Eye Candy

I snapped, “Bullshit.”

“I didn’t.” His hand hadn’t moved from the top of his hair. He was pulling at it. “I mean it. I told the guys to show you to the basement as soon as you got here. I didn’t even know about that room. The door—” He stopped.

When they flicked the lights on, a large hole stood before us, but when we looked down, I felt new chills. The door looked exactly like the rest of the kitchen’s walls. It was a secret door, secret room. The whole thing was camouflaged, and if I’d been in the kitchen during daylight, I would’ve walked right past it like Logan was saying he had.

I had no idea how we’d found it, but we had.

I believed him, of course I did, but I was scared and I was mad, and I wanted someone to blame. Logan was throwing the party, so he got the brunt of it.

I wasn’t alone in the glaring. Mason was doing his share, and Heather hadn’t stopped. She was almost camouflaged under the white blanket someone found for her. Some of her pink mane was sticking out.

“That guy did it, then. He told us to go down there.”

“What guy?”

“The one with the chainsaw.”

Heather added, “Chainsaw asshole. That guy.”

Logan didn’t say anything. He stared at me, then Heather, then Mason.

My stomach dropped again. I was getting tired of this sick feeling.

But. I had to ask.

“What?”

He exchanged another look with Mason before his eyes found mine.

He said, “There is no chainsaw guy.”





Chapter 11


“Logan!” Heather came out of her seat. It was like she had lifted off. She literally came out of the seat at him. Her eyes were irate. “Don’t you dare joke like that! There was a chainsaw guy. Another guy talked to him. We aren’t crazy.”

He started to shake his head, dead serious, then stopped, and a smirk showed. “I’m kidding. Of course there was a chainsaw guy, but he told you the wrong door. We really didn’t know about that room. The real basement door was just past it.” He leaned back against the doorframe and crossed his arms over his chest. “I have no idea how you guys even found that door.”

“The doorknob.”

He swung his gaze my way. “I know, but no one else saw that knob. I swear, Sam. I don’t think it was there before.” He held his hands up, palms toward me. “No one, and I mean not one person, saw a doorknob there before tonight. Swear to God.”

That didn’t make anything better. A wave of helplessness crushed down on me. I rested my forehead against Mason’s chest. He finished bandaging my hands, but once he was done, he smoothed a hand down my back. “You in pain?”

He said that so softly. It almost broke me.

I swallowed the pain, I swallowed the defeat, and looked up. “I’m fine, but I’m kinda not in the partying mood now.”

He nodded. His hand was still on my back as he twisted around to Logan. “I’m going to take them back to the house.”

Heather let her head fall back. “Thank goodness. I’m so down for that.”

Logan nodded, his hand scratching the back of his neck. He was giving me an odd look.

“What?”

His eyes skimmed over my costume, then Heather’s. “Uh. Do I ask what you guys are?”

I snorted. “Not the time for that.”

“Okay.” He nodded, then his hand dropped from his neck. “Oh. Hey. Where’s Taylor?”

My body’s temperature dropped two degrees. My blood was ice-cold again. “What do you mean?” I felt a lump form in my throat, and keep growing. I knew. I so knew what he was going to say, and I had known it from the beginning.

Something happened to Taylor.

He spoke, and a buzz started in my ears. His words sounded like they were coming from a distance. “She said she was with you guys today. She didn’t come to the party tonight?”

I saw Heather gasp. I didn’t hear it.

Her mouth dropped open. Her eyes shot to mine, and the small amount of color she’d gotten back drained once again from her face.

Something had happened to Taylor.

The alarms were blaring in my head, but I coughed, forced that fucking lump away, and managed, “Uh. I’ll give her a call once we get home.”

We couldn’t panic.

Not yet.

I had to get back to the house. I’d heard that ringtone. I’d rip the fucking house apart if need be. And if she wasn’t there, if she hadn’t just fallen asleep, or decided to use Nate’s room for some reason—or maybe she’d gotten locked in the closet, who the hell knew?—I wanted to get there and look first, and then I’d start raising holy hell all over again.

Mason felt my body tense, and shifted back to get a better view of my face. What he saw made a wall slam down over his features. He glanced from me to his brother, and his jaw clenched. His hand pressed harder on my back, but he controlled his voice. It came out like he was annoyed, but not too worried. “What’s the fastest way out of here?”

Logan paused in the doorway. His eyebrows pulled together.

Mason’s smile was strained. “So we don’t have to go through the whole haunted house part of it.”

“Oh.” Logan’s eyebrows smoothed back out. He gestured to the bedroom that our bathroom was attached to. “I’ll show you guys the back way.”

The short trek took forever. Every second that I had to pretend to be calm stripped a year from my life. I was almost shaking with the effort by the time Logan opened that last door and I saw the night air. I shot past him, but I couldn’t race for the street. I didn’t know where Mason had parked.

It was another few seconds that seemed like lifetimes before Logan waved us off and shut the door behind him again.

Mason didn’t waste time. “What happened?”

I gritted my teeth. “Where’s your Escalade?”

He pointed toward the back of the house. “I got a spot in the alley behind the house.”

That was enough. I tore out of there. I was the one who’d gotten hurt, so everyone else needed to keep up with me. I wasn’t slowing down.

Mason ran ahead of me, and had the vehicle unlocked and the engine started by the time I hopped in. Heather was a few beats behind, and once he took off and our seat belts were on, I said, “She didn’t answer her phone. All. Day. She didn’t answer.” I began searching the console. “Where’s my phone?” He didn’t show me fast enough, and my voice rose. “Where’s my PHONE?”

“Here. Here.” He pulled my and Heather’s phones out of his pocket.

I checked again. There were my calls for Taylor. I hit dial again. I had to try once more.

Nothing. It went straight to voicemail.

Panic rose up, like vomit.

I pushed it down, but my stomach wouldn’t stop clenching.

I choked out, “I called her when we left, and I heard the phone ring in the house.” Please be okay. “It stopped, and I called her again. It went through on my end, but I didn’t hear it again.”

What if . . . Terror spliced through me. Did I really want to follow through on that thought?

What if . . .

The phone had been ringing. The phone was there. She was there. She had been there. It had been ringing—then stopped. It didn’t ring again.