The Sterling Shore 1.5 Kade's Game - C. M. Owen.pdf

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Kade’s Game

Published by C.M. Owens at Smashwords

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The story in this book is the property of the author, in all media both physical and digital. No one, except the owner of this property, may

reproduce, copy or publish in any medium any individual story or part of this novel without the expressed permission of the author of this

work.

Thank you to the wonderful C.J. Pinard, author and editor, who took the time to edit this for me.

You’re absolutely amazing, and I can’t thank you enough.

Dream as if you’ll live forever. Live as if you’ll die today

—James Dean

Chapter One

"Let's get wet!" Mel screams, her overly excited voice grating on my nerves. I hate that fucking

game.

This party got out of hand over an hour ago. I'm not sure why security let so many people in that I

didn't invite. I'll make sure to never hire those morons again. Everyone is sloppy drunk, and I don't

have time for the obnoxious frat boys tonight.

Normally, fraternities are great for building bonds, but I don't have the time nor the patience to

deal with their constricting rules and ridiculousness. My parties get more attention than theirs

anyhow because of the reputable names that come. Tonight...

tonight

is an embarrassing disaster.

Everyone is too drunk and pointless, and very few are leaving, which means I'll have one hell of

a mess by morning. The maids will curse me when I call the cleaning service.

I lock the door to my room, but loud laughter draws me to my window. I can't help but notice

Raya Capperton is already at her window to investigate. She's on her phone - possibly calling the

cops as she looks out at the four frat boys who are now laughing as they crash through her fence,

making me grimace.

Ah, hell. I'll have to replace that. She already hates me, though I have no idea why. She's one

icy bitch most days, if she even bothers to glance at me. I stopped trying to be nice when I waved

once or twice, only to be ignored or glared at.

And rich people are accused of being stuck up. She has to be the most unapproachable person

I've ever met.

The drunken idiots head toward a bulldozer. That can't be good. I need to go stop them before

they fuck up and run over my house.

With a weary breath, I head back over to the door, only to be held up three or four times by

slurring fools who won't remember if I was rude or not. I push through, smiling cordially while