Crew Princess (Crew Series Book 2) Read online

Yeah. Another thing that had happened. His dad moved fast.

  Cross had mentioned his dad having a new girlfriend. He’d mentioned she worked in Fallen Crest. I knew his dad had moved elsewhere, but Cross hadn’t told me where. I was surprised Cross knew as much as he did.

  The way all the cheating came out had been weird.

  Usually, or maybe I was assuming wrong, but when someone cheated, there was a period where one spouse was upset. The other asked for forgiveness. The other didn’t give it to them. The cheating spouse doubled-down, begging more, pleading more. And then there was a time when they tried to work it out? Counseling maybe?

  But not with this divorce.

  It came out that she cheated. Boom.

  It came out that he had cheated, again.

  The again part had been new because apparently he’d cheated a loooong time ago, before they even had Taz and Cross.

  But then, I wasn’t sure how the years of the marriage had been after his first affair (because it’d been a full-blown affair and not a single discretion, and yes, that mattered) until boom. He cheated again. And then apparently their mom had enough because she did her own thing.

  Now they were divorcing. Final drop-the-mic moment here.

  But back to Cross’ dad. Cross said he’d been in the local motel at first, but this was the only thing that made sense.

  “Damn,” Jordan breathed.

  We were all playing catch-up here. All that I did know I’d gotten from the first night when Cross came over and said he was moving in with me. And Cross not sharing with me didn’t bode well. He should’ve told me this.

  Cross’ face tightened. “She works at Kade Enterprises, in HR.” He cursed, low and savage. “He moved in with her last week. My mom—” He flung his hand toward the house. “—has some guy coming over and sleeping here.”

  “What’s Taz say?”

  His jaw clenched. “She doesn’t know.”

  “The fuck?” Jordan muttered.

  “Yeah.” Cross’ shoulders seemed to become even more tense than before. His voice dipped low. “I found a pile of his clothes in her room. She was hiding them, in a fucking laundry bag.”

  “Maybe they’re your dad’s?”

  “His clothes are folded under hers in the drawers.”

  Well, there you go. That’s a whole new level of hiding.

  Jordan winced.

  A loud cheer came from inside the house, and the volume suddenly got even louder as the front door shoved open.

  “What the fuck?” Zellman saw us and came jogging down the sidewalk.

  The door slammed shut behind him again, but then cracked back open.

  Tabatha was there, her head poking out. “Are you all doing a crew thingy?”

  Cross turned away, cursing.

  Z and Jordan shared a grin, and Jordan hollered back, “Give us a bit, hon.”

  Hon.

  As in honey.

  Jordan noticed my grin and narrowed his eyes. “What?”

  “You guys are nickname official now.” I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from giving him too much crap. “Are you giving her a promise ring next weekend?”

  Cross let out a brief laugh.

  Z began snickering.

  Jordan clapped Zellman on the chest with the back of his hand. “Keep chortling, asshole. You sound like a parakeet.”

  Z only snickered louder.

  Jordan shook his head, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “You all are dipshits. And yeah.” He shot me a look. “We’re doing nicknames now. Is that normal? I just slipped one night while I was in her. Baby. God, I hate nicknames. I’ve always hated them. My dad calls my mom sweetheart, and she calls him cupcake. I never wanted to do nicknames, but shit—we’re here.” He groaned. “How do we get out of here?”

  Z frowned, as if really pondering his dilemma. “Break up with her?”

  “What?!” Jordan rounded on him, hitting him again. “What the fuck kind of suggestion is that?”

  Zellman seemed undisturbed, just shrugging. “An honest one? I don’t think you can go no-nicknames once you’re there.”

  Cross snorted. “Especially when your dick is inside of her.” He was speaking to Jordan, but his eyes were on me.

  I knew where he was going with that one.

  We’d been at “I love you” for a long while. The moment had come earlier than maybe it should’ve, but what do you do when your best friend/lover takes a gun to commit murder and you’re trying to stop him? The L word had come out, and it wasn’t one that could go back inside. And while we weren’t public nicknamers, we were private ones. Like when he’d called me baby last night, and I’d gasped his name, driving my hips back against his. My nickname for him might’ve been along the lines of “Jesus, finish me, for God’s sake.”

