Ride and Die (Ridgemore #1)

10 Ninjas R Us

10

Ninjas R Us

W hile I was no stranger to sneaking out at night, there’d been little need to do it as of late. Over the last couple of years, since I’d gotten my driver’s license, my parents had allowed me to more or less make my own decisions. I didn’t have a curfew, and so long as I kept my grades up to the straight A’s they expected, they asked few questions about my comings and goings. I’d always assumed it was because they trusted me to make good choices. Also because I was rarely out and about without my crew at my side, and they were certain of my friends, too.

Oh, how stupidly wrong I’d been. My parents hadn’t had faith in me and my decision-making abilities. They’d been spying on me. For how long I had no idea, but for too long, of that I was certain.

Despite the fact that I’d been able to think of little else since I discovered their secret room that afternoon, their duplicity still slammed into me like a Mack truck every once in a while. I drifted through dinner at the Raffertys’ and the rest of the night like I was sleepwalking, trying to make sense of a betrayal I doubted I’d ever be able to forget, much less forgive.

Unsure what to wear to search for listening devices installed by my own parents , I dressed for movement, slipping on leggings, a cropped sports top, and a hoodie. I pulled my long hair, currently transitioning from my natural brown at the top into orchid pink and then wild violet at the tips, up into a high ponytail, then ran a hand along Bobo’s head. The moment I’d gotten up, he’d awoken from his well-worn spot on my bed and tracked my every movement with his chocolate eyes. He might not have understood what was wrong, but he damn well knew something was.

“You’re such a smart boy, aren’t you?” I whispered to him, though there should have been no real need. My parents slept on the opposite end of our large house—larger now that I realized there was at least one hidden room. But if my parents had no problem with bugging the treehouse, knowing full well it was my crew’s sacred spot, then who was to say they didn’t have bugs planted all over the damn place? Just in case, I was erring on the side of caution.

As I leaned down toward Bobo to murmur in his ear, he turned and licked my face. I chuckled. “Hey, no, not now.” He kept trying to kiss me until I finally scratched behind both ears; his eyes glazed over and he grinned—and stopped trying to kiss me.

This dog had me wrapped around his paw, but it wasn’t his fault he was so freaking charming.

Around a smile, I breathed, “We’re gonna sneak out.”

His ears perked up, and he pushed to his feet.

“We’ve gotta be quiet, okay?” and I pressed my index finger to my lips, grateful I’d had the foresight to teach him the signal.

Then I rose from the bed, slipped on my running sneakers, and opened the door to my bedroom. Bobo was on my heels, his claws clicking on the hardwood floor of the hallway. We passed the guest room, the bathroom, and the sizable linen closet, then cut across the open entryway to reach the same sliding glass door I’d used earlier.

Pulling it open quietly, I let Bobo out and shut it softly behind me. I waited, my ear near the glass panel of the door. I hadn’t heard a sound, but now that I was aware my parents were some sort of creepy super spies, I wasn’t taking any chances. After an entire minute of nothing but the chirping of insects in the night, I led Bobo to the side of the yard, where we skirted the perimeter until we slipped through the bushes.

The moment we hit the dirt trail that led to the treehouse, I increased our pace, though I didn’t use a flashlight, nor did I have my phone with me. Until I understood exactly what my parents were up to, I wasn’t taking any risks. They could spot a light if they were looking, and they could track my phone. There was nothing more to coordinate; my friends knew what time to meet and what we were doing.

Was paranoia driving these precautions? Surely I was overreacting. My parents were scientists, not freaking CIA agents leading a double life. I wasn’t doing anything important that anyone should take any special interest in. It was all ridiculous.

Even so, I couldn’t help the instincts prickling at the nape of my neck, telling me to be careful.

When Bobo and I reached the clearing in front of the treehouse, the open space illuminated by the soft light of a not-quite full moon, the others were already there. None of them were ever early to a single thing, especially not Layla, who erred on the side of late. And though I was at least ten minutes ahead of schedule, I was the last to arrive.

