Crew Series, #1

by Tijan

  Cross snorted. “Drake was fucking with you.” His eyes slid my way again. “He knows we don’t bring in strays. He wanted to mess with us.”

  Us.

  I swallowed over a knot.

  Me.

  My ex wanted to mess with me, and I remembered all his sniping comments about Cross.

  He wanted to mess with me and Cross.

  I swore. “I’m going to rip his balls off.”

  Jordan and Zellman laughed.

  A faint grin showed at the corner of Cross’ mouth. Some of the air lightened too, but he didn’t say anything.

  “I…” Race looked between us, eyes lingering on me and Cross. He moved back a step, his head lowered, almost in submission. “I wondered, but I didn’t…”

  Cross snapped his gaze back to him, sharpening once more.

  “Wondered?” he bit out.

  That was enough. I stepped forward, my hand touching Cross’ arm lightly. We didn’t need to have untruths dredged up, not yet, not when I wasn’t ready to think about that either.

  I cleared my throat. “If you’re serious about the charity thing—”

  “I am.” His head lifted. “I really am. Tell me the amount, and I’ll call my dad.”

  “That’s for Taz, right?” Jordan spoke up.

  “Yeah.”

  “Then come on, moneybags.” He stepped forward, his arm coming around Race’s shoulder again, but this time it was casual, like they truly were friends. He patted Race on the arm. “Let’s you and me go and find the female Shaw. I’ll help out with this charity thing.”

  He wasn’t giving Race an option. He started walking him right back out, just a little more respectfully than the way he’d dragged him back here, and he winked at me as they went by.

  Zellman watched them go, his hand twisting some of his curls before he turned to us. “Jordan’s got a thing for your sis. I’m announcing it now before it becomes a problem.” He held his hands up. “And don’t go all dark Cross on me now. I won’t take it like that guy. I’ll just pop you in the face.”

  And he would. He’d get beaten up by Cross in the end, but to him it would be worth it.

  I grinned, but I was relieved when that lightened the mood even more. Cross started asking questions, but Zellman wasn’t answering.

  He kept shaking his head, saying, “You have to ask Jordan,” until Jordan himself came back. Alone.

  Jordan gestured over his shoulder. “I left the new guy with Taz. She was cornered by the cheerleaders.” He nodded at Zellman. “Sunday wants to know if you want to hook up tonight.”

  Zellman grunted. “Am I in a crew?” He stopped, squinting at me. “Are you still fighting with her? I thought that ended after the tire thing.”

  “What?”

  “Never mind.” He gave Jordan a thumbs-up. “I’m up, on, and in for whatever’s going down tonight that has to with Sunday and being all sexual.” He was starting to bounce up and down.

  I grimaced at that thought, but remembered the other conversation from study hall. Sharing a look with Cross, I said, “Uh, guys?” I bobbed my head at Cross. “You want to loop them in on what else is going on with Ryerson? The bad one.”

  Jordan and Zellman snapped to attention.

  This was crew business, and after Cross relayed Alex’s latest antics, Jordan cursed.

  “You serious? He’s fucking proclaiming they’re the biggest and baddest?”

  Cross nodded, and then we all grew silent.

  We weren’t saying a word, but I knew what was going on.

  We were the Wolf Crew. We were four, and we were fierce. We didn’t need the numbers other crews took on, but what helped us all gel sometimes didn’t make up for the fact that there were only four of us. If it came down to a war, we’d strap on and step up to the line, and we’d be smart about it. But prevention was always the first step.

  Which meant someone had to talk to Alex. He was a hothead, and the best person to talk to him was Drake, which meant I was right back where I’d been earlier.

  Me talking to him.

  “Fuck.”

  Jordan sighed. “You know it’s the best option.”

  But still.

  I shook my head, shoving my hands into my pockets. “This fucking sucks.”

  Cross stepped close, his shoulder grazing mine. “I’ll go with you.”

  “Ah.” Jordan clipped his head from right to left. “No. Hell no. Not to be a prick here, but that would not be good. We all know how much Drake Ryerson hates you, so I agree with Bren.”

