by Tijan
Trundle was coming back to us, a little grin on his face. He was a bigger guy, in a black t-shirt that had an orange ghost on it, and khaki pants.
Pretty sure the weed smell was coming from him.
That, and his dilated eyes.
“Heya there. Sorry I didn’t put two and two together. My sister is Hawk.”
“Really?” Hawk hadn’t mentioned her family.
He nodded, his hand resting on the counter and starting to beat out a rhythm. “Older. She’s mentioned you and I should’ve known. Said you were hella hot, a tough bitch. Her words. That’s a compliment from my sis. If she mentions you, she either hates your guts or likes you.”
“Older sister?”
He nodded, his head and neck were so relaxed, it was like he was bouncing it up and down or like one of those bobble head toys. “Yeah, and hey, I don’t know if you guys are legal, but on the down-low, I can give you a soda with an extra kick.” He winked on the last word, his eyes jerking toward Brock. “Just don’t let Brock know. Bounty hunters and all, he looks down on that shit, but if Hawkie likes you, I figure you’re good people.”
Cross’ hand came to my hip. “Thank you.” He guided me away and moved behind me.
It was after we chose our balls and were on our lane when Cross sank down next to me. “That Brock guy was scoping us out. Should we be aware of something?”
I paused in the middle of tying my bowling shoes. “Huh?”
Cross nodded at him, his arm brushing against mine. “He’s watching us now.”
I straightened, seeing what he was talking about.
Brock was at the end of the bar, a pile of papers in front of him, but he was staring at us. At my own look, he didn’t turn away. A drink was in front of him, his phone on the counter. He had a faraway expression on his face.
I’d told the guys about my coworkers. Cross knew that Brock was more or less the leader of the entire team. I’d yet to meet Bonbon, thankfully. According to Bonnie, her daughter had decided to move to Florida. No one knew why, but there’d been a lot of cursing that morning, and a few cheers from others. But back to what the guys knew about my co-workers. They knew everything.
Zellman and Jordan joined us, shoes on, and walked to put their balls on the ball holder.
Zellman came back, dropping into the scorekeeper seat. “This is kinda a cool place to work. Their offices are on the other side, I’m assuming?” He glanced over his shoulder, stilling. “And, dude, why’s your boss staring at us?”
Jordan was just sitting on the seats opposite us when he heard Zellman’s question. He went rigid looking, too. “What the fuck?”
Cross stood up, the first to bowl. “Has he asked you about your dad?”
I shook my head. “Not after the first day.”
“What the fuck?” From Jordan again.
“That’s messed up.” Zellman stood up.
All the guys were standing, all staring at Brock with varying expressions. Jordan looked ready to rip his head off. Zellman was frowning. Cross was staring back steadily, calm-like. Noting the other guys’ reactions, Cross was the first to break. He went to bowl, leaving one pin standing.
Zellman groaned, sitting back down. “Are you kidding me? Of course, Cross is an ace bowler.”
He put in the score, waiting as Cross cleared the last pin. Another growl from Zellman.
Jordan eased back his attitude, shooting Zellman a grin and going up. He was next in line. He got seven, and only hit one of the three pins on his next roll. It was my turn after that. I had a weird wrist action, so I got six and picked up three of my last four.
Zellman got a gutter ball in the first try.
Both Cross and Jordan snorted, heads hanging down.
Zellman shook his head. “Not a fucking word, assholes.” He grabbed his ball as soon as it cleared the holder and got five pins on the second attempt. More grumbling as he went back to his seat.
As bowling went, I was guessing we were fairly lame.
We bowled. We sat. We joked.
Contrary to how much Zellman liked bowling, he was horrible at it. Cross and Jordan were tied. I was behind them, but a good distance better than Zellman’s score. He was really, really bad. But after the first few throws, Zellman headed back out to the vehicle. He came in with beverages, handing them to each of us. The initial plan had been that only Jordan would drink. It was his night. We’d watch over him, but spend our time bowling and having fun. Even through the griping, Zellman was having a great time, so Cross said he’d be sober cab and the rest of us could indulge.
