Always Crew (Crew Series Book 3) Read online

Cross noticed and backed up a step. “What?”

  Jordan stood, but he did it slowly. He was being smart, though his words came out hurriedly. “Bren’s connections are to a motorcycle club and bounty hunters. Zellman—Zellman’s connections are to us. And my parents own a small construction company, emphasis on the small part. You, though. Your dad works—”

  “But he doesn’t. He took a new position this year. He’s got no connections anymore.”

  “But—”

  “But nothing, Jordan,” Cross raised his voice. “None of us have the connections to handle a bad loan.”

  “Eh…”

  I was getting sick of the …

  This one came from Zellman, and his eyes were pinned to me. “Do we really not have those connections? Bad loan, right? That’s something in Bren’s circles, if you ask me.”

  A growl emanated from Cross’ throat and he stepped in front of me. “That’s bad business.”

  “Bad loan. The one guy’s daughter felt like she needed to whore herself out—”

  “I don’t like the whore word.” My two cents.

  “—or heavily kiss the guy to appease the son, whom she was hoping could appease the dad to lay off trying to get his money back from the bad loan. I mean,” Zellman took all of us in before swallowing, “that doesn’t seem like it’s in the up-and-up business world, if you know what I mean.”

  His gaze came to me.

  Jordan’s gaze was on me, too.

  Cross was rigid, standing in front of me. “No.”

  Jordan noted, his tone softening, “She could call her brother, talk it out with him. He might have ideas.”

  “I said no!”

  Jordan sighed. He shifted forward, his foot sounding on the pavement, a rock scraping over it. “Bren was arrested last semester and you lost your shit. You had to be carried out of the police station.”

  I sucked in my breath, and held a hand out, touching Cross’ back. It was so tense. He was solid, almost like pavement.

  “Guys.” Jordan’s anguish was so deep, so raw.

  I stepped around Cross, hearing him draw in a sharp breath, straightening as if my touch had kept him in place. His hand came to my arm, sliding to my wrist. He held me there, keeping me to his side.

  Jordan choked out, “A phone call. One call.” He looked at Cross. “What could it hurt?”

  As he spoke, Cross’ tension just doubled.

  I moved forward, my hand lifting, and I laid my hand on his chest. With my palm against his shirt, I held it in place, speaking to Jordan. “One call to Channing. We’ll see what he thinks.”

  Zellman spoke up, “Tabatha has to be there.”

  “Z…” From Jordan, a whisper.

  Zellman shook his head, his jaw firm. “She has to be there. She has to know. This is going to affect her and her family. She has to know.” He focused only on Jordan. “You’re going to have to apologize for all that pussy you ran through, thinking she cheated on you willingly.” His mouth twitched. “That’s going to suuuuck. But on the bright side, at least you didn’t get to her sorority girls yet.”

  Jordan expelled some air, shaking his head and massaging his jaw. “You’re a dick.”

  “Nah.” Zellman pounded him in the shoulder before stepping back quickly. “Just family.” He began backing toward the house, his hands in the air. “My two cents, we should do this as soon as possible.” His eyes fell to the couch. “And that thing should go in the garage. We can drink beer out here on it.”

  Jordan frowned, but he was also trying not to grin at the same time. “We need a couch inside.”

  “Yeah,” Zellman called out from inside the garage, opening the door to the house. “We can con Blaise into buying one. He’s rich and bad at cards. He’ll cough up two grand easily.”

  That had merit. I asked Cross, “Does your brother play cards?”

  Cross shrugged. “Who the fuck knows. He’ll give you the money. Just tell him he can hit Harper first.”

  “No!” Jordan barked out, his eyes heated again. “Harper’s mine.”

  Cross got quiet. “Harper did something to Aspen.”

  The heated look only got worse. “Then he can think he’s getting first crack, but the reality is that I’ll get first crack.”

  Cross was quiet, then nodded. “I’m good with that.”

  Zellman yelled from the house, “Can we get back to our crew meeting? We didn’t finish it from last night, and I have curse words to say about Sunday having Bren’s ex’s baby. It’s my turn in the chair.”

  I grimaced. “When he says it like that, it just sounds God-awful.”

