Fallen Crest Home

by Tijan

  kitchen, and Logan clapped his hands. “Okay, my genius brother. Where do we start?”

  Nate flicked on a light over the stove. “They have electricity.”

  “So if they have a computer, we can turn it on.”

  “Let’s hope they don’t use a password,” Logan added.

  I clapped him on the shoulder. “Maybe we’ll get lucky again and they’ll have their password written down somewhere.”

  “Fuck. They probably will. But for serious, though.” He looked at me. “What are we looking for?”

  “Anything that looks illegal?” I wasn’t sure what we were looking for, or if it would even be at this place. I just wanted something in hand to exchange for the favor I needed to ask my dad. I’d need his help dealing with Caldron, and I didn’t want to owe him. “Just look through their files.”

  “Got it.” Logan nodded. “We’re thinking of what we would do if we were doing something illegal, like keep incriminating files as a backup in case something happens? Something like that?”

  “Would you keep that in your house or office?”

  “Where the authorities would go first?” Logan shook his head. “No way, and thinking of that, we need to start using Dad’s old place again. There are lots of good hiding spots for our future illegal endeavors.”

  Nate had been rifling through one of the cupboards, but he stopped to grin at us. “Are we future white-collar criminals?”

  “Everyone needs to have aspirations.”

  Ignoring the joking, I moved down a side hallway and opened a door. “I found the office.”

  “Just remember, Mase,” Logan called from the kitchen. “Bigstick is a perfectly acceptable password. Just because you use it, doesn’t mean others won’t.”

  “Fuck you,” I called back, but was smiling as I turned on the computer and sat down. When the password screen came up, I rolled my eyes, and typed it in. “Apparently, Steven Quinn doesn’t have a big stick. It’s not the password.”

  “Rocket man?” Logan suggested.

  Nate added, “Pornstar?”

  I typed in Bigstud. And nothing. “Screw it,” I muttered, shuffling through some of the papers on the desk. Inside the drawer, I found one word scribbled down. K45it()rd. It was set apart from all the other notes, and typing that in, I got through.

  Logan and Nate were still throwing out ideas. Big Johnson. Big Willy. Womb broom. Yogurt slinger. Taco whisperer. I let them go, and stopped listening.

  Mr. Quinn kept a lot of business files on this computer. I looked through everything that seemed related to Fallen Crest, something about business holdings in Roussou, and a whole ton of files about the country club. I was still reading and skimming through them when Logan said my name.

  “What?” I looked up.

  “You’ve been in here for an hour.”

  “I have?”

  “Yeah. Thanks for letting us know you got in.” He came around to stand behind me.

  “Sorry. I didn’t think you were actually trying to help with the password ideas.”

  “Yeah, maybe not.” He tapped my shoulder. “So which one worked? It was yogurt slinger, wasn’t it?”

  “Nope.” I clicked on another file titled Payables. “It was taco whisperer.”

  “I knew it! What a dirty mind Quinn has.” Logan chuckled. “I bet Quinn junior is just as dirty. Gotta be, if he’s going into politics.”

  “Hey!” Nate came into the room, frowning. “You got in and didn’t tell us?”

  “It was on a need-to-know basis, Nate, and you didn’t need to know.”

  I tuned them out. Logan was going to needle at Nate, which he’d been doing since he got back, and Nate was going to ignore him at first, then shoot insults back or get pissed. That had been their dynamic since we were kids.

  “You find anything yet?” Logan asked.

  “What?” I looked up, distracted. I’d been staring at a screen of names and numbers, but none of it was making sense. “No.” I pulled out a flash drive and began saving everything. “I’ll just save as much as I can. We can look through it later. Can you guys check any back rooms or the basement for paper files?”

  The two shared a look and shrugged.

  Maybe coming here had been reaching, but I knew a bit more about Quinn’s business than I had before.

  An hour later, we were heading back when Logan read his text messages. “Uh, guys?”

  “What?” Nate leaned forward, now the one sitting in the back.

  Logan looked up at me, cringing slightly. “We need to head to Roussou.”

  “Why?”

  I’d told Sam to take Taylor out, and knowing Sam, that meant she’d find Heather. I already had an idea of what he was going to say when I heard him.

  “They’re at Channing’s house, and Taylor just texted. Caldron’s there.”

  I pressed the accelerator. If we got picked up by a cop, I didn’t care. I needed one to follow me to Channing’s and keep me from killing Caldron, because that was how I felt at the moment.

  I gripped the steering wheel, my knuckles whitening, and we didn’t talk until I braked outside Channing’s place.