  “You do?” I don’t have to go?

  “You should take your brother.”

  Oh. Double fuck.

  “And we should go now, before anything gets worse.”

  Look at Jordan, being our leader.

  I grimaced, but gave in. “Fine.”

  Jordan and Zellman went to Jordan’s truck, and Cross and I went to my Jeep.

  Tuesday Tits was pretty much the exact opposite of Manny’s. The name itself should’ve given that away. As we drove up to my brother’s bar, a line of motorcycles were parked outside the front door. We pulled into the back alley and found a whole second line of motorcycles parked there too.

  Tuesday Tits catered to a rough crowd—not just my brother’s crew, though they fit in, but a biker gang that frequented Roussou. As we stepped inside, a bunch of guys wearing leather cuts were drinking and playing pool. A few lounged at tables, talking.

  The conversations lulled and all eyes came to us.

  They seemed to sense fresh meat.

  “How’s it going, Bren?” the bartender asked.

  It was just a formality. He didn’t want to know.

  The bartender was one of Channing’s crew members. He wanted the regular customers to know we were hands-off.

  I tipped my head up in greeting, pausing just inside the back door. “He around?”

  He nodded toward the back hallway. “In his office.”

  Jordan and Zellman moved around me, heading to one of the empty pool tables. They knew the policy too. Unless they knew the bikers, they couldn’t talk to them. Extra attention was not helpful, and Jordan’s mouth—that would’ve drawn extra attention.

  My brother’s office door opened, and he stepped out. “I hear my sister’s name?”

  “Yeah.” I headed for him with Cross behind me. “Hey.”

  He frowned at me, then at Jordan and Zellman. “I don’t want you guys here.”

  “I know, but I’m here for a reason.”

  “Why?”

  “I have to go see Drake, crew business.”

  “Crew business? From what I’m told, he’s not crew anymore.”

  “Yeah. That’s the problem.”

  Channing kept looking behind me to where Jordan and Zellman stood. I followed, seeing the reason for his concern. Some of the bikers had congregated nearby. Sometimes this wasn’t a bad thing. Most bikers were fine, but these weren’t. They were from a one-percenter MC. If they targeted Jordan and Zellman to hustle—or as hustlers—there’d be problems. The biker clubs were fiercer than us. There was no line they wouldn’t cross. We co-existed. That was about it, and even that line was shaky.

  But this was one of those areas Channing handled for Roussou while the rest were kept in the dark.

  “Your ex goes to school six hours from here,” Channing said. “I don’t want you driving there.”

  “What?” I turned back to look at him. “Come on. Are you serious?”

  “Chad had to take off. He’s in the same town.” Chad was another of Channing’s crew members. “He can find him and have the talk you need to have.”

  “No.”

  “Yes.”

  Channing went back to watching the bikers. Two of the guys approached Jordan and Zellman. The bartender had paused, looking from them to Channing. He was waiting for a signal. Another door opened from the hallway, and Congo, another member of Channing’s crew, came down.

  He stopped right next to Channing.
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br />   Congo might’ve been short, but he was muscular, and he wasn’t someone to mess with. He was like a bald mini bodybuilder.

  “Yes, Bren,” Channing repeated, cursing under his breath as he moved around me.

  The bikers were now talking to Jordan, holding out a beer and gesturing to the pool table.

  My brother started for them, then turned around and flung a hand toward me. “Get her out of here. Now.” Then he was back to closing in fast on the pool table.

  I looked over in time to see his crew member lock the register.

  Congo started forward, a metal bar in his hand. Where he’d gotten that, I had no clue. He didn’t have it when he walked down the hallway.

  “Shit.” Cross moved closer to me. “Maybe you should go?”

  I threw him an incredulous look. This was my crew, and my brother. I wasn’t moving.

  I reached for my knife, tucked against my body under my shirt. I didn’t pull it out. My hand was there, just in case.

