Crew Page 13

  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 grabbing 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."

  She sniffled, still gazing at her stuff.

  Ah. Shiiit.

  Cross and I looked at each other.

  This wasn't really about getting a donation. I mean, it was, but there was more going on here. More with her, more with--I was guessing--Sunday Barnes and all the girls Taz was trying to impress. And if I dared wonder, maybe some of it was about us too.

  I was going to regret this. I knew that, but I still heard myself saying, "Look, if you still need a donation from Tuesday Tits, I'll get it for you."

  She looked up, her eyes wide and hopeful.

  "But not now." I held my hand up. "And no one, I mean no one, can know I got it for you."

  Cross glanced sideways at me.

  I caught the small grin. He was wondering how their donation would even be approved. Those sponsored ads have huge posters printed out. Tuesday Tits? Not really a brand an educational place would embrace.

  But that was a different problem for another day.

  She looked ready to argue, so I added, "A rough crowd hangs out here."

  "But... Okay. Fine." She bent back down to get everything scooped up and stood up with the tote in her arms. "I still would like help with sponsors. Race's dad is a big sponsor, but he admitted at the end that we might no
t be able to count on him."

  What a shocker.

  All this talk of sponsors and what that led to, for an event, with ads--it wasn't what I was used to.

  She was talking like one of those girls, like a Sunday or a Monica, or... I had to admit, like a Taz. Because she was one of them, whether she was trying to forge her own path or not. She was normal. I was the outsider to that kind of life.

  Jordan's truck roared up behind us, and Taz groaned. "Are you serious? Do they have to be here for this?"

  I didn't trust Taz.

  Even if I got her to leave now, if I didn't come through with the donation, I had a feeling she would come on her own--and that might be worse than things were in there now.

  "Hold on." I pulled out my phone and leaned back in my seat, dialing the bar.

  A moment later I heard, "Tuesday Tits! Tonight is $2 Friday Night Titquila Shots."

  It was Moose this time. "Moose."

  "Bren? You still here?" He didn't let me answer. "You want your big bro again?"

  "No. Uh, can I talk to Scratch instead?"

  "Hold on."

  The line was quiet, then I heard a beep and my cousin's voice came over. "You forget something?"

  "Hey." Taz was watching me intently, so I turned around. "Cross' sister showed up. She's asking for donations--"

  "Sponsors," Taz corrected.

  "Sponsors for some charity thing. I don't trust her to let me ask Channing later. I think she'll try again on her own."

  "Hey!"

  I ignored her. "I was wondering if you guys wanted to give some money, and if you do, can you come outside right now so we can get this done?"

  "Oh." He paused a beat. "You know, we've never done that, except for a bike rally or something. Yeah, I'd be interested in that. It's for charity?"

  "It's for charity, right?" I asked Taz.

  She nodded. "The children's hospital."

  Cross started laughing.

  I frowned. "We have a children's hospital?" The hospital we did have was crap. Most didn't even consider Roussou to have a hospital. Sane people went to the one in Fallen Crest.

  She hit her brother on the shoulder. "Yes. Well, it's two hours away and in a different town, but yes."

  I spoke into the phone. "The children's hospital that's a couple hours away."

  "Yeah, I heard you. I'm heading out right now." I heard a thud, then the line went flat.

  "He's coming out."

  Taz's eyes widened, and the excitement was building. She rolled back and forth on her heels.

  It wasn't long until my cousin appeared. He'd been wearing a muscle shirt going in, but he'd put on a short-sleeved Tuesday Tits T-shirt. Both Channing and Scratch wore whatever they wanted to work. Sometimes they looked professional. Other times they looked like regular customers, and sometimes they looked like the type of customers who never went home. He'd combed his hair back too, but his eyes were twinkling at us, and I knew some of this was for Taz's benefit.

  She was gawking, checking out Scratch's tattoos. He and my brother were both covered in them.

  "Long time no see!" Scratch winked at me. He leaned in and whispered, "There's shit going down inside. You need to get out of here five minutes ago."

  I nodded, murmuring back, "We will."

  He looked at me for another moment, making sure I knew he was serious, then turned. He had Taz eating out of his hand within seconds. She was almost giggling and blushing. Cross looked ready to lose his lunch a couple times, and so did Jordan, who'd gotten out of his truck and come to stand next to me. His arms were folded over his chest, and they stayed like that until Scratch pulled out his checkbook.

  Jordan grunted, touching my shoulder lightly. "We saw some different bikers headed here when we came back." And as if on command, a couple bikes roared past the alley, followed by a couple more. Then three more.

  "I know."

  My chest had tightened with the first warning. It was hard to breathe now.

  Scratch straightened, check in hand. When a few of the bikers came to the alley, looking down at us, Scratch shoved it into my hand. "Time to go, Bren."

  "Wait. What about a receipt?"

  "Get her the fuck away from here," Scratch said under his breath.

  Jordan moved ahead of Taz, saying, "We'll give it to him later."

  "But, my car--"

  "We'll come back for it later." His hands found her shoulders, and he began walking her backward, all the way to his truck.

  The bikers watched us. They didn't approach.

  Cross and I were almost to my Jeep, but I paused a few feet away. "You need backup?"

  Scratch waved us on. "Just go. Your brother usually gets it handled. We'll be fine."