  Jordan chuckled. “Good thing that documentary is already done, huh? Can you imagine if they got this shit on there?”

  No. I didn’t want to imagine that.

  We went inside and Zellman got his turn to spew.

  FROM: Tazsters

  TO: Brenners

  SUBJECT: holy fuckers fucking around

  I just got off the phone with Tab. I’m coming there. I’m packing my bags now. We’re going to bust him open. Wide open. I’m heated, Bren. Seriously fucking heated. Please tell me you guys are going all-crew on him? Or maybe not.

  That’d be evidence, wouldn’t it?

  Never mind.

  Code words now.

  When I want you to beat someone up, I’ll use the word ‘hug.’ I really really really want you to fucking hug the fuck out of the Zach guy.

  Wait.

  Zeke, right?

  I’m still confused on who we’re hating, but I need to know because I’m seriously hating. I’m looking him up. I can cyber stalk his ass. I’ll find everything there is to know about him, so you can, you know—hug him. For me. Extra hard.

  Race is in too.

  —Still The Best Twin

  BREN

  Two days later and we had everyone in our living room, my phone sitting in the middle of the coffee table.

  “This is a nice couch.”

  No one groaned hearing Blaise’s smug comment, but I knew everyone wanted to. He’d been rubbing it in since he showed up, and Zellman hadn’t been able to talk him into losing a game of cards. Turns out that Cross’ brother wasn’t a big gambler when it came to cards. He mentioned something about ‘reforming himself’ so he couldn’t do cards, but when Blaise pushed for the reason behind the invitation, Cross told him. Grudgingly.

  This morning, a new couch was delivered to our front door, no cards were ever dealt.

  “Shut up,” Jordan sniped at him, throwing Tabatha a glare, too. “No one fucking asked for your charity.”

  Blaise snorted, leaning back on the couch, throwing his arm up on the back. “Right. Instead, you were hoping to con it out of me.” Leaning forward, elbows to his knees, he gave Jordan a hard look. The smugness was gone. “And it’s not charity. I now own something in your house. Do you not get how much pleasure that brings me? I can rub it in your faces anytime I want.”

  Jordan’s eyes narrowed. He was standing against the back wall and he readjusted, crossing his arms over his chest. “We can take a knife to it, throw it out. Problem solved.”

  “Good thing I took insurance out on it. I’ll just send another one.”

  Jordan’s head looked ready to explode. His problem wasn’t really Cross’ brother being here. It was Tabatha, who hadn’t said a word since she entered the house. She was standing in a corner by herself, with a similar posture as Jordan, her arms hugging herself.

  “Blaise.” A welcomed interruption. Aspen, Blaise’s girlfriend, had come with him. While Blaise was a jackass of most proportions, she was the opposite. Quiet. Long legs that she told me once had put her in a few modeling jobs. She was a natural beauty with willowy blonde hair and green eyes. I was also convinced she was made of magic, because while I didn’t totally understand it myself, I’d become fiercely protective of her. It seemed she had the same spell over Blaise. He was a kitten around her. And her slight admonishment worked.

  Blaise eased back,
throwing her a regretful look.

  She patted his arm before he whipped it around her, pulling her onto his lap.

  She gasped in shock, but then was shaking in silent laughter. Blaise had his head buried in her neck, whispering things to her that no one wanted to know.

  Tabatha was eyeing them, a keen look of her own regret tightening her face. Her mouth pressed in and she seemed to suck in some air and held onto it. As she expelled it, her gaze went to Jordan before flicking away, her head folding down.

  “Okay.” Cross took charge, sitting on the recliner beside the coffee table. He gave his brother a dark look. “Can you stop?”

  Blaise grinned over the top of Aspen’s head. “Feeling sick, brother? Too much drinking last night?”

  “If I’m sick, it’s because—” He rolled his eyes, turning to me. “You ready?”

  I nodded, my eyes moving to Tabatha one more time. She’d been told Jordan’s reaction and had agreed to come, but when she didn’t move forward from her corner, I took in how her hands were trembling. She stuffed them farther around herself, her own arms now covering them.

  Hiding.

  Pain sliced through me because there’d been a time when I had done the same. The problem was that what you were hiding from never went away. It just grew in size and power. I said to Cross, my eyes on her, “It’s time.”