  “Hey, fellas.” Channing walked up and threw an arm around Jordan’s shoulders. He was an inch shorter than, but he yanked him down like he was going to put him in a headlock. He maneuvered him back behind the table, taking his pool stick at the same time. “If you’ll excuse me,” he said to the bikers. “I gotta kick these minors out of here.” He shoved Jordan toward us. “You heard it, kid. Beat it.”

  Jordan took a couple steps, frowning at us and then my brother.

  Zellman stayed right next to him.

  “We were going to play a game of pool.” One of the bikers picked up the pool cue Zellman had left behind. He had a scar that went down the entire side of his face. “They look like they have cash to burn. You don’t mind, do you?”

  Channing stood directly between us and them, but more of the bikers had started to take notice. A few moved closer. My brother held his hands up. His voice came out smooth and almost cheerful, but his jaw clenched.

  “I got a fine recently for underage kids. Sorry, guys. You’re going to have to play somewhere else.”

  The biker with the pool cue pointed it at Jordan. “How about it? You guys want to go somewhere else to play?”

  Channing’s shoulders tightened. “Somewhere in Frisco then.”

  Not Manny’s.

  Not in Roussou.

  That was my brother’s message.

  I waited to see their reaction, but Chan didn’t. He turned his back, and as soon as he did, his whole nonchalant façade dropped. His mouth set in a furious line.

  Jordan took a step backward, seeing it.

  Channing would beat his ass if he didn’t leave.

  Jordan cleared his throat. “Nah. Maybe next time. I think we got what we wanted.” He looked at me. “Right? You’re off the hook tonight?”

  He widened his eyes dramatically.

  I got his message too. “Oh yeah.” I smiled at my brother. “I’ll see you on Monday?”

  I didn’t wait for Channing’s response. With Cross, Jordan, and Zellman behind me, I hurried out of there, veering right in the alley, past a couple more of Channing’s crew members and my cousin, Scratch. I recognized Moose. He was bald like Congo, but tall, with tattoos all over his head and neck. I didn’t recognize the other guy.

  Scratch went right for me, not breaking stride. “Hey, little cousin!”

  I had two seconds before he caught me in his arms and half-bounced me in the air.

  Channing was a fighting machine, and he kept his body toned, but Scratch was almost as tough. He was the same age as Channing. They’d grown up together like brothers, except Scratch had been in the foster system. Well, to be more accurate, he’d spent his life everywhere, bouncing from his mom’s house to ours, then to other people’s. He and our half-brother had a similar upbringing, but Max was barely allowed to see us. His biological mom hated us, hated Roussou, hated our dad. It’d been a contentious life and because of it I barely knew Max. But for both he and our cousin, how they grew up had been for the best.

  I knew Scratch said it helped mold him into who he was today.

  “Hey, Scratch.” I couldn’t encourage him. If I did, he’d keep jostling me around. He liked to pick on me. I endured it as long as I could so he’d feel loved, but usually it wasn’t long before he got a good elbow to the stomach, neck, or junk. If he picked on me too much, the junk shot came quick and had some extra oomph to it.

  He heard the warning in my voice and dropped me onto my feet almost right away. His hands went to my shoulders.

  “What are you doing here? What are you up to?”

  Moose and the other guy waited next to him.

  “You getting in trouble already?” Moose asked.

  Feeling Scratch’s fingers tighten on my shoulder, I moved to dislodge his hold. He stepped back like it’d been his decision to release me.

  He gave me a half-smirk. “Should we expect your brother to be in a mood?”

  Moose laughed. The other one remained impassive.

  Cross moved forward, falling in line next to me.

  Moose greeted, “Cross.”

  “Moose.”

  My cousin and the silent guy nodded to him. Cross returned the greeting.

  “He should be fine,” I told Scratch. “It was crew stuff.”

  Moose and the other guy’s gaze sharpened.

  “Crew stuff?” Moose echoed.

  “You’re in trouble?” Scratch asked.

  I shook my head. “No. Ask him. It’s nothing big.”

  Moose and the other guy shared a look, then headed for the bar. My cousin stayed, frowning at me.

  “What’s going on?” His eyes narrowed.

  “Talk to my brother.”

  “I am your brother.”

