by Tijan
And my last one. “I also heard a rumor that Alex Ryerson is completely fine. He’s just sleeping off his drunk in the tank.”
I waited. Watching. Studying.
Her eyes flared. Her mouth dropped, just a bit, but it was enough.
I swept my gaze over the rest of the station. Most were watching and listening, but only one reacted—a guy in the back. He snapped his eyes to mine, then disappeared into a side hallway.
I looked at Channing to see if he’d been watching him too. He had.
As we left, Channing said softly, “What was that about?”
“Pulling a string. You know who that cop was in the back?”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
“You think you could get his phone, see who he called?”
His eyes flashed. “Why?”
I stepped outside. “I want to see if I pulled the right string.”
His gaze didn’t move from me, only intensifying. “I’m thinking we need to have a long discussion tonight.”
That was a given, but a crowd had formed outside. Not around us or me, but around the two guys that had come with Channing. Or one of them, to be specific. And it wasn’t just Roussou people, but also Fallen Crusties. Zeke Allen looked like he was pissing himself.
“Bren!”
Cross.
I picked up my pace, going to him.
The famous guy yelled over the crowd, “Channing.”
My brother’s hand was on the small of my back. “I know,” he called. “Come to the warehouse.”
The guy nodded, going back to signing an autograph.
But Cross was in front of me by then, and his arms were around me as he lifted me in the air. Everything—all the strategizing, all the worrying—all of it was gone in that instant. It was only Cross and me, and I didn’t want to let go.
“Shit,” he gasped, peppering me with kisses. “I was so worried. I lost it. Totally fucking lost it. I could’ve killed someone.”
If that was supposed to scare me, it had the opposite effect. I just hugged him harder. Then Jordan and Zellman plucked me out of Cross’ arms to hug me, one by one. Then came Taz and Race.
I whispered to him, “They told me Alex was dead.”
He jerked backward. “What?!”
“You haven’t heard?”
“No. But—what?”
I patted his arm. “Find out. We have to talk later.”
He nodded before stepping back, already pulling out his phone. His hand in Taz’s, he led her to his vehicle.
Tabatha. Sunday.
Then came Moose, Lincoln, Congo, and Chad. A truck pulled up, and rather than find a parking spot, it just stopped, and the driver ran out, coming around the front to pick me up. Scratch.
“Heya, cousin.” He swung me around. “I heard you been starting trouble.” He set me down, grinning, and smoothed my hair. “Why am I not surprised?”
I laughed, pulling back and softly punching his shoulder. “You just got here? Slacker.”
He barked out a laugh, then spoke over my shoulder. “Heather called. She’s holding down the fort, but wants to know the plan.”
Channing stepped up beside me. “We’re going to meet at the warehouse, but I need a moment with Bren and her crew alone.”
“Got it. I’ll let her know. She’ll meet us there.”
Scratch headed back to his truck, and Channing bent down. “I’ll put Lincoln on the guy, but do me a favor,” he said softly. “Meet me at the office before we go to the warehouse. I want to know everything that’s going on before I step inside that warehouse.”
I nodded as Cross took my hand.
No one said a word.
I was out. Now it was time to regroup, make a plan, and execute.
Our enemy struck us down.
We rallied.
Now we were off to defeat them, conquer, win.
I wanted to think that was our next course of action, but something—a nagging something in the back of my mind—was telling me otherwise.
In a way, what they did was simple, though it appeared complex. Distract, then throw a ton of shit at us to keep us distracted. Then move in. Sell drugs. Keep the profits going. But in another way, it wasn’t simple at all. It was actually very dumb because they were banking on no one figuring it out. And they were banking on all those different factors they’d used as a distraction to go away.
They weren’t going to go away.
Halfway to Roussou, a text came in.
Race: Alex is fine. He’s at the hospital.
I was right. They were told to arrest me. At least one person inside the department knew this was a setup and was acting on outside orders. We needed to find who that was.
A second text came in.
Channing: We know who that cop called. Change of plans. You and your crew go home. Lock up. Be safe. We’re taking over.
I wanted to curse, throw something, argue; but I did none of that. In a way, Channing was right, and I knew it. I knew my role. I was in high school, soon graduating, and I still hadn’t decided what my future would look like.
Once I figured out this whole mess had to do with drugs, I knew I was out of play. I knew my brother would step in, and I knew he would handle it. He always did. He’s the one who had contacts inside the Roussou Police Department. He had contacts everywhere. Becoming a fucking great bounty hunter in such a short time said a lot. He wasn’t just good; he had relationships.
But Alex, Drake. Those were our problems.
Jordan was turning onto the road leading to Channing’s office when I told him the change of plans.
“What?” Z twisted around. “No way. We helped his crew with the Demons. He can help us this time. Come on. This is our fight.”
But it wasn’t.
I shook my head. “Do you actually want to wade into that world? Drugs? Territory war? I don’t. I want to remain a high school student, worrying about what I’m going to do next year. They told me Alex was dead. They pointed guns at me. They came at me in SWAT gear. I don’t want that life, at least not yet.”
Not yet.
Jesus.
Wasn’t that the key phrase here.