  I was running for the house not even a second later, with Logan right behind me.

  Everything started out fine. It was fun, even.

  Taylor and I finished a bottle of wine by the time Heather joined us, and all she did was pack a bunch more in a box, and then we were in the car. The party was at Channing’s, as his little sister was gone for the weekend. It was actually in the building behind their house, which was a safe distance away from any nosy neighbors. We were in the kitchen making margaritas when the first of Channing’s friends came in.

  Big, muscular—a few I recognized from Channing’s fight.

  They all nodded to us, and seemed to know who I was. I didn’t remember their names, but I could tell they were good people. Heather greeted each of them by name, hugging all of them. There was respect in the way they talked to her, respect in how they nodded, acknowledging me. None of them stood and leered at Taylor, who stuck to the background. I couldn’t blame her for that. These guys looked rough. Some arrived on motorcycles. Some wore leather cuts and bandanas. Others looked more like us, in jeans and T-shirts, the way Mason and Logan dressed, but when you mixed all of them together, even I was a little intimidated.

  The margaritas turned into shots, and that turned into a game by the bonfire in Channing’s backyard. I think maybe it was the sound—the laughter, shrieks, the sounds of more and more motorcycles joining the party, or maybe even the music. Hip hop blared, and suddenly, the party Heather had told me we’d be fine at went from a medium-sized gathering of people she trusted to a large party, and I knew she didn’t trust all of the new arrivals.

  On more than a few occasions, I saw her freeze up, her eyes glued to someone walking into the backyard. That was when I started checking the time, checking my phone for messages. There were none. That meant Mason was still looking, but I noticed Taylor on her phone.

  “Are you texting Logan?” I asked.

  She nodded, not looking up. “I’m starting to get the creeps.”

  I was, too, and I was torn. I didn’t want to interrupt Mason, but this was becoming a dangerous place for us to be.

  I touched Heather’s arm. “How about we go inside?”

  She looked around. “Yeah. We can go to the basement.”

  We found Channing down there, playing pool with his friends. Some of the knots loosened in my stomach, as it reminded me of when Logan and Mason would play pool with their friends. For a moment, I forgot about the people outside. No one was tense in here. It was all jokes, stories being shared, and a good-natured game of pool.

  Heather went behind the bar, and we bellied up. A few other girls came over, along with two guys named Moose and Chad. Heather introduced them as two of Channing’s best friends. Moose was huge, with a bald head and gentle brown eyes. Tattoos covered the sides of his skull and the back of his neck, like their oth
er friend from the fight night. Chad wasn’t as muscular as Moose, but he was taller and a little leaner. He had a full head of red curls, green eyes, and the beginnings of a small beard. They positioned themselves between us and the rest of the room, and I knew they’d been sent by Channing to be our protection. I didn’t remember Chad from the fight event, but I did remember Moose. He’d made a point of coming over and shaking Mason’s hand that night.

  A little while later we were laughing at something Moose said about Chad. It was funny and lighthearted, nothing important, but it was the moment before all hell broke loose.

  We were laughing.

  About some joke.

  And none of us were scared, but then things changed.

  I heard the voice behind me.

  “This is where the real party is at.”

  Chills went down my spine.

  Jared Caldron had walked into the room with an entire group following him. I stopped counting once I got to ten guys behind him, and I nudged Taylor back around the corner so he couldn’t see us.

  Heather grabbed my arm and yanked me down under the bar. I hauled Taylor with me, and we huddled at Heather’s feet. She stood, rolling her shoulders back. She tried to appear casual, but her knee was shaking.

  Moose and Chad took position at the bar’s opening. If anyone wanted to get to us, they’d have to go through them.

  Above me, I heard Channing say, “It’s a private party, Caldron. You need to go.”

  “Go? Are you serious?” Caldron laughed. So did his guys. “We walked right in. Been out there for twenty minutes. Thanks for the free booze, by the way.”

  I closed my eyes, but not just from fear. I needed to sense as much going on in the room as possible.

  “Leave, Caldron.”

  “And what would you do if I said no?”

  “I’d say we’re going to make you.”

  Heather’s knees began hitting the cupboard underneath the bar. I looked up, but she seemed completely unaware.

  “You?” Caldron snorted in disbelief. “Half your crew is wasted outside. My guys are blocking the doors. They got no clue what’s going on in here.”

  “Because there’s no way one person in here can’t call or text. Yep. You’re right. We’re screwed,” Heather bit out.

  Her knee was banging hard into the shelf now. I reached up and stopped it. She glanced down and shifted her stance. Taylor looked at me. I shrugged.