  Cross glanced to me, but I did as my cousin instructed. We drove to the end of the block and circled around with Jordan's truck behind us. Zellman had jumped into the cab, and I could see Taz's hands in the air. The pink tote sat on her lap. A stuffed flamingo sat on top, and she had to keep moving to see around it.

  Half the bikers were still outside. Another four joined them.

  Cross said quietly, "That's an entire motorcycle club."

  My mouth was dry. "I know."

  "Scratch said they'd be okay?"

  I didn't know what to say. So far my brother and cousin hadn't needed to wade in against an MC, but this group usually came to party or relax. They were on edge today.

  I didn't have a good feeling.

  I turned left on the road, away from them. And when we got to the main street through Roussou, I turned right.

  We were going to Manny's.

  Cross got on the phone, relaying the plan to Jordan and Zellman.

  Though, to be honest, there wasn't much of a plan. I was just going to see Heather. If Channing was in trouble, besides myself and his crew, she was the only other person I knew to reach out to. I didn't know what she could do, but she might at least know what to do or not to do. I trusted her. If she said not to be worried, I wouldn't, but I had a bad enough feeling in my gut to go the extra mile and ask her opinion.

  Heather's house was behind Manny's, so I parked in the back. Jordan pulled in behind me, and as everyone got out, I said to Cross, "Grab your sister and take her into Manny's. See if Heather is there."

  "I need to get my car," I heard Taz saying. "What if those bikers trash it? Mom will be so mad, Cross."

  I headed up to the front porch of Heather's house and knocked once on the screen. Sometimes Heather's brother was here, sometimes he wasn't. I didn't hear anyone inside, but the front door was open, and the screen door wasn't locked. I rattled on it again.

  "Heather! Are you in there?"

  A door slammed shut behind me, and I whirled.

  It was Brandon, Heather's brother, holding a trash bag and standing at the back door of Manny's.

  "She's in here," he yelled. "What's going on?" Brandon was older than Heather and Channing, but he still looked young. He was probably close to his thirties.

  "I just gotta ask her something."

  "Okay." He waved over his shoulder, dropping the trash at the same time. "You want me to send her out?" He frowned, staring at me a little harder. "Is this about crew stuff?"

  Brandon wasn't crew. Neither was Heather, but they knew enough to be wary.

  "Just something I have to ask her. That's all."

  Brandon nodded. "Wait five minutes. Every ten minutes she gets all pissy and explodes." He lifted both his shoulders up in a helpless gesture. "All the sugar is making her extra cranky."

  "I heard that!" came from inside.

  He rolled his eyes and opened the door behind him again. "I know. I meant for you to hear that."

  Heather came out as her brother went inside, her blonde hair pulled up into a messy bun, with the bottom half braided. Reaching for her pocket, she cursed and plopped down on one of the lounge chairs around a bonfire pit. She threw a leg up on the pit, exposing a good amount of her skin through the tears in her jeans as she lounged b
ack.

  Zellman groaned. "Goddamn."

  "Really?" I stared at him. "She's practically my sister-in-law."

  That was Heather. As long as I could remember, exuded this sexiness, whether she meant to or not. It was just her.

  He just shook his head. "Goddamn."

  "Bren." Heather patted her pockets again, then groaned herself. She motioned me over. "Your friend is accosting my brother right now. Should I know the reason?"

  I went over, but didn't sit across from her. Heather still made me uncomfortable.

  "Just wait. She's going to ask you too."

  Heather grunted before tapping the armrest on her chair. "Okay. So. What's up? It's not normal for you to come look for me. Willingly."

  Jordan and Zellman sat down. Both chuckled at what she said.

  I shot them a look. They shut up.

  Then I sat down. "An MC showed up at Tuesday Tits--like, the whole group. They didn't look like they were there just to party."

  "Shit." She stood up, her hands patting her pockets again as she went inside. "I'll be right back."

  Jordan was watching her go. "What's with the hand stuff?"

  "She quit smoking. It's been a lifetime habit."

  "Ah." He nodded, knowingly. "I had an uncle who smoked all his life, until he was in his sixties."

  "What happened?" Zellman asked.

  Jordan didn't blink. "He got Parkinson's and burned the house down trying to light a cigarette."

  "Man. I'm sorry. He quit after that?"

  "Nah. He died." Jordan added, "From the fire."

  Zellman and I stared at him, but there were no words. Then we all heard Taz's voice inside. Maybe it was the catalyst or maybe it was because I heard Heather snipe at her to "chill," but for whatever reason, I felt calmer.

  Heather wasn't like Channing.

  If I needed to know something for his safety, she would tell me. That was one thing--she never minced words. She didn't seem to feel I needed protecting and shielding. She knew I had a crew, and it was a good crew. She would tell me if we needed to do something, so that issue moved more to the back of my mind.

  It wasn't long until Heather came back. She waved her phone at me before sitting back down.

  "It sounds like they have it under control. There was a little hiccup, but I have someone who's going to call me if I need to be worried. So, I guess stay tuned?" Her grin was lopsided. "Sorry. I know you were worried."

  "I just need to know if we have to go in to help them. That's all."

  She shook her head, pulling her eyebrows together. "No. That'd make Chan even more worried. He'd call more of his guys, but I'll let you know what's going on."