Always Crew (Crew Series Book 3) Page 17

  I felt myself loosening up, though he was right. Talk like this had never been a staple with me and the guys. I wasn’t sure why, but it felt kinda nice being able to ask him. “So, what’s up with you and Tabatha then?”

  He groaned, half laughing. His head ducked all the way down until he lifted once more. “Damn. I walked into that one, huh?”

  I raised my eyebrows. Waiting.

  He sighed, shaking his head. “I have no clue. I’m still reeling about what she did. The whole thing.”

  “Did she actually sleep with him?”

  He shook his head again. “I have no clue. I can’t bring myself to ask, and I should. Makes me feel like a coward. But the thought—just the thought of any of it… Why didn’t she come to us for help? We could’ve done something. Anything. Her having to do what she did, that shouldn’t have even been on the plate.”

  “Did Cross tell you what his brother told him?”

  Jordan nodded, a hard laugh ripping from him. “That fuck’s back in the frat house. And what? We’re going to fight an entire frat house, to get them to kick someone out? That’s not what we do. We handle ourselves. That’s what we do, but Tab—she didn’t even come to us. She didn’t come to me.”

  “I know.”

  He raised a hand, rubbing at his forehead. “The funny thing is that at the end of this, I think Tab and I are done. She made that decision, and she’s not asked to come back to me, but Zellman?” He nodded his head upwards, toward the house. “He’s up there fucking some girl. He’s been out, making friends everywhere, and he’s the one I bet is going to get back with his girl.”

  Wait. What?

  “Sunday?”

  He nodded. “He calls her every night.”

  I leaned forward, my mouth falling open. “Every night?”

  “Almost every night, or a text just to check in. He’s doing it for me, asking about Tabatha, but he’s asking about her, too. The baby. She still hasn’t given birth.”

  Right.

  Drake’s kid.

  My ex’s kid. My ex who was in prison, and to our knowledge, is still alive. And that caused my stomach to clench.

  “So, Sunday and Zellman, huh?”

  He nodded. “Yep. I think so.”

  I squinted at him, cocking my head to the side. “A hundred bucks says they don’t.”

  Jordan’s head whipped back to mine, his eyes widening. “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  But his grin was slowly spreading. “You’re on, because I know my boy, and he’s going to end up married to her.”

  I groaned. “Let’s hope not.”

  He laughed, then tipped his chin up toward me. “Heading to work?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You nervous?”

  “Yeah.”

  He chuckled while standing just as I did. We both grabbed our coffees. “You’ll be fine, Bren. You always are. You’re our stronghold, you know.”

  Cross mentioned something similar, but I never really considered it. I didn’t know what to think of that, to be honest, so I just grinned, ducking my head, and we went back inside. Jordan put his coffee away, then headed back to his room. I was pouring my own coffee into a travel mug when I heard more footsteps coming from the living area.

  “Hey.”

  It was Cross, and he was yawning. Tired lines were around his eyes, his hair was messed up, what there was to actually be messed up, and he was only wearing boxers. His chest was stark and more lean than normal. Jesus. I loved him. I slept with him. I was now living with him, but I forgot sometimes how hot he was. He was reaching for the coffee when he caught me checking him out.

  He smirked. “Trust me, you don’t have time for round five, unless you want to be late for work.”

  I flushed, the back of my neck getting warm. “Shut up.”

  He laughed.

  I stepped away, but he hooked a finger in my pants and pulled me to him. My back hit his chest and he leaned forward, catching my ear. His finger moved around to the front and dipped inside there, too. “Call me if you get a bad feeling at work, okay? I’ll be there for you.”

  I nodded, my breath catching in my throat.

  His hand was moving down under my underwear, and his mouth started moving on my ear, then my jawline, then moving farther down to my throat. He swept my hair aside, his mouth exploring back there, and I was full on sagging against him, just as his fingers began to rub over my clit.