  Yeah. Yeah, he was. Sometimes I forgot he considered himself like a brother to me. He’d been around even less than Channing, but he was right. In some weird way, they’d both tried to look after me when they could, or when they remembered.

  It got confusing to me sometimes.

  I held up my keys. “It’s crew stuff. Channing will tell you.”

  Scratch looked at Cross. “You’re watching out for her?”

  Cross rubbed a hand over his face. “I’m watching out for her as much as she’ll let me. Let’s put it that way.”

  “Are we going or what?” Jordan asked. Zellman waited with him.

  Cross waved them on. “We’ll be behind you. Go.”

  With a wave out the window, Jordan peeled out. Cross and I moved toward my Jeep.

  Scratch had opened the door to the bar, but he turned again. “Be safe, little Monroe,” he hollered. “Got that?”

  I held up an arm in an absentminded wave, getting inside the car. “See you later, Scratch. Give my brother hell for me.”

  He grinned at us again. “I don’t have to. You do that enough!”

  I had the keys in the ignition when a familiar Taurus pulled up behind us.

  “What the fuck?” Cross leaned forward, peering ahead.

  It was Taz. We watched as she got out, opened the back door, and pulled out a pink tote filled with papers and other items.

  “What is she doing?” I groaned.

  “Are those stuffed animals?”

  Cross was asking me. I had no clue. I shrugged, and as if we had rehearsed our move, we both reached for our door handle at the same time. We got out on opposite sides of my Jeep just as she walked past. Seeing us, Taz jumped and shrieked, and half of the tote’s contents fell to the ground.

  “AGH!” She glared at us for a heartbeat before bending down to scoop up the things. “What are you doing here?! I almost had a heart attack. Announce yourself. Let me know when you’re in…” Her hand thrust out, but then she looked, and her voice faded. “When you’re in your Jeep.”

  A paper rolled past Cross, and he stepped on it to stop it. Before he grabbed it, he glared back at his sister. “Unlike you, we have reason to be here. What are you doing?”

  She sent us a scathing look before she finished grabb
ing the rest of her stuff. There were books, two stuffed animals, lots of papers. I saw a yearbook and a pom-pom. She grabbed a fistful of the papers and gestured to Tuesday Tits’ back door.

  “I was going in there to get a sponsor—one that’s never been gotten before.”

  Cross glowered, thrusting one of his hands toward the sign on the door. Tuesday Tits’ Back Entrance. A black hole had been scribbled underneath, with arrows scratched in the wood, pointing to it.

  “The name alone should tell you you’re not allowed here!” He was half-shouting.

  “This is for the thing you asked me to help with? That charity thing? Did Jordan not take Race Ryerson over to you? He should’ve given you enough money. That’s what he said.”

  She paused. Her mouth fell open, then snapped shut. She raised a hand, smoothing down some of her hair. “Yes. I mean, yes he did, and that’s more than enough money. Yeah.” She left the tote on the ground and stood upright again, smoothing out her clothes. “Have you—I mean, I might’ve thought maybe I could get more, you know?”

  I could only lift my eyebrows at that.

  She was here, at my brother’s bar—his very rough and very dangerous bar—to get more.

  Cross groaned, his head falling back, and I could see him rolling his eyes. “Are you fucking kidding me?” He grasped his hair, holding on a second. “Oh my God, Taz. This is so fucking dangerous for you to come here—”

  “And alone,” I added.

  His voice raised. “And alone! You CAME ALONE!”

  I gestured to the back door. “Look, whatever you’re doing, it’ll have to be handled later. You can’t go in there.”

  “What?” Her mouth fell open. “Why not?”

  Because it was dangerous, like Cross had just yelled at her, but at the moment it really was. Channing would be yelling at me the same way if he came out and saw we were still here.

  “We have to go, Taz. I mean it.”

  “But.” She looked at all her stuff, at the animals (why the hell she had animals was beyond me), the yearbooks, and groaned. “I had a plan. It was a whole big thing. There was a presentation. I had props. I was going to play a song on the radio. I had it all worked out.”