So we did. I hadn’t intended to drink, but changed my mind.
After our second game, most people had left. Trundle came over and he started to bowl with us. When Zellman sniffed his drink, Trundle winked at him. “Don’t tell the boss.”
Jordan scowled at him. “You’re not driving, are you? That shit’s not funny.”
His head came up, the wink gone. “Uh, no. I’m not bad, but Brock’ll give me a ride.”
Brock. We were back to him.
We’d forgotten about him.
Jordan was the one who looked. “He’s gone.”
Trundle said, “He’s in the back. He stays while most of the customers are here, in case anything pops off, but you guys are the last ones left, so he headed back in. He does paperwork.”
Cross asked, “Does he work every night?”
“Most, but Gramps covers some of the other nights. Bonbon used to be in charge of the evening shifts, since she’s too nuts for the day stuff and all. She took off, though, so Brock’s been covering for her.”
Zellman grunted. “Guy’s a workaholic.”
“Well, he’s the owner.”
“Wait. What?” From me.
Trundle nodded at me, picking up his ball. We all had one last turn to go, and he stepped toward the lane. “Yeah. He’s the owner.”
“I thought Gramps and Bonnie owned it all?”
He shook his head, coming back after his turn. He hit four, then got the rest of his pins. “Nah. I mean, Hawk said something how they used to be the owners. Brock took over a few years back.”
“Does he have a hard-on for Bren or something?” Jordan was looking behind us.
Brock had come back out, heading for us. He stopped, his hand raised. “Finish up! It’s time to go.”
I stood for my last turn, and yeah, I was buzzed. Nicely buzzed.
I grinned at Cross, who saw my look and instantly started laughing. “Bren’s drunk.”
Zellman and Jordan shared a look.
Zellman thrust a fist in the air. “Yes.” He turned to Trundle. “Bren never drinks.”
“It’s because it’s Halloween and I’m pretending to be a college student.”
Trundle snickered. “I’m off to finish up. It was nice meeting you guys. Don’t be strangers.” He waved, taking off for a back door.
Jordan was frowning at the scoreboard. “Who won?”
Cross went next, got a strike. Second strike. Third strike. “I did.”
Jordan growled. “Not cool, but fitting. You’re the DD.”
Zellman picked up his ball. “I’m hungry.”
Cross was putting his and my ball away. He went up, waiting for us by the tables that we needed to pass for the door. “Is there a place open twenty-four-seven?”
“There’s a diner not far. It’s a college hangout. PubTown.” The answer came from behind the register.
Cross frowned at Brock, but skimmed over the rest.
Zellman and Jordan were trailing behind me.
“You guys want to eat there? Head home?”
“Uh.” Zellman tossed our emptied soda bottles in the garbage, then held up a hand. “Since I’m single, I say hell yes for the diner. There’s gotta be chicks there.” He clamped a hand on Jordan’s shoulder. “Remember, he requested girls for a distraction tonight.”
Jordan’s smile was a little wobbly, just like mine.
It was then I realized Cross had a hold on the back of m
y jeans. He tugged me back into him, a small smile just for me. I loved when he gave me one of those. A little tingle raced through me, and even though I was either buzzed or drunk, I was still feeling it.
Cross tugged me farther back, his one arm going around my shoulder and curling around to rest over the front of me. I reached up, entwining our hands. He spoke over my head, “Then it’s settled.” He angled us out the door, adding behind me now, “Thank you for letting us stay late.”
“Yeah…Bren!”
Cross swung me around. I blinked a few times, focusing because Brock now had two heads. Both were swimming around his body. “Yes?”
“You can have tomorrow off if you work Saturday.”
I knew what that meant. Saturday was bail-bonds day. It was always one of their busiest nights. “Yes! Can I go in the field?”