“Then we don’t,” Jordan said. “It’s your call. Your brother. Your arrest. We do what you want.”
What I wanted…
What did I want?
My hand brushed over my dress—more than a little worse for the wear now—and I wrinkled my nose. “I want to change clothes. I want to shower. I want to do simple shit.”
I didn’t want to be crew right now. And I hoped they didn’t think less of me, but I was tired. Plain and simple, I was just tired.
“Then that’s what we’ll do,” Jordan confirmed.
Zellman started to say something, but there was a movement and he grunted. “Ooomph. Yeah, Bren. Yeah. Simple shit.”
We went to my house. Cross went with me to the bedroom to make sure I was okay. There were hugs, kisses. He kept wanting to make sure I was okay. We might’ve fallen to the bed, ignoring the others in the house. But when the doorbell rang, Cross cursed and pulled away.
I heard a lot of footsteps, Taz’s voice filtered down the hallway to us.
Cross groaned, pushing up and off of me. “I have a feeling everyone’s coming over here. I’ll deal with them.” He paused, looking down at me. “Are you okay?”
I touched his face, my palm smoothing over his cheek. “I will be.”
His eyes clouded over. “You sure?”
I nodded. “I’m sure.”
Straightening his shirt, he shot me a dark and rueful look. I found myself grinning as he pulled the door open and headed out.
I stopped listening after that and went into the bathroom.
I did want a shower, but I mostly wanted to clean off the feel of those zip ties, those accusations, that hallway, seeing Alex slump down.
I wanted to wash away that image.
I stepped under the shower, and once that water hit me, I lost it. Head buried in my
hands, water pounding down on me, I almost fell apart.
But I didn’t.
Stay strong, Bren.
I heard my mother whispering in my ear, and I stopped myself. I just stopped.
I took a breath and then washed and stepped out.
The water was still going. I was reaching back to turn it off, but again, I just stopped.
Cross was standing inside the door, his eyes heated. His jaw clenched.
My body started trembling, reacting to the need I saw from him. It rose up, swiftly, almost threatening to choke me.
I thought I fell apart in the shower, but this—it didn’t compare to this.
I needed him. Being arrested, hearing those words about Alex, being interrogated, and then walking out—all of it came back to me, pounding me one memory at a time, but there was a surge of renewal. I was fine. I would be fine. They couldn’t destroy me and here Cross was. I saw all of it in him, a mirror reflection. And whoever was in the house, be damned. Forget them.
In this moment, it was Cross and I.
I dropped my hand and he started for me. Stark hunger flaring in him, then he was in front of me. His hand curved around my waist. He stepped in, his head bending. His mouth grazed over my shoulder, and I trembled again. A full-body shiver because that felt so fucking good.
He murmured there, “I couldn’t—I need this.”
I was nodding, already relaying how I needed him too even before he finished.
“—I need you,” he finished, gutting out.
I reached up, grasping the back of his head, and I lifted his mouth to mine.
Then I didn’t need anything else. His mouth opened over mine, and all was gone.
Moving into the shower, he was soaked in an instant.
He pushed me against the wall and I was pulling at his shirt as he was kicking off his jeans. Everything was tossed out until it was just him, just me, and then he was lifting me up. My legs were around his waist.
Mouth on mouth.
This moment, it was just us.
No one else existed.
Nothing else existed.
There’d been no arrest.
There’d been no police station.
We were wiping it all away.
Him. Me. And then he was inside me, and we both stilled from the contact.
He groaned, his mouth moving to my throat. “I love you so much.”
I wound my arms tighter around him. I couldn’t talk. My throat was full with emotion, so I moved my hips. His hands grasped under my thighs, and he began to move with me. We rode each other until both of us came, and even then, I didn’t want to release him.
“Cross,” I whispered, not able to speak again.
His head was buried into my neck and shoulder. He shook it, just hugging me to him. “Not yet. God. Not yet.”
We stayed.
Long after the water was turned off, long after both our bodies grew cold, long after the air began to dry us.
We stayed.
Then we heard the doorbell ring, and I knew the world had come back to us.
Groaning, Cross let me back down, and without speaking, we both dried and dressed. I was combing my fingers through my hair as we walked out into the hallway.
I could hear Tabatha’s voice and Sunday’s laugh. Race. The gang was here. All of them.
I headed for the door. Cross was right behind me, then I opened it and heard Cross swear behind me.
Blaise stood there. A few steps back stood Zeke, with more of them waiting in vehicles on the street. I saw a few girls, but mostly the same guys we had fought with before.
Cross stepped around me, taking point. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Just wait.” Blaise stepped back, his hands in the air. “Wait. Please.”
Zeke jerked forward.
“You take one more goddamn step, and I’m coming out there to remove your head from your body,” Cross said.
Blaise turned. “Stop. I believe him.”
Zeke lowered his head. “I believe him too. Doesn’t mean I’m leaving my best friend up there alone.”
I cocked my head.
Zeke had a submissive air to him, but he was still defiant. I believed him. If Cross took a step out, Zeke would be coming in, no matter how much of a beatdown he was certain to get. He was loyal. I hadn’t seen that one coming.
