“Misha!” someone calls. But I ignore them.
All I see is Trey.
“Misha?” someone murmurs. “Who’s Misha?”
The music is still going, but I stare at him, feeling more people start to crowd around us.
I push him away, releasing him as I tighten my fists. She gave it to him?
“Leave,” Ryen orders, appearing at my side.
I jerk my eyes to her and stare down, hovering. “Don’t talk and don’t move,” I bite out, taking in her tits, plain as day in her bikini top and off-the-shoulder shirt that hangs on her like a shredded piece of fucking Kleenex. “You’re all over Facebook, shaking your ass and doing body shots. I’m not happy.”
Her eyes go wide, shock and anger flaring. “Excuse me?” she yells as a couple of girls giggle.
But I turn back around, advancing on Trey. “Where the fuck did you get that watch?”
“What’s your problem?” he snarls. “Go fuck yourself!”
I rear back and punch him across the face, knocking him to the ground. The whole place erupts as his friends and my friends go for each other and partygoers scream and jump out of the way. I dive down and dig my keys out of my pocket, unsheathing the knife on my key chain and leaning over Trey. Everyone above me goes crazy, and I grab Trey’s wrist as he winces from the pain in his face.
“Get off me!” He tries to yank his arm away from me.
But I slide the dull knife between the watch strap and his wrist and pull hard, slicing it off his arm.
“Misha!” I hear Ryen call, and I stand up as everyone stumbles around me.
“Everyone stop now!” a deep male voice bellows from behind. “Turn off the music!”
I look behind me, seeing two cops in black uniforms enter the house, one of them holding his hands around his mouth and shouting.
Shit. I guess someone did report the noise. The whole crowd scurries, running out the sliding glass doors or into the kitchen, where there’s probably a back door.
I shove the watch and key chain at Dane. “Take my truck. Get the guys and go!”
He grabs the stuff from me and alerts Lotus and Malcolm as the two cops busy themselves, trying to stop kids from leaving. My friends dive out the back and disappear, while I stand still, looking over and seeing Ryen, surprised she’s still here.
Her cheeks are flushed, but her eyes are steady on me. She doesn’t look drunk.
Why did I let Trey bait me like that? Ryen wouldn’t do something as reckless as get wasted and follow someone upstairs. I was just looking for a reason to hit him.
And then I look at the guy standing behind her and notice that it’s Ten. It takes a moment, but I finally make the connection. Blond hair, blue shirt… He’s the guy from the video.
Dammit. So I charged over here to beat up a guy who’s probably more attracted to me than Ryen. Great.
“Hey!” Trey shouts, standing up. “He stole my watch!”
I stay rooted in place, but I take out my phone and shoot a text to Dane that I’ll probably be arrested. He’ll know what to do.
The music cuts off, and a cop comes around, standing between Trey and me.
“What are you doing here, son?” he asks me.
“Just partying.”
“He has my watch,” Trey grits out.
But I just shrug. “Search me. I don’t have anything.”
Trey comes in close, invading my space and glaring at me, but the cop pushes him back. “You’re in enough trouble,” he tells him. “Stand back.”
But Trey is a wall. He doesn’t come closer, but he stays rooted.
“He wasn’t invited, he started a fight, and he stole my watch,” he says again.
My lips lift in a small smile.
The cop looks to me. “What’s your name?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where do you live?”
“I forget,” I answer, still staring at Trey.
I hear the cop breathing hard, turning angry. I don’t want to be difficult, but Dickwad can’t know who I am. I don’t want Misha Lare on the radar in this town. Not yet.
“Put your hands behind your back,” he orders.
I do as I’m told, and he moves around to put handcuffs on me.
“Wait, no!” Ryen argues.
But I look at her, softening my expression. “It’s fine. Don’t say anything.”
Don’t tell them who I am.
“Alright, I’m taking this one in,” the officer tells the other cop who’s busy on his walkie talkie. “Clear this out, and call Mr. and Mrs. Burrowes.”
The other officer nods and gets back on his radio.
The cop leads me out of the house, and I look at Ryen. There’s a million things I want to say.
I’m done here. I’m going home.
I’ll be anything you want, even gone if that’s what you need.
I love you.
But I just shoot my eyes up to Ten and tell him, “Make sure she gets home safe.”
An hour later I’m sitting in the police station, no longer handcuffed. I lean back in one of the chairs against the wall, my legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle, and my arms folded over my chest. A female cop is talking on the phone behind the counter, and I tap my finger under my arm, playing the tune we were working on at Sticks tonight in my head.
At least I got the watch back. I got both of what I came here for, so I should be happy.
Unfortunately, though, those things that seemed so important three weeks ago seem kind of trivial now.
“Why did he have your watch?” I hear someone ask.
I jerk, startled, and look up. Ryen leans on the corner next to my chair, probably having just come down the hallway from the entrance.