well, what about the stalker, then? Any ideas on who that is?"
I reached out for the cheese pizza, and he handed me a slice. I gave him a smile of thanks. "Uh, I guess the suspect list is a whole lot longer on that one. It could be anyone that I've crossed paths with, right?"
"It could be Bree," Archer commented, and my gaze snapped to him with fury.
"It's not fucking Bree, you twat."
He cocked a brow at me, those ice-blue eyes curious. "Why not? She has the access—she knows the gate code—and she knows more about you than anyone else. It wouldn't be the first time a girl developed an infatuation with her attractive friend."
I carefully avoided the fact that he'd just called me attractive and addressed his blatantly incorrect theory. "Bree couldn't be my stalker, you idiot. She was eleven when my mom died... I hardly see her developing a sexual infatuation with her friend's mother at that age, let alone being devious enough to do all the shit this stalker is doing. No. Just, no."
Archer just gave a shrug that seemed to shift him closer to me. Or maybe that was my imagination. "Okay, what if it's her dad and he's somehow convinced her to do his dirty work? I'm just saying, she gives me some pretty intense vibes the way she looks at you."
I glowered. "Don't let jealousy cloud your judgment, Archer. It's not fucking Bree; let it go."
Bree was my best friend. One of my only friends, really, seeing as I couldn't exactly count the guys as my "friends" unless we added "with benefits." The idea that she could be putting up a front with me for some devious motive? Nope. I couldn't even entertain that possibility, and I wouldn't. She wasn't involved, and if Archer tried to suggest it again, he would find out just how hard I could junk punch.
"Okay, how about Dallas?" Steele offered up, and I scowled in his direction. "Hey, I didn't mean anything by that," he defended himself, raising one hand—not disturbing his damaged arm—in surrender. "I just think we need to consider all the obvious options. Dallas would have been, what, sixteen when your mom died? Teenage boys are messed up, and Dallas came from a rough upbringing. He's clearly attracted to you, too, and possessive. He fits the profile."
I was simmering with anger, but I had to appreciate what they were doing. They were trying to help, and they didn't know Bree and Dallas the way I did. Of course my friends looked like suspects to them.
“Your stalker clearly has a sexual interest in you, and you have had sex with Moore, haven’t you?” Archer pointed out in a pissy sort of tone.
"It's not Dallas," I replied, trying to control the anger in my voice. I couldn't defend him any further than that because Steele's points were all valid. I was just running on gut feelings about my friend and one-time lover. Dallas wasn't evil. He wasn't the guy who killed a bird or blew up a car and injured innocent bystanders. "Next?"
Kody rested his head back on the couch beside my thigh, his pink hair brushing my skin. "Okay, how about