Logan Kade (Fallen Crest #5.5)

Kade threw me a sideways look.

I should’ve clamped a hand over my mouth. I should’ve let them know I wasn’t involved, because really, I wasn’t. I didn’t know this girl. It wasn’t my place to say anything or join in, but I didn’t. A dark part of me had opened up, seeing that this girl might need help. I wanted something to happen. I was almost egging it on in my head and as Kade watched me, his eyes lingering, the dark part grew into something else. My body grew warm and my pulse started to pick up. It was like he knew what was going on in me, and I swallowed over a lump, because that wasn’t right. He couldn’t know. He didn’t even know me...

But I felt like he did. I felt like he knew exactly what was going on in me, and a flash of anger flared up in me. I turned away. He could see inside of me, and that was too much. I didn’t want that so I slipped back into the crowd. As I pulled further away, enough so I wasn’t on the front line, my insides were still charged up.

“Come on. Who invited them?” someone near me asked.

“Who are these guys?”

“Park’s lackeys,” another voice answered. “And they weren’t invited.”

More and more partygoers were talking. They were annoyed, and an excited buzz filled the atmosphere. People wanted a fight. They wanted to see some action.

The three douchebags scanned the crowd. Two stepped back. They seemed wary, but the third focused his attention on Kade. He moved closer, stepping so he was right in Kade’s face. His lip curled in derision, and his mouth moved, saying something I couldn’t hear.

Oh boy. I swallowed.

I recognized the look in Kade’s eyes. His anger wasn’t fading; it was increasing. And then it didn’t matter.

Kade’s hand flew and punched the guy right in the face. Douchebag One’s head flung backward, and he stumbled a few steps before recovering. His two friends shared a look, seeming unsure what to do, but Douchebag One made the decision for them. He wiped the back of his hand over his mouth, locked eyes on Kade, and charged.

The fight was on.

“No, no, no!” Jason shoved his way through the crowd. “Cops have been called,” he yelled. “Everyone scatter—”

Before he finished talking, sirens began to wail. They were faint, still in the distance, but he was right. They were coming.

Douchebag One reared back. He was going to hit Kade.

“Stop!” I yelled.

Kade heard me and turned to look. I pointed behind him. Before he turned around, he ducked, and Douchebag One’s arm went over his head. Kade caught it, twisted around, and rammed his elbow into the guy’s gut. He hit him with an uppercut, then bent over and tossed him over his back. The two other guys ran to their friend and pulled him away as they took off with the scattering crowd.

I watched, frowning. We weren’t in high school. We didn’t really need to worry, did we? But Jason grabbed my hand and yanked me after him.

“Come on,” he said. “There’s illegal shit here. We don’t want to get caught. Trust me.”

I was still revved up. I didn’t know what from: from Kade or from the fight, but Jason took off and I followed right behind. As we zipped past a car, Kade was right there. He was heading to a different vehicle and for a moment, our paths crossed.

Kade looked at me. His eyebrows furrowed together, like he wanted to say something, but Jason yanked on my hand and we were past him.

“Logan!” Samantha called from farther down the road.

She waved from an Escalade. Jason veered toward them, pulling me along. I wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he continued right past the vehicle. I glanced back and watched as Kade sprinted for it. He leaped, took hold of the top of the Escalade, and somehow threw himself into the front seat as Samantha clambered into the back.

Once inside, Kade reached out and pounded on the top of the vehicle. “Let’s go,” he barked.

The driver took off, and they were past us in two seconds, just as Claire pulled up.

Jason hurried into the passenger seat, and I threw myself into the back. Claire gunned the engine, and we turned off the block and onto another street as the cop cars began pulling up in front of the house.

“That was close.”

I wasn’t sure who said that, but it didn’t matter. We were all thinking it.

Then I grinned. I wanted to do it again.





SOC 101: MINDF*CKING A GROUP





TAYLOR


The house was dark when Claire dropped me off.

Empty wine bottles sat on the kitchen table, along with half-empty glasses and a platter with cheese and crackers on it. A few grapes remained in a bowl, along with some crumpled-up napkins and three beer bottles where I assumed my dad’s co-worker had been sitting. A couple of the glasses had lipstick stains near the rim.