“Mason, my man.”

A tall guy came towards us. He was lean and lanky, with a build that resembled a professional basketball player.

“Pailor, how’s it going?”

“It’s going, man.” His mouth curved in an easygoing manner, but his eyes didn’t miss a thing. They were clear and alert. As Logan came around his Escalade, he held his hand out. “Logan, my dude.”

“Frankie.”

“Oh.” He drew back and reassessed both of them. “What are you two up to?” His hand ran over his bald head.

I threw Logan a sidelong look. “Nothing. What are you talking about?”

Frankie moved back another step, studying us before he shook his head. “See. This look you both gave me. Intense as hell. With you,” he gestured to me, “I expect it, but with this one,” he punched Logan in the stomach, “he’s never showed up without a cocky smirk. He sure never sticks around long. It takes you five minutes to get a girl—two to pick the girl, one to grab her, and the last two to take her somewhere private. Now you show up and there’s no grin, there’s no quick wit,” he pointed at the crowd behind them, “and you haven’t even looked at the girls yet. So that’s how I know you two aren’t here to party.”

Frankie Pailor ran Frisco how we ran Fallen Crest. We played sports against each other, but that was our only rivalry with them. Since Frisco territory touched on both sides of Roussou and Fallen Crest, much like a triangle, we understood Frankie’s dilemma. He kept a friendly alliance with the Broudous as well.

“And my night just got weirder,” Frankie noted as he watched another person break free from the Roussou side. “Should I run interference already?”

Channing Monroe was headed towards us. His jeans rode low on his hips, the top button loose, and his shirt hung open without another one underneath. As he drew closer, he lifted a hand to run through his hair. His other hand held a beer with four bottles stuck inside his pockets. He fished them out and handed one to me and Logan. “Boys.”

Frankie moved back. His eyes skirted from Monroe to me, then Logan before his hands lifted in the air. “I give up. I thought I’d have to come over here and keep the peace. Maybe not.”

Channing flashed him a grin before extending a bottle to him. “I don’t want you to feel left out, Frankie.”

Logan chuckled. He indicated Channing’s chest. “Does that work? Showing off the pecs and shit?”

Channing shrugged. His shirt opened another inch as he lifted his arm, taking a long pull from his beer. “Like you need help with the ladies, Kade.”

“Okay.” Frankie had been studying all of them. “What’s going on? You guys are friendly now?” He jerked a thumb towards the Roussou side. “Budd and Brett know this too?”

“We have a few friends in common.” Everyone was silent after I said that.

Channing shifted so he stood closer to me and Frankie caught the slight movement. “Let me guess, Budd and Brett have no clue?”

I gestured to Channing. “I suppose that’s up to him to answer.”

The good-natured glint in his eyes sobered. He glanced somewhere in the crowd before turning back. “They have no clue.”

“Good,” Logan bit out.

Budd Broudou had been trying to find out who my girlfriend was since he heard about her existence. They asked at Quickie’s and had been back one other time. I didn’t think Sam’s identity had leaked, but I couldn’t wait any longer. The situation needed to be dealt with before it was.

There weren’t many from my school that were friendly with Roussou. The fact that Samantha had friendly connections through Heather hadn’t escaped me. It was ironic, but I was going to use that connection now. Channing Monroe had power over there. He wasn’t friendly with Budd and Brett Broudou, but he wasn’t their enemy either. If Sam got hurt, that would hurt Heather and I recognized another guy in love. Monroe would do what needed to be done to keep Heather from being hurt, and that meant siding with us.

“Is Jax here tonight?”

Channing hesitated.

Logan cursed a moment later. “She’s here, Mase.”

“This has nothing to do with her,” Channing murmured.

He was mistaken and he knew it. I said, “What do you think they’ll do to her if they find out about Sam? Heather knew who she was and she never told them.”

“Oh, whoa.” Frankie shot his hands between us. “You two aren’t friendly? I thought you were. My mind is being blown right now. You guys are enemies? Monroe, I didn’t think you had enemies.”

“We’re not,” he snapped at him, but said to me next, “I’m aware of what will happen. Are you aware that she knows them?”

He wasn’t referring to Heather. Logan and I got the implication. We shared another look.

“Jax?” Frankie asked.

Logan narrowed his eyes. “What are you talking about? She’s never met them.”

“She has, actually. They went to Manny’s one night looking for you. There was a confrontation. Heather had to kick them out.”

“Fuck.”

Channing glanced at Logan. “Exactly.”

“Wait.” I shook my head. “They don’t know. They were still clueless last week.”

“Budd’s clueless …” Channing waited.

Brett wasn’t. I knew what he was leaving unsaid and I glanced at Frankie. He needed to be gone. With that thought, I nudged Logan and jerked my gaze to Pailor. Logan nodded. He understood and transformed. The cocky smirk came over him. His shoulders rolled back, his head went up, and he threw an arm around Frankie’s shoulders.

“Frankie, my man. My appetite came back and I’m thinking you might have some recommendations? I don’t think I’ve tasted too many Frisco girls.”

“Oh geez.” Frankie shook his head, but he couldn’t hold back his smile. As Logan started to lead him away, I heard him continue, “There’s too many, Logan, too many. You need to share the love. Anyone from Fallen Crest …” His voice faded as they moved to the Frisco side of the party.

I jerked my head backwards. We had parked near the edge of the party. The grass lot was surrounded by woods, which meant privacy for us. Once we were far enough away, I didn’t waste time. “Sam met them?”