Crew (Crew Series Book 1)

by Tijan

  “Crew is crew. Our enemies are shared. Why don’t you fucking get that?” Jordan loomed over her, twice her weight and probably three times her strength. No guy had ever dared treat her this way.

  He didn’t need to say anything else. Her eyes darted around the scene once more, and she gave the tiniest of nods. She’d gotten the message.

  Jordan stepped back and flashed her a bright smile. “Hope this doesn’t affect my chance of getting in your pants this weekend, but I’m glad you’re sorted. Don’t fuck with one of mine again.” He began walking backward toward the house.

  Taz remained frozen in place behind us, and she scooted to the side as he went past.

  He glanced at me. “I know you had to.”

  Yeah. He’d asked me to be nice. “She insulted me.”

  “I know.” There was no judgment in his eyes, just acceptance. With a wink, he opened the door and went inside.

  “Cro—”

  He cut her off. “Go inside, Taz.”

  Her mouth closed, but she didn’t go.

  “Go inside,” he said again.

  She bit the inside of her cheek, but did as he’d asked. Her shoulders hunched over as she went. Once the door closed behind her, Cross nodded to me. My turn now.

  I stepped forward again, and Tabatha flinched, her upper back hitting the truck. She bounced off, steadying herself.

  “You want to fuck him.” I gestured to Cross.

  Some of her color came back, pooling in her cheeks.

  “And another of my crew members wants to fuck you.” I folded my arms. I wasn’t going to put hands on her again. “To say things are a little complicated is an understatement.” I shook my head. “I have a feeling Taz has been telling you stories of how nice and kind I am, right?”

  She gulped, but lifted her head. Just a bit.

  “So she’s talking to you and making me look like a pretty princess, right? And somewhere along the line, you forgot your first instinct about me—you forgot to stay the fuck away. You started remembering how much you like Cross. You started remembering how great a friend he is to me, and you heard all these stories from Taz about how close he and I are. But we can’t be together, right? Because we’re crew. So you started envisioning yourself with him. Am I getting this right?”

  She looked down. “Yeah,” she said.

  I’d heard enough.

  “My ‘guys’ aren’t here to save the day,” I told her. “My crew is—which includes me. I’m not just the girl in their guy group. I’m one of them. They bleed, I bleed. I am here to save the day, just like they are. You get it? You’re talking to me like I’m one of you. Like I’m a fucking pretty princess who can’t fight her own fight. I’m not. I’m crew. Are you following me?”

  She refused to meet my eyes.

  “I don’t get what you intended just now,” I told her. “Did you just forget how things work?”

  Another wait. It wasn’t as long this time.

  “I forgot how things work.”

  Did I need to refresh her again?

  Cross did it for me. “Don’t fuck with us.”

  Her head had been so high in the beginning. Now she looked like we’d taken her favorite toy away. The transformation was remarkable. She could go cry to someone, say I’d put my hands on her. I had. I shouldn’t have, but I did. I knew what we’d done was bad.

  We did it anyway.

  The door opened behind us, and Jordan called, “We need your help with Race.”

  Cross and I moved at the same time, going for the house.

  “They’re hurting him?” Cross yelled.

  “No.” Jordan pushed the door wide for us. “It’s the other way around. He’s hurting them. It’s all-out war out there.”

  We ran through the house and out onto the front lawn. He wasn’t kidding.

  The back half of the crowd was the jocks and their friends. The other half, their backs to the streets, was the Ryerson crew. I stopped to count them. Our crew went everywhere together, but Ryerson’s crew was big—over thirty the last I knew—so they didn’t always need everyone at a fight.

  Tonight, however, I counted just under thirty, including the four on the ground.

  Race stood in the middle of everything, throwing the crew members around. He wasn’t letting them pin him down. That was his only saving grace. Once that happened, it would’ve been over. He was grabbing one and twisting his body around, evading and dodging, then hitting. It helped that the ones trying to grab him were a few of their older members, which was wrong in a whole other level. The high school guys should’ve waded in, but I saw some of them in the back.

