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Party Crashers
Author: Heather Long


Part One







Sex had a smell. It was a little musky, a little sweet—depending on the girl, I supposed—and if you did it right, there was that stink of sweat from the effort. It added just the right touch of salt to the headiness of it all. If you did your job, you needed a shower after…There was no mistaking the scent of it.


It was how I knew Ramsey had gotten laid while I was gone.

Good for him.

Ace’s damp clothes in the bathroom, on the other hand, put a whole new spin on that revelation. Ace’s clothes—Ace’s damp clothes. Why were her clothes here? Why could I smell sex?

Why the fuck did Ramsey jerk so hard when he stalked out of his room upset? I curled my hands into fists and fought the urge to tear into him.

Fortunately, Jonas had no such compunction, particularly where Ace was concerned.

“Why are KC’s clothes in your suite?” he demanded as he held them up. Maybe he hadn’t added the presence of the clothes and the lingering perfume of sex in the air together.

Arms folded, I stared at our big brother. Jonas didn’t need much to fly off the handle regarding Ace. Right now? I’d be okay with him breaking Ramsey’s perfect nose.

If I didn’t get there first.

Ramsey raked a hand through his disheveled hair and twisted to glance back into his room. That was when I spotted the red scrapes down his back.

"You son of a bitch…” Jonas hurtled at Ramsey, and as much as I wanted to let him—I slammed into my baby brother and hauled him backwards.

“Story first,” I said, locking my arms. “Then we can kick his ass.”

Because right now, I wanted to know what happened with Ace…

And I needed to know where she was right now. 'Cause if she wasn’t here, that had to mean he’d fucked up.







She was gone. From the moment I opened my eyes, then rolled out of bed to head out here in the desperate hope she was still present, I couldn’t escape the fact that she’d left. She was supposed to be here. Siren promised.


She had not been in a good place, to begin with. And then—fuck me, all I wanted to do was talk to her, make her breakfast, have coffee, and talk. The way we should have before…

Instead of her, however, I had my brothers glaring at me. Jonas held up her jacket. It was crumpled, the wrinkles of the crushed and damp fabric utterly disheveled.

“Why are KC’s clothes in your suite?” he demanded as he held them up. They’d been soaking wet when I peeled them off her. They would need to go to the cleaners regardless.

Hostility practically sizzled in the air around Jonas. His attachment to Kaitlin Crosse had waxed and waned from problematic to beneficial to dangerous. I’d be lying to myself if I said I didn’t see all of those possibilities.

Lachlan was no help, his arms were folded and his gaze was practically ice. He’d taken Jonas out the night before, a distraction—I guess that hadn’t worked, or maybe it had.

Honestly, the last thing I wanted was to discuss her with either of them. Especially before I spoke to her.

Raking a hand through my hair, I turned to head back to my room. If we were doing this, I needed to get dressed. Get dressed. Get coffee. Get KC.

"You son of a bitch…” Jonas shouted. I pivoted to meet his charge. It was hardly the first time Jonas’ temper devolved into pure physical violence. It was always a struggle, though he’d been getting better, and now… Lachlan half-tackled our brother. He leveraged his height and strength to lift Jonas off his feet and drag him backwards.

“Story first,” Lachlan snapped as he narrowly avoided Jonas slamming his head back into Lachlan’s nose. “Then we can kick his ass.”

“Fuck you, Lachlan,” Jonas spit. Yeah, he was not a fan of it any more than I was.

“Enough,” I said, holding up a hand. “We’ll talk, but I need to get dressed and find her first.” That actually had both of them going still.

Shock rippled across their expressions.

“Yes, Kaitlin was here, and now she’s not…” It was just a little after six in the morning.

“When did she leave?” Jonas asked, well more like demanded, though it was slightly better than his spitting fury.

“Before you got back,” I muttered, diverting into my room. I’d yanked the bedsheets up and the blankets. There was no mistaking the sweet scent of her in here, however.

Shuttling that aside, I yanked open a drawer and pulled out a t-shirt. Once I had that on, I swapped the pajama bottoms for sweats, then grabbed shoes and socks. Carrying both out to the front room, I ignored my audience.

The air practically vibrated with all the questions they weren’t asking. “Sit down,” I told Jonas when he kept looming. “I’m not talking to you in this mood.” To prove a point, I didn’t say a word as I got my shoes on and then walked over to the little kitchenette and started a brew. I needed about four gallons.

Then I needed a plan that included a few more details than go knock on her door, or her friend’s, and find her. Both of my brothers stared at me with such intensity that it was hard to ignore.


Did I come clean about the sex? As it was, they’d guessed. I hadn’t confirmed it, but I doubted they’d believe me if I lied and denied it.

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I adjusted my glasses before I pulled out my phone and called her. I had her number in my contacts because of tutoring.

Yeah, that was why I’d kept it.


It rang twice then went to voicemail.

Right, she didn’t want to talk. Only that wasn’t really an option right now. I hit redial.

This time it went straight to voicemail.


I tried again.

Same result.

What was the definition of insanity?

She was supposed to be here. She promised to stay and to talk. I should have pushed it in the middle of the night, but she’d been so exhausted.

“Ramsey,” Jonas snapped, everything in his voice a demand. “What did you do to KC?”

“Pretty sure he fucked her, baby brother,” Lachlan drawled.

I closed my eyes. “That’s not the important part right now.”

“Excuse me?” Lachlan was across the room, and I spared him a look. “You fucking my girl is one hundred percent the important part.”

“She’s not yours,” I said in the same breath as Jonas, and he scowled at me.

“Ace is mine,” Lachlan argued. “I kissed her first. I’ve—”

“Stalking doesn’t make her your girlfriend,” I reminded him. “The last thing she needs is your temperamental ass—and I’m not having this argument with either of you. I need to find her and check on her. That is the important part.” Give me five minutes to make sure she was all right.

Then we could deal with the rest of this shit.

“You had sex with her,” Jonas said, and the disappointment in those five words sliced at me. “Even after…”

Dipping my chin, I got my own ego and feelings in a fist then pivoted to face them both. “It’s not about you,” I told him before I flicked a look at Lachlan. “Or you.”

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