  “Cross,” I moaned.

  “Jesus.” His arm tightened as his fingers dipped inside of me, thrusting upwards.

  I gasped, and then he growled, turning me in his arms. His fingers stayed inside, acting like a pivot and then I was up in his arms and he was carrying me to our room. “You’re going to be late for work.”

  He kicked the door shut, dropping me onto the bed and coming right down with me.

  That was totally fine with me.

  CROSS

  Bren had just tore out of the house right when my phone started ringing from the bedroom.

  I went back out, naked, the shower still running for me. Grabbing it, seeing who was calling, I bit back a groan.

  “Yeah?”

  Bren’s brother laughed harshly from the other end as I went to turn off my shower. “What a greeting. Hello to you.”

  I went back, sitting on the bed and raking a hand over my hair. “Don’t start. I know you’re calling with bad news.”

  “I’m not even going to ask how you know, because, of course, I am. Good news, I’m calling my sister.”

  My point exactly. I sat up, the energy I had after being with Bren was fast leaving me. I was exhausted once more. “What’s up, Channing?”

  “I’m coming there.”

  Whoa. I jerked up. “What?” I was suddenly all the way alert, more than I wanted to be. Post-sex was usually nice and happy and lots of extra endorphins. It wasn’t this. He was putting a lid on my post-sex good feeling. “When? Why?”

  “Today, and with my guys. Bren called our dad last night. You know that?”

  I went still, super still. “No. When?”

  “I don’t know when, but she did. What’s going on up there for her to suddenly decide to do that? I don’t want her around him. He is not good for her.”

  He was preaching to me like I wasn’t the choir here. I growled back, “I know that.”

  “Where’s my sister? She’s not answering her phone.”

  “She went to work.”

  “Wait. What?! Why’d she go there? They’re going to use her or ice her out. You weren’t supposed to let her go back.”

  “What are you talking about? You’re the one who set her up with them for a job in the first place.”

  “I did because they have a good reputation, and at the time, I had no clue there’d be thirty warrants issued for our dad’s MC. Is there more that you haven’t told me?”

  I paused, gritting my teeth, because there was.

  “Cross,” he growled at the silence.

  I sighed, filling him in on my conversation with Bren’s employer yesterday.

  “What. The. Fuck?! You admitted to that? He could’ve been recording you. That’s evidence he now has.”

  “It wasn’t like that.”

  Channing got quiet. “What do you mean?”

  “Listen, he said they were icing her out for her own good. They didn’t want to put her in the middle.”

  “Bullshit.” He exhaled a big burst of air from his end. “We’re on our way up. We’ll be there around noon, maybe before. We have a few pit stops on the way. Are you around?”

  “I’ll be done with my last class around four-thirty.”

  “I want you available to be there for Bren. Our dad is heading up. He’s going to get in town before us, but I don’t know if or when he’ll approach Bren. We’ll handle it, and if I think Bren needs you, I’ll call.” Now it was my turn to growl at him. “Fuck that. I told you that you have to loop us in. You don’t and nothing will get resolved. I’
m assuming that’s why you’re coming up here, right? To resolve something.”

  “You’re in college. You guys shouldn’t be dealing with any of this.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s Bren’s dad, so we will. We’ll do whatever we have to to have her back.”

  Channing was quiet a beat on his end. “I’ll call when we’re getting to town. Check in with Bren today. A lot.”

  “I will.”

  Then we hung up, and I texted everyone letting them know what was happening. We all needed to be on alert.

  Jordan: Got it. Bren, let us know how you’re doing.

  Zellman: I’ll call Sunday, see if anything’s going on at their end. Bren, thinking of you.

  And then, lastly:

  Bren: Thanks, guys. So far, so good.

  And to me:

  Bren: I have to deal with my dad. I wanted to see how he’d respond before mentioning it. That’s the only reason I didn’t tell you I reached out.

  Me: Did he respond?