  My own stomach was tied in a knot as I took the seat beside Blaise.

  Aspen was still on his lap, but she had shifted so it seemed she was more just lounging, and he happened to be the chair she picked. Both were waiting, watching me.

  Reaching forward, I took my phone and dialed Channing’s number.

  I put him on speaker when he answered. “Yo! What’s up, little B?”

  There was a loud whooshing sound on his end, but he sounded happy. Cheerful. Some of the tension in the room lifted just hearing his voice.

  I leaned forward. “Where are you?”

  “Why are you echoing?”

  “You’re on speaker.”

  “Okay. Why?” We could hear his confusion. “What’s going on? You sound like trouble.”

  More of my tension lifted. There was only the small knot in my stomach. I flattened my hands over my legs. “I’m not in trouble.”

  He grumbled, “Yeah. Let me be the judge. What’s going on? Who else is there?”

  Cross spoke up, “Cross and our whole group, plus a few others.”

  We heard the whooshing sound before Channing’s voice came back, “Who are ‘a few others’?”

  We were all expecting a sarcastic response from Blaise, but when Cross sent him a warning look, he only held his hands up. Aspen leaned forward, saying, “Hi, Bren’s brother. This is Aspen. You remember me?”

  “Oh yeah. You’re jackass’ girlfriend. Hi.”

  She laughed, leaning back against Blaise’s chest and relaxing. His hands came to her hips as he tipped them both forward. “Aspen said I had to be nice to her brother’s friends. So this is me being nice.” He flashed Aspen a grin before pressing a kiss to one of her temples, brushing a strand of her hair back. The entire gesture was loving, tender.

  Tabatha made a sound, her eyes wide. Her mouth parted in a surprised grunt. “How many brothers and sisters are there in this group? This is becoming ridiculous.”

  Blaise’s eyes narrowed.

  Aspen covered his hand, speaking before he could, “Channing is Bren’s brother. Blaise is Cross’ brother. And Channing is friends with my brother. It’s not that difficult to follow.”

  “Who is your brother?” Tabatha shot back. “Please tell me his name doesn’t start with a B or a C. Can we get some more Ts in the mix?”

  Aspen frowned. “My brother’s name is Nate.”

  Channing called from the phone, “Is this call about Nate?”

  Aspen looked to me. Cross looked to me. Everyone looked to me. Well, except Blaise. He was only focused on Aspen, drawing a circle on the back of her neck and ignoring the rest of the noise.

  Okay, then. Seemed I was in charge.

  I started, “We’re calling because we need to run something by you, see if you might have an idea how to handle it.”

  “Okay, but first who’s the other chick? The bitchy sounding one.”

  Zellman snorted, his head looking firmly toward the floor.

  Jordan even laughed at that.

  Blaise was ignoring us.

  A choked sound rippled from Tabatha, and that seemed to get her free from the corner. She came forward a few steps, and her hands loosened, falling down but still holding onto the other wrist. She was half-hugging herself. “My name is Tabatha Sweets and I’m the reason for this call.”

  Silence.

  Channing said, “Okay? Look. I’ve got a bounty in my truck trying to kick out the windows and piss on my men. I’ve stepped away from them while they’re being railed by the bounty’s fucked-up family. Get to the point or I’m ending this call and calling my sister later to talk to her alone. Got it?”

  Tabatha didn’t respond right away.

  Channing wasn’t down with that. “Start talking. Now!”

  She jumped forward. “My father is Henry Sweets.” She stammered to a stop.

  A part of me was appreciating this moment because I’d seen Tabatha say a lot of things, but rarely when she was flustered about how to respond. Pissed. Happy. Feisty. Scared. But this, when she seemed just flummoxed, and yes, I was preening that I had used both of those words just now, but that’s what she was. She was flustered by my brother.

  I was loving it.

  “I know your dad. Is that why I’m still standing here waiting to hear the reason for this call?”

  I was really loving this.

  Tabatha blinked rapidly. Her hands came undone and she wiped them down her face. “Uh—yes. Yes, sir.”

  Channing groaned. “Do not let my sister hear you call me sir. I will never hear the end of that.”