He chuckled, closing the register. “Maybe. We’ll see.” He dipped his head down again. “Have a good night.”
I felt Cross lift his arm, but then we were moving back out and headed for Jordan’s truck. I asked as soon as we were inside, “Why do we always drive Jordan’s truck? Why not mine? Or yours?”
Jordan slid open the window between us. “Because my truck is the biggest.”
Zellman added, “And because he’s got a setup back here with sleeping bags, cushions, and blankets. It’s like we’ve got our own couch.”
Jordan snorted. “A couch that’s strapped down.”
“Well, yeah.”
Cross started the engine, putting the gear into reverse. “Your boss watched you almost the whole night.”
Aaaand there went my buzz.
I felt it leaving me with a big ol’ thud.
“What? Really?”
Cross nodded, his face getting all somber. “I swiped Trundle’s keys to the building.” He hit the turn signal, glancing at me before easing onto the street. “I think we should find a time no one will be there, help ourselves inside, and take a look at what they’re keeping you away from.”
My stomach did another dip, but I wasn’t sure if I was excited or nervous. But I did say, “Sounds good to me.” But, “I don’t want to wait.”
“I knew you wouldn’t.”
It was decided.
PubTown turned out to be busy, and Zellman recognized a few people, so he and Jordan were happy. After dropping them off, we headed to the house for a change of clothes, then went back to Coug r Lanes.
FROM: Cross
TO: Tazsters
SUBJECT: Bren is drunk. It’s hilarious.
—I’m always the best twin
FROM: Tazsters
TO: Cross
SUBJECT: blank on purpose
Type your message HERE.
Not in the subject line.
—The Best Twin
CROSS
Bren was drunk.
She was the type of drunk where she wasn’t registering she was still drunk, but she was. She was also damn cute about it. She kept flicking her hand over her nose. She’d scrunch up her face afterward and make a little pffting sound. She was as loud as a tiny kitten. Seriously fucking adorable.
I’d been watching her boss the whole time we were bowling. He was older twenties or younger thirties, but the way he was staring at Bren, a boyfriend would start wondering if he had a hard-on for her, too.
He didn’t. I put my arm around her and he hadn’t cared.
He was more interested in scoping out the rest of us.
Bren said he read her file and he made a call to Roussou. So it made sense he’d want to know about us. We were her crew. That shit didn’t stop in high school, not for us.
But all the other stuff she mentioned. Yeah. It was making me worried.
I scoped out a security system while we were there, so we had ski masks on, pulling them down as we left the truck, and darted to the back door. We didn’t do this. We never had, but there were times at Roussou we needed to go somewhere that we probably weren’t welcome. That was the closest we had to breaking and entering. This was a whole new graduation level, but I’d been watching Bren’s boss all night. I’d been scanning the entire building, and I knew we needed more than just Trundle’s key to get in.
Once he sobered up, he would report it missing the next day.
Brock was smart. I saw that, so he’d change everything as soon as possible, not wanting to risk anyone getting in to see whatever they were working on. That meant we had to move fast. We needed to get in and out even before they thought someone would get in and out, and that Brock guy would be watching Bren. We were the last people seen with Trundle. They were hiding something from Bren. We’d be on the short list of who took Trundle’s keys.
So yeah, tonight was our only night as far as I was concerned, but Bren, I had to make sure she didn’t touch anything. I moved into her, my lips to her ears. “We can’t talk in there.”
She nodded, knowing they could have recordings or video rolling.
I pulled her back one last time. “Go to the office door and wait for me. Follow my lead.”
Another nod. Her eyes were wide and staring at me, but she flinched, her hand flicking her nose.
I suppressed a smile, remembering the mask hid my mouth and smiled anyway.
I loved my girl. A seriously cute drunk.
Then we were in.
The back door opened easy enough, but it was the second door I was worried about.
Bren headed for it, waiting to the side as I darted behind the front desk. I watched. Brock used a code to get in so I plugged that in. And I also remembered when he took his papers to the back.