  Wait a minute.

  They weren’t just in the back. They were literally standing back, their hands in pockets, a few fisted at their sides, or their arms crossed over their chest.

  They weren’t okay with what they were doing.

  They were actively stating it too, at least in crew language.

  Alex, whether he realized it or not, was fucked. It was a matter of time.

  Some of the jocks looked like they wanted in on the fight. A few waded in, but they pulled back if a Ryerson got too close. One threw a cup of something at them. It bounced off a Ryerson crew member like a fly.

  Jordan moved through the crowd and gave the guy a look. “Nice,” he sneered. “Real tough of you.”

  At the sound of his voice, everything changed.

  The Ryersons all looked up, and the three surrounding Race fell back a couple feet. All eyes went to Jordan, then the rest of us. When the jocks realized Jordan was there, they moved aside. A path opened, and as one, we walked to stand in the center of it all.

  Race’s shirt had been torn off. Blood caked one side of him, and his chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath. His eyes were wild, panicked, and as he realized no one was advancing, he swung around. He almost raised a hand to Jordan, but caught himself.

  His gaze jumped to me.

  Alex moved forward, half his face bruised and his lip swollen. He wiped a hand over his face, smearing blood. He didn’t notice, or he didn’t care.

  “What are you doing here?” he snarled at us. “He’s not your crew.”

  Jordan looked to Cross, who stepped forward. “This is his house.”

  Alex’s eyes narrowed. “Race isn’t your crew.”

  Cross went rigid, then relaxed into a fighting stance. He was ready, and Alex knew all the signs. “This is my house.”

  “So what?” Alex demanded. “You want us to move to the street?” He pointed to some of his crew. They started for his cousin, who jumped back. “We can do that. Believe me.”

  One reached for Race, who batted his arm away. He jogged backward, his arms up, ready to swing.

  “What are you doing, Alex?” I’d had enough.

  Alex shook his head. “Fuck, Bren. Really?”

  “You’re at Cross’ house.” I held his gaze. “If we singled someone out at your house?” I paused a beat. “If we didn’t clear it with you first? It’s about respect, Alex. You’re not showing it.”

  Alex closed his eyes. He took a calming breath.

  When he spoke, his voice was gravelly, like he was just clinging to his sanity. “Are you fucking kidding me? He’s my cousin. This is a family thing.”

  “Bullshit.” Jordan laughed in disbelief. “You have most your crew here. To beat up one guy?” He gestured to the jocks behind us. “These motherfuckers are too chicken shit to do anything except watch. Thirty to one isn’t a fair fight.”

  “They’re not all here, and he’s a fighter!” Alex countered. “He can defend himself.”

  “You’re making your family fight a crew issue. You think I have my crew back me up if I fight my sister?”

  Cross indicated Taz, who held balled fists up to her face. She was trembling, and Tabatha pushed her way through the crowd to her side. She wrapped her arm around her, pulling her close.

  Alex shook his head. “Why are you involved? We’ll go to the street if that’s
the issue.” He snapped his fingers at Race. “Come on. You heard him. We gotta move.” He turned to go. So did his crew.

  Race didn’t.

  His hands rested on his hips, and he seemed to be concentrating on steadying his breathing. Sweat trickled down his face. He wiped at it, almost angrily.

  Alex stopped, looking back. “You’re not coming?”

  Race let his head fall back, his Adam’s apple jutting out. “What do you think?”

  “So you’re saying it has to be here?”

  Race didn’t comment, still trying to breathe evenly.

  Alex pointed to him. “You heard him,” he told Cross. “It has to be here or nowhere.”

  Cross stepped forward again. He was fully in the fight now, almost side by side with Race. He held up a hand. “You back the fuck up or this definitely isn’t a family fight anymore.”

  The tension doubled, sweeping through everyone.

  Alex sputtered out a curse, raking his hands through his hair. “You’re going to make this a crew thing? We outnumber you.”

