“Thought you’d sleep forever when you didn’t rush down here at the smell of bacon,” a familiar voice calls out before I reach the kitchen.
Cannon has been part of my life since Creighton’s business really took off. They were friends before that, but apparently not the kind you introduce your little sister to. I had a mad crush on him when I was younger, but it didn’t take long for him to become another annoying older brother who liked to tell me what to do and spoil my fun. My crush died hard and fast.
“I was out, I guess. Where’s Crey?”
I lower myself into a chair, attempting not to jar my head too much. I scavenged some ibuprofen from the medicine cabinet upstairs, but considering it expired four years ago, I’m not holding my breath that it’s going to work any miracles.
Cannon slides a plate in front of me—scrambled eggs and bacon. Nothing fancy, but then again, he’s no gourmet chef. Actually, I think he employs a chef.
“Thank you.”
He doesn’t answer my question about my brother until he sits down across from me at the wooden table that takes up the center of the small kitchen.
“Crey headed back to Nashville. He didn’t want to be away from Holly any longer than he had to be. Actually, I’m shocked he didn’t let me go after you without him, because he hasn’t been leaving her side for anything lately.”
Guilt settles in my sour stomach, and the appeal of the food in front of me falls several notches. Silence hangs between us for long moments until the sound of a toaster popping interrupts.
“Maybe toast is a better idea for you.”
Cannon stands again, and I let my gaze follow him as he butters the white bread toast and drops two slices of it on my plate.
How long has it been since I had white bread? A million years? My aunt served the kind of bread you could kill someone with if you swung it hard enough at his head. Basically, the consistency of a paperweight—but packed with healthy benefits.
I reach for the toast and crunch into it, finding that I’m not as hungover as the last time I got hammered and did something completely idiotic. I thought I was so smart for getting Cav’s attention again with that ad. Look at how much good that did me.
I refuse to admit my heart is well and truly cracked by the lies he fed me. Maybe not even so much by the lies as the fact that he made me believe in us. Believe we had a future. All that pretending we were real and we could have a life together set me up for a crushing fall when the truth came out.
Looking at Cannon over my toast, I decide to dig for more answers. With the exception of Creighton, Cannon always knows more about any given situation than everyone else combined.
“How did you and Crey find out about Cav?”
Cannon finishes his drink of coffee and lowers the white mug with #1 Grandma in a purple and pink swirly font to the table. “Dom Casso.”
Dropping the crust of my toast on the edge of my plate, I wait for him to elaborate. He doesn’t. “But that doesn’t explain how you’d find out now. Did Dom go to Crey? Or did Crey go looking for information and seek out Dom?”
When Cannon doesn’t answer right away, I know it’s because he’s weighing his answer against how much he really wants me to know. He never shows all his cards, but that’s just Cannon.
“Crey tried to reach you shortly after you landed in Belize, but got no answer on your cell phone.”
“I know. I didn’t have service down there.”
Cannon’s eyebrow rises. “You didn’t have service because Cav didn’t want you to have service. We checked with the carrier. You should’ve automatically switched over to the local network. Since you’ve been sleeping for about eighteen hours, I’ve gone through all the settings on the phone with the provider, and it appears Cav switched the one you needed to hook up to the local network. He wanted you cut off from everyone, Greer.”
My mind grapples with this revelation. First, how the hell did I sleep for eighteen hours? Good God, woman. And second, why would Cav do that?
The blows keep coming as Cannon continues. “The Internet was also disconnected in the house, and the caretakers were under orders from Cav not to relay any messages to you that Creighton was trying to reach you. He wanted you isolated from the rest of the world.”
The piece of bacon I just picked up falls back to my plate. “Why?”
“How better to get into your head than cutting you off from your support system? It’s a common technique to build rapport.”
Common to kidnappers and cults, maybe. Could Cav really be so calculating? It only takes me a moment to answer my own question.
Yes. He is.
I can’t forget I was a job from day one. Everything he’s said and done has been calculating. And dammit, I gave him the exact opening he needed to come back into my life.
The anti-Cav train in my head derails around the next curveball question. Why would he come back now? I’m not a job anymore.