  Bren: No, but now I know he’s coming. I’ll be waiting.

  Me: Want me to skip class and look for him?

  Bren: No. In a way, Channing’s right. You guys are in college. You should be college students, you know?

  Me: We’re crew first.

  Bren: And that’s why I love you.

  I grinned.

  Me: Love you too.

  Bren: Go and learn something, College Boy. I’m heading in to hopefully bust someone’s head today.

  Me: There’s my girl.

  BREN

  I figured it out.

  Something had been off this whole time. I thought it was because I was working, or trying to work, and the guys were following such a different path than me. That wasn’t it.

  We weren’t under threat. The administration wasn’t going after us. Other crews weren’t fighting us. Harper wasn’t even a fight, and the fraternity house was nothing. But my dad coming to town or knowing he was coming, it all fell back into place.

  Now I felt like I was on home territory, and that was sad.

  That was wrong, but it was what it was.

  “You ready for this?”

  Brock and Hawk had been keener with me when I got to work. I told them the line for coffee had been longer than normal, and no one seemed to care. They all took their coffees and returned back to the offices. Today, Trundle was back behind the register during daylight hours, and I lingered at the bar.

  Hawk and Brock shared a look before Hawk gave me a smile. “For transparency, we took all the pictures down. Everyone’s pictures.”

  “For transparency, my dad is coming to town.”

  Both jerked in place.

  Hawk’s eyes got big. “What?”

  “Here?” Brock took a step toward me, his eyes fierce. His mouth looked strained. “To our town?”

  I nodded, not knowing if I should’ve said anything, but I was between a rock and a hard place. My dad said he was fine. No warrant was out for him. This shouldn’t be a big deal, at least I was hoping. And then I added, “And my brother, too.”

  That had a different reaction, a much different reaction.

  The air in the room suddenly grew tenser, heavy. I felt it pressing on me.

  Hawk and Brock shared another look, and this last one was longer and a whole lot deeper. I wasn’t even going to try to interpret it. I was going to ride the wave. Whatever was coming was coming. If that wave were my dad, my brother, anyone else, I’d be here to endure what came with them.

  “Your brother?” The question came low from Brock.

  Fear flared in Hawk’s gaze before she masked it, turning for the office. “Well, before he gets here, let’s try to get most of our load done.”

  Brock’s mouth thinned, but he said, “Yeah.” Sending a shrewd look my way, he looked me up and down. “Suit up. You’re coming with us.”

  My mouth parted. I was so surprised. And excited. And eager.

  I fought Harper, but I hadn’t wanted to. This, though. This was different. This was what I could do and do it well, and feeling my heart trying to push out of my chest, I ducked my head and followed Hawk into the office.

  The first jump was an old guy.

  We went up and rang the doorbell. He answered, and he was taken in. There was no fight, no fuss. Said he didn’t go to his last court date because his wife never told him when it was.

  The second jump was an entirely different ballgame.

  Skinny lady in her fifties. Blonde hair a mess. Sores on her face. Haggard looking. Yellowed teeth. She offered to blow Brock three times. Twice was to be let free, and the last offer was because she just wanted him.

  We were pulling up for the third jump, and the last time they’d done this amount in a day was my first day on the job. Hawk told me on the ride over, “We spent so much time planning on how to scout out the Red Demon members that we got behind in our other workload. We’re playing catch-up now.”

  It was nearing noon, a little after when we pulled up to a white townhouse. A large truck and trailer were parked in the driveway, with another red car at the curb.

  I’d been to enough of these with them, so I knew what to expect. We already had our briefing, so when we rolled up, Brock and I darted out and went for the door. Hawk, Big, Burly all took off around to the back. Everyone checked in on their radios, but there was no movement from inside. The windows were boarded up.

  Shetland was behind me, running in from his truck parked on the street.

  Brock was closest to the door, and he glanced back. His eyebrows raised. Was I ready?