  A smirk fluttered over Cross’ face before his mask returned. “You know how we feel about a challenge.” He grinned. “It’s the shit we live for.”

  We all moved to stand with Race.

  If Alex came, he was coming at us.

  “This is bullshit!” Alex threw his arms wide. “This is a family thing.”

  “Thirty Ryerson crew to one Normal.” My stomach churned with anger. “That’s not a family fight. It’s a massacre.”

  Alex started laughing. And then he couldn’t stop. It reminded me of a hyena. He pointed at me. “That’s funny coming from you. I’ve done a lot of things, but I’ve never stabbed my school principal.”

  We’d drawn the line.

  He’d just crossed it.

  I drew my knife out, flipping it open. Alex focused on it immediately

  “This thing?” I murmured.

  I was taunting him. He knew it.

  His eyes went cold. “You’re about to cross a line—”

  “You already did. You insulted me. There’s no going back after that.”

  I could see Tabatha from the corner of my eye. She was still comforting Taz, running a hand up and down her arm.

  “People need to stop underestimating me,” I said, turning her way for a moment. “It’s getting old.”

  Her hand paused halfway up Taz’s arm. She blinked, then kept rubbing. There was no other reaction from her.

  “It’s up to you, Alex. Stay and fight us, or leave.”

  We were all ready to go.

  Race wiped a hand over his face, then assumed his fight position. He was still sweating and bleeding, but his shoulders rolled back.

  “They interrupted round one,” he said. “You ready for round two, cousin?”

  Alex bit back a growl. He focused on me. “You cut us and what then? Cops will know. You’ll get charged.”

  My mouth almost fell open. “Was that a joke?”

  “He’s desperate,” Race said.

  Alex gave his cousin a hostile look. “No joke, cuz. But anyway, you know how the cops are. They’ll assume shit. They might assume it was Bren who sliced one of my crew open.” He shrugged. “What about that? It’s hard to tell who’s doing what in a big brawl. You’ll get charged, won’t you? You might go away to juvie then? Maybe even prison.”

  I was having déjà vu.

  This fucker was threatening me—same as Sunday, same as Tabatha. Same as all the other times Alex had forgotten his place.

  But this time he’d really messed up.

  A ripple was spreading through his crew. The first few couldn’t believe what they’d heard. They looked at each other, shaking their heads.

  Threatening what he had, implying they’d find out—that was snitching.

  That was violation number one, of all crews.

  No one narced, no one.

  I shook my head. “You’re no longer our problem, Alex.” I glanced at his group. They were backing up, and he didn’t even know. They had withdrawn to the street. He was almost alone. A few were already heading to their cars, though some lingered back.

  I had no doubt one simple meeting would make up their minds.

  Alex was out. And I was going to enjoy this.

  “Tides turn real fucking quick, huh?” I gestured behind him.

  He turned to look, and the fight drained from him.

  “Guys?!” He started for them. “What are you doing? Come back here!”

  They ignored him. The few that remained held up their hands. One by one, they turned to go.

  It was quiet as we watched their vehicles leave.

  The Ryerson crew had been led by a Ryerson for years. I wondered what their new name would be. It felt wrong not to have a Ryerson crew, but then I looked over at Race. He could lead them.

  As if sensing my thoughts, he looked over at me, totally deflated. But I also saw the anger there, the darkness, the hatred burning. No, he wouldn’t lead them.

  I turned back toward Alex. “Threatening to be a narc is proclaiming you’re a narc.”

  He roared, lunging for me.

  I had my knife ready, but Cross and Jordan stepped in front of me.

  They didn’t hit him. They just shoved him back.

  Jordan got in his face. “You touch one of us, you’re dead. I’m goddamn sick of your shit.” His waved to the street, dismissing him. “This fight is over. You’re over. Get away from us.”

  Alex closed his eyes. The violence was still there, but he couldn’t do a thing now. His hands were tied.

  He looked right at his cousin. “Your mother is never going to find work here. She’s over. It’s been a long time coming.”