After scanning everyone, my gaze returned to Griffin, as it seemed prone to do lately in spite of my efforts not to reveal my shifting interest in him—I was trying to prevent the attraction entirely. He wore a pair of ripped jeans, Vans, and a dark hoodie that only exposed part of his beautiful face—his strong jawline, full lips, and dark eyes, made darker by all the shadows cast by the arching trees stretching toward each other overhead.

Hunt was in a similar outfit, though the hood of his shirt was down. The moonlight glimmered across the silver of one of his earrings and his hair, making the black strands reflect a deep, vibrant blue. His mom, Alexis, was originally from Spain, with hair as dark as a raven’s feathers. But Hunt’s dad had been Eastern Band Cherokee, and Hunt took after him, with a sharp nose, high cheekbones, pillowy lips, and a warm cinnamon skin tone. He was striking.

Layla had chosen cutoffs, a tank top, and her own Vans. Like her twin, in the warm months she wore clothes that revealed her arms and legs more often than not. Also like Brady, she enjoyed showing off her ink. Unlike Brady tonight, she wasn’t dressed as a cartoon ninja.

Brady, however… I snorted a laugh.

“What?” he asked with so much bite I suspected I wasn’t the first to give him grief about his appearance.

“Oh, nothing.” But I was grinning.

“ What , Joss? Just say it.”

“Say what?” I asked, feigning innocence for a beat. “That I like your getup?”

“Yeah, that,” he snarled.

“Where’d you find that outfit, Brade? I mean, you know, just in case I need to dress up like a badass motherfucking ninja someday and blend into the trees like smoke.”

Layla chuckled.

“Did you go shopping at Ninjas-R-Us after dinner?” I added.

Another laugh from his sister. “I told him he was going overboard, but as usual he didn’t listen to me, even though I was right. Obvi.”

Brady was dressed in the equivalent of a deep-dive wetsuit, only in a thinner material, that enveloped his body from his ankles up to his wrists, and around his head in a hood that exposed only a small oval of his face. He topped off the costume, which hugged his junk more blatantly than was necessary, in sleek black zero-drop sneakers.

“Assholes,” Brady muttered. “Are we or are we not on a stealth mission?”

Begrudgingly, I admitted that we were.

“So until we know what the hell we’re dealing with here, the less anyone sees me, the better.”

“No doubt about that,” Layla snorted around a single burst of a laugh.

Brady scowled at her. “You’re just jealous.”

“Oh no, brother, I assure you, I am not that.”

“Sure you are. Since we were kids, we’ve been training to become legit ninjas. You’re seeing my awesome gear and wishing you were the one to look so kick-ass.”

Hunt, who was crouched down petting Bobo, tipped his head in Brady’s direction. “He’s got a point there. I mean, he might look like a Halloween version of a ninja, but still, he’s on point as far as how invisible he is compared to the rest of us.”

Layla rolled her eyes. “Stop before he whips out the grease paint for his face. We don’t need to be invisible. We’re looking for listening devices installed by Joss’s parents, not sneaking in for some high-stakes mission or some movie shit.”

All mirth left me then. Griffin, possibly sensing the shift in me, stepped closer and arched a brow at me in question, as he so often did. Even in the semi-darkness, his concern was evident across his hooded face.

I shook my head. “It’s nothing new. Just, I can’t get over what they did. How long have they been listening to us? Has it only been since Brady’s deal and they went all nuts on us? Or for longer?”

Hunt stood, dropping his hands to his sides, so Bobo rounded over to me again, standing by my legs. “The question that’s really been irking me is why would they even want to listen in on us? They already know we’re drinking and partying—we don’t hide that from them—so is it just to figure out if we’re drugging and fucking?”

Guilty on both counts, though not in any dangerous way. We smoked some weed but didn’t do any hard drugs. And the guys and Layla had sex more than I did. The couple of boyfriends I’d had over the years had paled in comparison to my guys. Eventually, I’d stopped making room for the mediocre in my life and, apparently, started fantasizing about Griffin—and the connection he and I could never share.