  “I hate you guys,” Jordan announced.

  Zellman was beaming. He clapped him on the shoulder. “I’m kinda proud of you. Look at us.” He scanned the group. “I got a fuck-mate. Jordan’s wifed up, and you and Cross, you’re just you guys.” He nodded to himself, growing serious. “We’re all growing up. Holy shit.” His face cleared, like a lightbulb switching on. “We graduate in a month. What the fuck are we all going to do?”

  Annnnnd…now the pin could be heard dropping.

  We all fell silent.

  This.

  Right here.

  This conversation.

  This was the elephant in the room.

  Or maybe it was my elephant in the room.

  Graduation meant change. Growth. We were done. We were moving. We were staying. We were—I didn’t know what we were doing, and that was the problem.

  Most crews disbanded after school, with only one still lasting, but even that one—and I’m talking about my brother’s crew—had branched off somewhat with their normal leader, Channing aka my brother, no longer official, but still there. It was a gray area.

  But back to us and the conversation we weren’t having.

  On cue, Jordan coughed. “So. We’re going to the bonfire tonight?”

  Z broke out in a wide smile. “Yeah?”

  Cross nodded to Jordan, moving next to me. He brushed his arm against mine. “Yeah. I want to scope out this lady my dad’s with, see what she’s like.”

  “Got it. We can do that. A drive-by or are you thinking something else?” Jordan’s gaze moved from Cross to me and back again.

  Cross glanced at me too.

  The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. “What are you really thinking?”

  “Kade Enterprises is hosting an event tonight at their country club. I know about it because Race asked me if I was going. Both his parents are going. He was wondering if I could stop in since they’re forcing him to go before the bonfire thing.”

  “Wait.” Zellman held his hand up. “I thought they were getting a divorce too?”

  “They are, but they’re both still going.”

  “Race’s mom moved there, and his dad is rich,” Jordan added. “He’s going to want to mingle with the Fallen Crusties for business.”

  “Shit. That’s a good idea.”

  Then both Jordan and Cross looked at me again.

  A stone thudded to the bottom of my stomach. I was fairly certain what he was going to ask, but I rasped out, “You gotta say the words. I can’t do anything if you don’t ask me.”

  Cross didn’t hesitate. “I want to break into her house, scope it out as much as possible.”

  “Score,” Zellman breathed, already nodding.

  This was what we did, our crew.

  One of us needed something, and we were there.

  Only problem was me.

  I was still on probation.

  But I nodded. “When do we go?”

  I loved Cross.

  Best friends since seventh grade, crew members—we’d been inseparable, but we kept things platonic while he’d been a slight manwhore. All that stopped at the beginning of the school year. Things went a way we could never take back, and that was
the us we were now.

  I rode alongside him in the truck. It was nearing ten at night. We’d talked Race into being our eyes and ears at the country club—because we’d helped him out last year, he returned the favor. He’d agreed to stay at the party (ignoring Taz’s requests to leave for the bonfire) and keep an eye on Cross’ dad and his date.

  Cross’ phone buzzed once again. It’d been going off since we left Roussou. Jordan turned in to a ritzy neighborhood, high up on some hill. All the houses were fancy.

  “What’s the latest?” Jordan asked.

  “Thirteen,” Cross replied.

  We all grinned. Taz had asked Race for the thirteenth time to go to the bonfire.

  Cross sent back a text.

  “What’d you say?” Zellman stuck his head in through the back window.

  Cross put his phone back into his pocket, glancing over his shoulder. “I told him to give us thirty minutes; then they can leave.”

  “Thirty?” I asked as Jordan paused in front of a mansion. “You sure about that?”

  Just eyeballing the place, I could tell it had security. A lot of security. There was a gate, a camera at the top.

  This was not a good idea.

