Fallen Crest Home (Fallen Crest High #6)(51)

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 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.”