“Look. Let me talk, okay? Just a minute.” Blaise still had his hands in the air. He lowered them and shifted to look behind us, into the house, but Cross moved to block him. “Okay. Okay. I didn’t know. Okay? I didn’t know about who you were, who—” He jerked his head up, indicating behind us. “About her. I had no clue.”
Cross was rigid, tension seeping from every pore.
I moved closer, leaning against him, and I placed my hand on his back. He sucked in a breath, releasing it slowly. Some of the tension left him. Some. Not enough.
But he was listening.
Blaise spoke faster, wetting his lips. “I was always told I was an only kid, that my dad was some jackass who didn’t give a shit about me. I had no clue. Honestly. Then my folks are suddenly getting a divorce. We’re moving back here where my mom grew up, and she’s got some random dude coming around.”
Cross growled.
“No offense, but can you see it from my point of view? My mom just divorced my dad. My dad doesn’t give one iota of caring any-fucking-thing about me anymore, and this new guy is coming in and acting all fatherly. It pissed me the fuck off. Who’s this guy? I wasn’t told shit. Nothing. Nada. Then I know Zeke from way back. We reconnect. That’s great and all. My old best friend is still here, so things aren’t great, but they’re decent, and then bam. He tells me about the crews in Roussou. You guys blew up some of our buddies’ cars out of nowhere—”
“You sent two of your assholes to burn our school down.”
Zeke took two steps to the side—not toward us, but onto the lawn for a better vantage point. “We really weren’t behind that. Swear to pussy. We weren’t. Those two assholes don’t go to our school. We don’t even know who they are. You guys told us about them. That was the first we’d heard about it. So yeah, we beat your boy down, but we knew you were close by. We knew you’d intervene. We wouldn’t get too bad on him. That’s what we were thinking, and it worked. You guys showed up. You beat our asses. And then that was going to be it for us. You exploded our cars. We beat your boy down. It was done, as far as we were concerned.”
“Then you guys came to our school,” Blaise said.
Zeke made a frustrated sound. “Yeah. I mean, fine. You show up at our school? Our campus? Our girls are there? You bet your fucking ass we’re going to fight. You brought the fight to us, man.”
“We weren’t there to fight,” Cross said.
I still hadn’t said a word. This was between Cross and his brother, but I wanted to tell them we were there to see Blaise. I didn’t. I couldn’t. That was Cross’ decision, but a part of me yearned to shout it out.
Family was precious. Fuck. All the shit I gave Channing, and he was right now out there, fighting for me.
I bit back tears, knowing I had to make things right with him. All the anger from growing up, that was done. It was time to start new. Clean slate. I pressed my hand harder against Cross’ back because I wanted the same for him.
“What’s going on?”
I whirled. Z was there, and his eyes got wide seeing who was at the door. “Holy—”
I was at him in two steps. My hand clamped over his mouth. “Stop. Don’t say a word.” I looked over his shoulder, to the kitchen, but everyone was outside. My shoulders sagged in relief. If Taz came in, Cross would go nuts, and that wouldn’t be good.
I motioned behind him. “Go out there. Shut the door. Act fucking normal.”
“But—” He pointed over my shoulder.
“I know. Do what I say. Trust me.”
“Bren!”
“Trust, fucker.”
His eyes flicked upwards. “Trust, m
y ass.”
But he went, and he shut the door, and I saw how he rolled his shoulders back. He was trying, but I knew Jordan would see through his act.
A second later, Jordan opened that patio door, coming in, and I sighed. There was nothing I could do right now, so as Jordan came over, I let him see who was standing on our doorstep.
Unlike Z, Jordan just pressed his mouth in a firm line and moved behind me. We went back, ready to have Cross’ back if he needed us.
He needed us. I could tell. I moved behind him again, my hand on his back, moving up between his shoulder blades.
He twitched, settling back into my touch.
“I’m just saying, I was told a Roussou crew was out front, beating my best friend, and I’m hauling ass out there. Then I saw you, I really saw, and—” Blaise stopped, shaking his head. “—my world was fucking rocked.” He looked down. “People not looking for a connection, might not see it. People look similar all the time, but you? Me? Not like this. I tried ignoring it. I did. No fucking way was I related to some Roussou scum.”
“Fuck’s sakes,” Jordan muttered over my head.
Blaise glanced up. “Sorry, but that’s how I was feeling. I thought you were a cousin or something. My mom’s from here. She’s all about secrets. Maybe she had family she didn’t tell me about. Then her boyfriend was around more and more. He was moving in, and he talked about his kids. Cross. Tasmin. I clued in, asked Zeke the names of the crew he was beefing with, and that didn’t seem like a coincidence. Let’s just say my mom and I had a ‘come to Jesus’ moment one night. She spilled everything, and now here I am, learning my real dad does actually give a shit about me, I don’t have to feel guilty about hating the asshole who bankrolled me all my life, and I got siblings. Twins too. Jesus. Are you serious? Fucking twins, and they’re my age.” He shifted backward and motioned to Cross with a jerking motion. “There you go. We’re caught up.”