Fallen Crest Home (Fallen Crest High #6)

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 Tshirts, 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 other 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’?”