  I chirped up, grinning, “Too late.” A pause. “Sir.”

  He cursed into the phone. “Bren, you start with that and you don’t want to hear what I’ll start calling you back.”

  Yep. I loved my brother. A lot.

  I just laughed. “Just hear her out and stop trying to scare her. She’s had a hard time.”

  “Why don’t you summarize it for her, hmm? I’m not lying about my guys and my bounty right now. I really don’t have the time.”

  I raised my eyebrows at Tabatha and she nodded, stepping back into the corner, her shoulders falling down again. She looked almost relieved.

  “Tabatha’s dad took out a bad loan to a guy named—”

  Blaise spoke for this one, “Timothy Harper, Senior. He owns some restaurants in LA, but also some—”

  Channing cut in, “Strip clubs. Yeah. I know of him. He has a strip club that’s on the outskirts between Roussou and Frisco. He’s got some illegal connections. Bren, what the fuck?”

  I frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  “You’re mixed up in this?”

  Oh. “Tab is a friend. The issue we have is that—”

  Tabatha remained in her corner, but spoke up, her voice shaking, “I overheard my dad on the phone. I ran home one day. It was a quick trip. He didn’t know I was coming home and he was yelling at someone on the phone. My mom was gone, but I needed—”

  “It’s okay.” Channing was more soothing now. “You don’t have to explain what you went there for. Just tell me the bullet points.”

  She closed her eyes, both sides of her mouth turning down. Whatever she’d endured over the last two months had taken a toll. I noticed that she had lost weight, but I hadn’t really took note of it. I hadn’t given it any thought, but seeing her now, really seeing her, she looked as if two gusts of wind could blow her over. That was not the Tabatha Sweets I knew from school.

  Regret and pain speared me, going right through my sternum.

  I should’ve been a better friend.

  Hell. I should’ve been a friend.r />
  I’d been lost in my own world, the one where I was not thinking about my dad.

  Tab yelled at me months ago for not being a good friend. She was right.

  She was talking, “...He threatened my dad.”

  “You heard it?”

  She was nodding, but said for Channing, “Yes. He said, ‘Pay up or we’ll hurt your wife and kid.’”

  Thud!

  All of us whipped around. Jordan was leaving the room, a hole in the wall where he’d been standing.

  Aspen’s mouth turned into an O. Blaise shifted her to the couch, easing out from under her. He shot Cross a look before heading after Jordan.

  Now that was interesting, but Cross stayed put. So did Zellman.

  “I don’t want to know what that was, and since I’m not hearing any screams, let’s move on. Sweets, what exactly were the words used?”

  She was still looking in the direction Jordan had gone, out through the kitchen and into the backyard. “Um.” She was blinking again, shaking her head. “Oh. He said what I said, but when my dad started to get upset, he said, ‘If you don’t pay, we’ll put your wife in the hospital.’” That was it. My dad got quiet after that, and I left the room. My mom’s been sick this summer. They’ve been running tests on her to find out what’s going on, but she can’t take any more stress. And I don’t know what he meant by it, but nothing can happen to my mom.” Her voice started rising, shaking.

  I shifted on my feet, feeling a pull to go to her, but Aspen was on her feet, heading for Tabatha before I got there. She didn’t know Tab, but it didn’t seem to matter. She stood next to her, taking Tabatha’s hand in hers and it seemed to help. Tabatha nodded, her eyes closed, and she spoke again, her voice more firm, “I’d met Tim Harper, Junior, a few times. I knew he liked me, and I knew that his dad doted on him, so I thought I could date Tim, get him to call his dad off of mine.” Guilt flooded her face and she looked to where Jordan was outside. He was standing there, Blaise not far from him. The two looked like they were talking, or Blaise was talking and Jordan was listening, his hands in fists at his side. “I think it worked, but now the group knows and,” she couldn’t finish, her eyes finding mine. There was a deep plea in them, one I felt deep down, and was answering the pull before I even knew it. I was crossing the room, standing next to her. I didn’t hold her hand. That wasn’t the type of person I was, but I was there. I was at her side, and I spoke for her now, “There’s a room of guys in here who want to beat the shit out of Junior.”