  I nodded back, and his eyebrows lowered. A firm look was in place, and he pounded on the door. “Bail Bonds Enforcement! Open your door!”

  There was no movement, no answer.

  He kept hitting the door. “Open up! OPEN THE DOOR!”

  More knocking.

  More pounding.

  Shetland started tapping the side of the garage with his stick.

  “There’s nothing back here. They’re either not home or hoping to wait us out,” came from Hawk over the radio.

  Brock reached for his radio. “Is Gramps on the radio?”

  Crackle. “I’m here.”

  “What was the vehicle that we were told this bail jump is driving?”

  Crackle. “A red truck. Old. Broken down.”

  “License plate?”

  Gramps read the number.

  Brock nodded at Shetland. “Can you check?”

  “That’s a white truck.”

  “Check anyway. We might’ve got the wrong color told to us.”

  Shetland moved back, and Brock glanced at me. His finger lifted from the radio. “You doing okay?”

  Was I doing okay?

  My heart was pounding. Palms were sweaty. Knees were locked, but I wanted this. I was a bull in the gate, waiting to be released into the field. Hell yeah, I was okay. I flashed him a smile. “I’m fine.”

  He narrowed his eyes, giving me a second study before Shetland came up. “Yeah. It’s the same plates. They must’ve switched the plates on us.”

  Brock swore, then pushed on his radio. “The white truck is the vehicle—”

  Shetland’s phone lit up. He read the screen, then lifted it for us to read.

  Hawk: I need the radio.

  Brock lifted his finger.

  Cackle. “This is Hawk.”

  Brock replied, “Go, Hawk.” “We’ve got movement back here. They’re trying to sneak out. Patio door opened. He’s running around the side of the house. To the west—”

  Brock and Shetland shot for the west side, darting to meet him around the end.

  I held back. This didn’t seem right. If he knew to switch the truck, switch the plates, sneak out of his patio door, then it would make sense that he’d know his house was surrounded. Unless…just as I realized what was happening, the garage door behind me burst open.

  A body shot out, barreling into me.

  Pain slammed through me, slicing everywhere.
<
br />   I hit the sidewalk pavement, and my hand was embedded in shrubbery.

  Feeling my skin being pierced all over, I growled. No! That was my first thought as I looked up and saw the guy look down at me. It was the bail jumper. He was a big fucker, and no way was he getting away that easily.

  Just then, I heard shouting from the distance. Vehicles were screeching to a halt somewhere, but I was focused only on this guy. He paused, staring at me.

  In that moment, it was him and me, and he saw me. He saw my fight. He saw my anger.

  His eyes flared, too. He wanted to hurt me, and his knee jerked up. But he caught himself. He was going to kick me or squash me with his foot, one or the other, but I was already getting to my feet and running after him.

  He tore out of there, heading past his truck because he was blocked in by another vehicle.

  I knew that vehicle. Recognition flared in the back of my head, and I knew who had just joined our fight. My brother and Moose were jumping out of their truck. Moose was heading to block the guy. Channing was behind him. They were going to trap him, and then someone else would take him down.

  No. No. No.

  This guy was mine—and I screamed as Moose started to lift his arm up to knock the guy down, “NO!”

  Moose paused, seeing me hurtling after him, and he moved aside.

  The stall helped. I saw it all in a split second, and my plan was already laid out in my mind.

  The guy was tearing past Channing, tearing past Moose. He was heading for the street, and he was going to try getting away on foot, but he heard my scream. He saw Moose and he paused, too.

  It was just enough.

  I threw myself at him, pushing off the street with everything in me. I wrapped around his knees, tripping the guy. As he fell, I was already climbing up him, grabbing his arm, twisting my body around his neck, and as my back hit the road, I yanked as hard as I could. My legs wound around his neck and I had him trapped in place. If he pushed anywhere, he would dislocate his own shoulder. That pain alone usually helped keep people in place, and he was no different.