It was part of the unspoken crew code. None of us would ever go there with each other.

“I don’t know, man,” Griffin said. “No matter which way we turn it, what Monica and Reece are up to is all shades of messed up.”

My scowl deepened. “No doubt. And I want to find out just how far they’ve gone. Like right the fuck now.”

“I brought batteries,” Layla piped up. “In case the flashlights in the treehouse are dead. We haven’t used them in years.”

“Good thinking,” Hunt said, but I was already shaking my head.

“Seriously, what if they have fucking cameras in there? We’ll give ourselves away.”

“If they have cameras in there, they’re gonna have us to worry about, not the other way around,” Griffin practically snarled, Brady nodding along with his fierce tone. “I say we don’t even bother with the flashlights. I googled shit, and the bugs can be really small, like under an inch. We’ve obviously never noticed one before, so we’re gonna have to really look. We bank on them just listening, not watching, and we’re quiet about it. Your parents were asleep when you left the house, right?” he asked me.

“Yeah. Everything was quiet.”

“Okay, so we go in, don’t say a word, and meet out here to talk about it when we’re done.”

“Should we maybe lay down some excuse for us being here in the middle of the night?” Layla asked. “Something like I couldn’t sleep and just wanted to chill out, hit you guys up, and you had my back?”

“That’s a good idea,” Brady said. Layla and I stared at him for a second. That was more praise than he normally gave her.

“He says it like that’s so odd,” she muttered, but didn’t otherwise engage.

Griffin shook his head. “No, we should skip it. When I was researching, I saw that some of them can be sound activated. Saves on whatever power the bugs are pulling on. Better to just go in there with as little noise as possible in case we trip them.”

“Okay, then,” I said. “We’ve got our plan. Now let’s go. I can’t stand another minute of not knowing how big of assholes my parents are.”

“Look everywhere,” Griffin added. “They can literally be almost anywhere. Turn over any ledge or space that could hide a fucking penny. People use radio frequency detectors to find them ’cause they can be so well hidden.”

“We should get one of those,” Hunt said. “I wanna check my house too.”

“Already ordered,” Griffin said. “It’s on its way. But I didn’t think we wanted to wait to get in there to tear the treehouse apart. I know I don’t.”

“Fuck no, I don’t wanna wait,” I said, then faced Bobo. “Stay. Keep guard out here, okay, boy? You hear anyone coming, you come let me know. No barking.”

Bobo chuffed like he actually got all that straight. He was smart as a whip, if still a dog. Whatever of that he followed through on would be great. At the very least, he for sure knew what to do with the terms stay , keep guard , and no barking .

Griffin took my hand, tugging me toward the wooden steps that led up to the treehouse, though that was a slight misnomer. It sat under trees, not up in them, but we named it when we were too young to pay attention to the difference, and the moniker stuck.

Before he pushed open the door, Griffin met my eyes, seeming to search for something within them. Whatever it was, he found it, nodding with satisfaction before sweeping into the treehouse first, blocking the doorway for a few seconds until he verified no one else was there. Then he stepped aside and I entered, doing my best not to be irritated at his misplaced show of chivalry.

As the others streamed in behind us, Griffin flicked on the lights. I winced at the sudden brightness, pinching my eyes shut. Immediately after they adjusted, I stalked toward the folding chairs that surrounded a small table, carried one over to a juncture of wall and ceiling, and got to work searching.

An hour passed, during which I barely kept track of what the others were doing. I checked everywhere I could think of, finding nothing at all beyond evidence that we needed to dust regularly. I was in the process of sitting down on the chair I’d been mostly standing on, blowing errant strands of hair out of my face, when Layla tapped me on the shoulder. When I looked up, my attention fixed on the hella-pissed-off pinch of her face before traveling to her open palm. There, sitting atop it, was an electronic device smaller than any of her fingertips.

“What the fuck?” I mouthed, not letting the curse drop.