I lifted up the tray and there was a key inside.
I took it, hurrying to the office doors, and inserted it.
It turned.
Now, inside I wasn’t sure what we were walking into, but Bren did.
She bypassed me, going to an alarm system. She coded in a number. The system’s alarm turned green. We were good to go.
The bowling lanes still had their orange neon strips showing with enough light, so we didn’t need extra lighting. The office was different, though. I reached into my pocket, handing Bren a flashlight, and then we were both moving through the rooms.
Bren went inside the first one. She was sweeping over the desk, so I moved to the larger room, and I didn’t need to go anywhere else. I stepped inside the room, my light catching the image of someone on the wall, and I stopped in my tracks.
I hadn’t wanted this to happen, but here we were.
There were three walls set up around the desks, and smack on the left wall was a picture of Bren’s father. Derrick Monroe. He’d lived a hard life. The fights with Channing, Bren’s mom’s cancer, then the drinking. The drinking had been a constant. He looked like a different man when he came to Cain. Softer. Humble. Beat down. But he was a member of the Red Demons now, so how long he could keep that up was anyone’s guess? I’d done my research, just like I always did.
Red Demons came to Roussou, started messing with Channing, and I knew there could be spillage over to us. There had been, but not enough to be too concerned. Then her dad joined up, and my alarms had been going nuts ever since. It’d been a matter of time before this happened, where Bren’s world would cross paths with them. Now I just wanted to know if she’d been hired with the idea of using her to get to her dad, or they brought her in anyway, and were keeping her out of the shitstorm for her own good? How’d that work with Channing reaching out?
I couldn’t tell, but under Derrick Monroe’s picture were Bren’s and Channing’s. His kids.
Jesus.
This. Right here.
This was why they didn’t want Bren inside.
Her picture was on the fucking wall.
So were the rest of us.
Bren would’ve lost it seeing any of our images up there.
They had strings connecting us to Bren. All of Channing’s guys were under his. His woman’s picture. Her brother’s. There were stickies put up with information about each of us. I
f we were affiliated or not. All of us were not Red Demon affiliated, but we were crew affiliated. Wolf Crew. WC was put on Bren’s, mine, Zellman, and Jordan’s stickies. Channing’s guys had New Kings, NK, written next to their names. They even made note of who was also bounty hunters for Channing. And the long string that attached Bren’s dad led to Maxwell Raith.
I knew about Raith.
He was the Red Demons’ President. Smart. Ruthless. Dangerous. But he told Channing that he owed his life to Bren and Channing’s father. Beyond that and that their MC was growing fast, I didn’t know much about him. Maxwell’s picture was center in the middle wall. There were pictures and pictures of men underneath, ones I didn’t know.
I took my phone out, starting to snap pictures when Bren came in.
I had to move fast.
I stopped my phone and moved toward her, blocking her flashlight as I did. I grabbed her arm, my mouth to her ear. “You need to trust me. Let me cover this room. Take as many pictures as you can from the other rooms and go to the truck.”
She tried to pull her arm away. She couldn’t say anything. Neither of us knew if her voice would be recorded and recognized, but she growled under her breath, so slight I hoped it wasn’t caught.
“Please.”
She ripped her arm away but left.
And I could breathe easy again.
I couldn’t waste time. I took as many pictures as possible, getting everything on the board. I noted the guy’s picture in the middle of the right wall, and all the images underneath. There were a lot of images under that guy, but after getting everything, I moved to the table.
Papers were picked up, pictures snapped of them, and put back down exactly as they were first placed.
It took me ten minutes, and I didn’t even like that it was that long.
Bren was finishing in the first office. She came out when I did. I swept my light to the third office, but she shook her head. I didn’t know what that meant, but when she headed for the exit, I went to make sure that office was covered. It was a hangout room. Magazines were left opened. A couple books. A camera. I picked up the camera, turning it on and scrolling through the pictures caught.