  “Shit.” Jordan hit the steering wheel, leaning over to get a better look. “Cross. Man—”

  I finished for him. “We scale that fence, I guarantee an alarm is going to the police, and they’re not that far from here—just down the hill over there. We can’t get in here.”

  Cross glared at the house, a vein sticking out from his neck. “This is the fucking address he gave my mom. It was written on the paper next to her computer in her office. What the fuck does his girlfriend do at Kade Enterprises?” He leaned out the window, as if the mansion or the ritzy street could give us the answers.

  Me? I’d moved on. I knew we weren’t getting into that place, but this neighborhood? I couldn’t believe people actually lived here. Every lawn was manicured, at least the ones we could see through the gates.

  There were no cracks in the sidewalk. A few trees had crystal lights on them. Palm trees dotted the streets. All their streetlights worked. A lady was walking a little dog on a pink leash, and I was pretty sure there were diamonds on the dog’s collar. Maybe just sequins? Either way, they was rich. That was for damn sure.

  I felt two inches tall.

  The lady eyed us as she drew closer, and she looked right at me. Suspicion flared, her hand going into her pocket.

  “Gotta go,” I muttered.

  Her phone was coming out, and she was going to call the cops. I knew it.

  Jordan cursed, and he moved to put the truck in drive just as another lady stepped up. She slapped her hand down on the edge of the truck bed.

  “The fuck?” Z almost fell backward, scrambling around to see who had got the jump on us.

  It was a middle-aged woman, and she ignored us. She was solely focused on the pink-leash-dog-walking lady, the cop-calling one. She smiled wide and raised her hand high, waving, making a big deal out of it. “Hiya, Clara! How are you doing?”

  Her voice was loud too, and she was doing it on purpose.

  Z scowled at her. “Lady, let go of our truck.”

  Her hand tightened.

  Jordan opened his door and started around to her side.

  She continued talking, her hand still in the air. “How’s Gordon doing? Did you call Brentworth’s firm? I know they’re excellent at defending their clients.” She gave a forced laugh, but it was a hearty one. “It never matters if they’re guilty, and don’t you worry about your Gordon. Even if he goes in for a little bit, I’m sure they’ll send him to a day-camp sort of place.”

  The dog-walking woman had frozen, but after the lady gripping the truck kept on, her voice getting louder and louder, the dog walker finally yanked her dog around and hauled ass back the way they had come.

  “Lady,” Jordan growled, now at her side. “You need to let go of my truck. Now.”

  She waited, her eyes following the dog walker until she turned a corner. Finally stepping away, she removed her hand and moved toward the front of the truck. She came slowly, her hands out like she was being arrested. Her eyes found mine and held them, until all four of us were staring at her.

  She raised her chin in the air, her hands going to her sides. “I know you.”

  Jordan moved up, just outside of Cross’ door. He looked at me. Z had jumped out, coming to stand next to Jordan. He looked over too.

  Cross raised his chin in challenge. His tone was chilled. “Who the fuck are you?”

  She ignored him, her eyes only on me. “You’re Monroe’s little sister, aren’t you?” She nodded to herself. “Yeah. Yeah. You are. I knew your mother, way back when. She and I used to run around together. Got into all sorts of problems.” She lowered her head, her mouth forming a somber line. “I’ve not told anyone that. You know me?”

  I shook my head. “No.”

  Her chest rose, and her mouth turned down before her head bobbed again. “I figured as such. I didn’t know if she’d say anything. I’m Malinda McGraw-Strattan.”

  She said that like I should know it.

  I shook my head. “I don’t know you.”

  Her nostrils flared. “You’re Channing’s sister, right?”

  I didn’t answer.

  Her eyes narrowed. “Heather Jax’s fiancé, right? He proposed.”

  I still didn’t respond.

  She huffed out, “Are you serious? Or are you shitting me? Heather’s best friend is my stepdaughter.” She waited again for a response.

  I knew who she was talking about, but not until now. Channing knew everyone in Roussou. Heather knew a whole ton of people from both towns. Someone saying they knew them didn’t mean shit to me.

  But the best friend part clicked into place.