“I know,” she responded, equally silently.

When Hunt stalked over, hand also outstretched, fury bubbled up inside me, making my pulse whoosh between my temples. Griffin squeezed my shoulders and gestured for us to head outside.

He closed up while the rest of us seethed in the middle of the clearing. The night sky was darker now that the moon had sunk beneath the surrounding hills, but not even the dim lighting could conceal the fact that my parents were POS.

Bobo pressed against my legs, surely sensing the shitstorm brewing inside me.

When Griffin joined us, he snapped out just one word: “Where?”

“Between one of the coffee table legs and the top,” Layla said. “The one leg was almost flush with the top, but not quite. The fucking bug was wedged in that little, tiny gap.”

We all looked at Hunt. “On the back of the weight rack, which we never move because it’s heavy as shit.”

Several seconds slunk by while we processed.

“Fuck!” Brady whisper-shouted.

“Yeah, no kidding,” I muttered. “And to think my parents seem cookie-cutter boring.”

“Bland as damn unsalted rice cakes, for fuck’s sake,” Layla added.

“We need to scan the place with the RF detector,” Griffin said. “If these were that well hidden, who’s to say we didn’t miss some?”

“How many could they possibly need?” Layla asked.

“No idea,” I said. “Across the board. I have no idea about anything anymore, I swear.”

Hunt swung around to drape his free arm across my shoulders. “It’s gonna be okay, Joss. We’ll figure things out. It’s us against them now.”

“It’s always been us against the world,” Brady added.

I nodded, at a loss for words. I leaned my head against Hunt’s arm in solidarity.

Griffin grabbed the device from Layla’s hand, turning for Hunt’s too. “I’m gonna go put them back more or less in the same area, so at least the sound will be what they’re used to. Till we scour the place with the RF detector thing, we assume they’re listening to every word.”

“I don’t know how I’m gonna pretend with them that I don’t know something’s wrong,” I mumbled.

“Well, you’re gonna have to, girl,” Layla said.

“Lay’s right,” Griffin said. “Until we figure out how bad the situation is, we don’t let on.”

“At least we didn’t find any cameras,” Hunt added with a frown that told me he wasn’t satisfied with that consolation prize either.

“Tell your parents you’re sleeping over at my place tomorrow night,” Layla offered. “At least then you’ll get a break from them.”

“Sounds good. Thanks.” But it was a stupid thing to say. Having to escape my parents because they were traitorous, two-faced assholes did not sound good.

Griffin went back in to plant the bugs again, this time easy to find and remove, then rejoined us, eyes immediately on me and the way Bobo was basically attached to my legs.

“You okay?”

“Dandy,” I said, my voice flat.

“We’d better get back before Mom notices we’re gone,” Brady said. “For all I know, she might have a tracker embedded somewhere on me. After this, and with how she’s been acting, I swear I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Only he would be surprised, for sure he would. He’d be shocked to experience the kind of treachery I was feeling from the people I was supposed to be able to trust above all others.

“Yeah, let’s get home,” Layla said. “I’m not risking Mom going any more DEFCON on us if we don’t have to.” She glanced at me. “You sure you’re gonna be okay?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” And I really was. I might have grown up in the quiet town of Ridgemore, but my friends and I had never been soft. We’d kept each other sharp from the beginning, as if we’d always known a moment like this would arrive to make it abundantly clear that we really were on our own. Even in Ridgemore, we were still pitted against a bunch of idiotic teenagers who were our peers, and now persistent journalists, among others. Life threw shit at you no matter how or where you lived, and your daily experience depended on how easily you wiped that shit off and moved on.

“All right. Night, guys,” I said, eyes on Bobo instead of them, and walked away.

Without verbal agreement, the four of them followed until Bobo and I crossed through the mountain laurel enclosing my yard. And when I slipped through the sliding glass door back into my house, I caught glimpses of them between branches and leaves.

No matter what, we were crew, through and through. They had my back even when I didn’t ask for their support, just as they knew I’d always have theirs.