  “Shut it, Jax, or I’ll be spending a lot of down time at your old man’s place. I’m sure you’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

  She flipped him off.

  He laughed. “You got fight; I’ll give you that. She’s got fight, Monroe. I’d bet she’s real good in bed, huh?”

  “You’re going to shut it right about now.” Channing’s voice was a low warning.

  “You’ve already made that threat, and nothing. No follow up. I’m still here.”

  Caldron’s voice was as equally low, a challenge in itself. I could imagine him spreading his arms out, as if to say, Here I am, come get me. But as I listened, there were no sounds of scuffling or physical contact.

  I waited, my heart in my throat.

  I noticed Taylor on her phone, punching the letters and numbers furiously. She was biting her lip. She took a breath, and her lip started trembling until she bit down again, stopping it.

  She was going to be bleeding soon.

  “Caldron.” Channing’s voice sounded closer, like he’d shifted toward the bar. “I said stop.”

  “I know you did.” Caldron was closer, too.

  He was coming toward us. Heather tapped my legs. Her hand slipped under the bar, and she motioned for me to move aside. I did, as much as I could. As soon as there was enough space, she moved in, now trying to be a human shield so he couldn’t look down and see us hunched there.

  It was useless. Caldron was coming. I could hear his movements. People were beginning to push each other. A few girls said, “Watch it!” and “Hey! I’m standing here.”

  They were looking for us.

  I felt it in my gut. Someone came, saw us, and texted him we were there. And now we were trapped like animals in this basement. The only way out was through Caldron and his goons. I positioned myself with hands flat on the floor on either side of my legs—almost in a runner’s starting position, except I would jump up and not forward.

  Taylor’s phone flashed. She held it up, and I read Logan’s text.

  Here. Now.

  The fighting was about to start, and if Mason and Logan ran in, someone could blame them. That couldn’t happen, because this had a really good chance of being broken up by the authorities. If anyone was going to take the blame, I’d make sure it was Caldron.

  My heart still in my throat, I took a quick breath and pushed upright.

  “Sam!” Heather hissed, her eyes wide.

  My eyes met Caldron’s, and I knew I was right. He wasn’t surprised to see me. A smirk tugged at his lip. He looked way too smug.

  “Who was it?” I asked.

  “Who was who?”

  “Who told you we were here.”

  “We?” He made a point of looking around. “Who’s ‘we’?”

  Taylor was about to stand up. I touched the top of her head and pushed her back down. He didn’t know Logan was here, though he would shortly, but he really didn’t need to know about Logan’s girlfriend. She’d just be one more target for him.

  I smiled at him, cold. “Don’t read into that. I like to refer to myself and my awesomeness as two separate people. You know, because I’m that awesome.”

  He shook his head. “You’re pretty cocky, considering I finally got you.”

  Channing stepped forward, along with the rest of his guys. Moose and Chad left the bar’s opening and joined their group of friends, who began to form a wall.

  Heather hissed next to me, under her breath, “What are you doing?”

  “Making sure he starts the fight, and not us.”

  She cleared her throat. “Let me do this then.”

  I looked sideways at her as she launched herself up over the bar, using her height advantage to jump to the front of the line. She came to stand next to Channing, her hand on his arm. He glanced down at it, then at her. She passed along some kind of message with that touch, but I couldn’t decipher it from where we stood.

  “Caldron.” She smiled at him, folding her arms over her chest. “I don’t even know why you’re here. You’re wasted space. You were back in high school. You still are today. All you do is walk around with your buddies, acting like a tough guy, but you never back it up. You’ve been in two fights against Mason Kade, and he laid you out both times.” She gestured to Channing. “You’ve been puffing your chest out since we graduated and making all sorts of threats toward my boyfriend. But I think I know what’s going on.”

  He frowned at her.

  She leaned forward, dropping her voice to a whisper, though everyone could hear. “It’s okay if you’re a pussy. Or if you’re the pussy, if you know what I me—“

  His face turned red and in an instant he was throwing the first punch. Heather didn’t finish her sentence before Channing yanked her behind him. He ducked under Caldron’s arm, then rounded up with an uppercut.

  After that, it was on.

  I heard screaming, yelling, and people crying out in pain, but for a moment before any of that, there’d been total silence. After Caldron lashed out, everyone needed time to comprehend that the brawl was on, and in that second, I heard my own gasp for breath. It sounded deafening to my ears, and I knew—I would remember that gasp for the rest of my life.

  Chad yanked Taylor and me backward, pulling us out of the bar