  A person needed a family tree to understand all the connections, but I’d listened enough to know she was talking about Samantha Kade—the Olympic runner married to a pro footballer. Yeah, even someone like me who didn’t care a lot about fame and names was a little awed by that. But that wasn’t why I cared. Samantha was a good friend to Heather. That’s what I cared about, and the Patriot was friends with my brother. They’d come to visit a few times. Every time, I vanished. That was their life, not mine.

  “Yeah.” Malinda had been watching me the whole time. “Now you’re getting it all. Samantha’s my stepdaughter. I married the daddy who raised her.” She flicked her gaze over the guys, lingering on Cross before moving to Jordan, then Zellman. “You boys play sports?”

  Jordan didn’t answer.

  Cross said nothing.

  Zellman looked at me, then her, then the others. “Are we...she’s a friend, right? Not an enemy? Can I answer that question?”

  Jordan flicked his eyes to the sky. “Fuck’s sakes, Z.”

  “What? B, you never said you knew Coach Strattan’s wife.” He held his hand out, striding over. “I play ball. I mean, not with our school because our team sucks, but I play in the summer leagues. We’re starting up in May. And I know all about your husband. He turned around Fallen Crest Public’s football team. They went to State after he transferred over.”

  Her lips curved up. Her eyes were twinkling. “You follow sports?”

  “Oh yeah. What guy doesn’t?” He looked back, saw all of us just watching, and cleared his throat. “What? Like Cross isn’t going to ask about whatserface. You know he is. Stop glaring at me. I’m just beating you to the punch.”

  Malinda’s grin turned warmer, and she moved closer to the door. “My house is the back one. Was taking my garbage out and saw your truck slowing down, and no offense, but you guys don’t blend. And you really don’t blend this time of night. I know you ain’t a group of criminals, but a bit of friendly advice from a mama bear to someone who I consider connected through family. Because Bren, honey, Channing, and Heather are family to us, so that means you’re family.” She looked at the guys. “You all might want to head out. I’m fairly c
ertain a call went to the police as soon as you pulled onto the street.”

  Jordan’s lips thinned. “If you all are that stuck-up, why the fuck don’t you have a gated community?”

  She laughed. “Because that costs more money, and we all need to agree on the same rules. You really don’t know this block, do you? We got a fair bit of enemies living across the street from each other. That means no rules are ever agreed on, so no gate. We all just do our own.”

  Cross’ phone buzzed. He cursed as soon as he read it.

  Jordan eyed him. “They took off?”

  “Shit.” Cross looked at me, indecision clear in his gaze.

  We were in a bad spot.

  But I didn’t like asking for help.

  I asked under my breath, “Can we come back?”

  He lowered his voice. “You know we can’t get in there, even if we wanted to.” He held my gaze, but moved his head in the direction of this Malinda person. “Should you ask? Or should we figure it out some other way?”

  Jordan’s head was down. I knew he was listening, being the closest to our door and open window, but he didn’t say anything.

  Z was quiet too, until he threw his hands in the air. “Enough’s enough. I’m deciding. All of us suck at computer stuff, and that’s the only way we’re going to find anything out.” He nodded at the house we’d been scoping out. “You know who lives there? Can you tell us anything about her?”

  Malinda glanced at the home, her eyebrows went up, and she turned back to us. Slowly. “You’re asking about Marie?” She laughed. “Marie DeVroe. She moved here a couple months ago, divorced from her husband.”

  She was studying me again.

  Those eyes. Warm, earth-toned, but damn smart too. Her brown hair was pulled up in a ponytail. She was dressed in jeans and a nice shirt—almost like us, but I knew she wasn’t like us. I didn’t know why she kept referencing me, as if we should know each other. That world she came from was a million miles from mine. Yeah, there was a bridge, Heather and my brother, but the bridge was long and slim. Not much space for even them to go back and forth, as much as they did. Heather was more on Malinda’s side of the bridge than Channing, but I wasn’t on the bridge. I wasn’t anywhere close to it.

  Cross was waiting for a signal from me, whether to press for more information or not.