  “Goddamn!” Race exploded, surging past Cross and Jordan. They caught him and pushed him back, but he threw his arms over them, still trying to get at Alex. “Fuck you! Fuck your whole fucking family.”

  I was guessing someone had finally told his mom about her soon-to-be ex-sister-in-law.

  Alex started moving toward his vehicle. “Yeah. Right. You’ll learn what it’s like to piss on a real Ryerson now, Race. Good luck with that.” He opened his door.

  “Good luck with being known as an informant!” Race yelled after him. “Hope you stay above ground longer than me!”

  Alex started his truck, and extending a middle finger in the air, he drove off.

  I would’ve liked to laugh off Race’s last words, but I couldn’t.

  Narcs got killed.

  A chill went through my body.

  I’d never heard of a crew narc before now. I wished I still hadn’t.

  “You okay?” Jordan asked.

  He was about to slap Race on the back, but he pulled the hit so it was more of a tap.

  Race flashed him a grin before he doubled over, groaning. He rested his hands on his knees.

  “Race!” Taz rushed to his side.

  She slipped her head under one of his arms and straightened, helping him do the same. Race groaned again, grabbing at his side.

  Two Normals stepped in, one replacing Taz and the other taking Race’s free side. She followed, worry pulling her eyebrows together. She bit her lip as she reached out, her fingertips grazing over Race’s back like she just needed to touch him. The guys led the way inside, and as soon Race was seated in a chair at the kitchen table, Taz pulled out the first aid kit.

  My crew stood around the table, ready to help. We knew our way around a first aid kit, but as Taz knelt in front of Race, I could see that wild horses weren’t going to pull her away from him. Her mouth set in a determined line as she began to clean up his wounds.

  Cross pulled out a chair close to Race and sat. “You going to live?”

  Race started laughing, but the movement caused him pain, and he moaned. He cursed, shaking his head. “Goddamn Alex.” He sighed. “Yeah, I’ll live.”

  Jordan and Zellman sat at the table. I was content to rest against the wall. Tabatha and Sunday and a couple other gir
ls were standing around in the kitchen, there if Taz needed something. Some of the athlete guys lingered too, but no one said much of anything.

  This was the aftermath of a crew fight—whether it had started as that or not. This was the time when we regrouped. We talked. We had our debriefing, sorting out the hows, whys, and what would happen next.

  These meetings always tired me out. The goal was to protect ourselves against future threats, and that usually meant more fighting.

  But these guys—the Normals in our world—did not seem tired. Awe, fear, and curiosity all mixed together in their eyes. They were hungry for more. Those of us around the table ignored them.

  “You want to clue us in on what that fight was about?” Cross asked.

  Race cringed.

  Taz looked up. “Sorry.” She went right back to cleaning.

  Race let out a harsh laugh, hissing. “I might have a broken rib, Taz.”

  “I know.” She didn’t stop working though. “But you have a gushing cut here. I need to clean it up before we go to the hospital.”

  We all cringed at the mention of a hospital.

  Hospitals meant questions, and those questions sometimes meant cops. No thanks.

  I looked around. None of the people in the kitchen seemed concerned about going to the hospital. They didn’t have reason. They weren’t considered troubled.

  My stomach rolled over.

  I didn’t want to be here. There were too many people, too many opinions, too many questions, too many of everything. I could feel the pressure pushing down on me.

  The room was starting to suffocate me.

  I slipped out, trying to go quietly. I didn’t want the others to worry, but I had to exit. Once I stepped outside, I breathed in the night air and almost right away, it settled my stomach. I was moving toward the pool when I heard Cross’ voice behind me.

  “You want to talk now?”

  I startled. I hadn’t realized he followed me. I turned to find his face half in shadows.

  I opened my mouth, about to answer, but then I just looked at him. I really looked at him. Like I had in my bedroom, I felt another veil falling from my eyes. He had stepped into a role he hadn’t wanted until now, but I knew it was in him.