Page 16 of Crew
Jordan ignored that, his eyebrows arching. "We're here because we're crew. You?"
"What?" A question formed in Race's dark eyes, followed by understanding. His eyes widened a bit. "That actually exists?" He looked between us, ending with me again.
"Fuck's sake." Even Zellman was fed up and moved to partially block me too. He was also blocking Cross, which didn't bode well.
Cross kicked, hitting the back of Zellman's knees. They jerked forward from reflex, and he rounded on Cross, laughing.
"Asshole."
Cross hit him on the shoulder. "Stop standing in front of me."
Zellman gestured to me. "I'm standing in front of her, but you know." He shrugged. "I don't want to piss her off at the same time."
I rolled my eyes. I didn't need protection.
"You should go," I told Race, moving around all of them.
He stared at me without answering. No blinking. Nothing. He just...stared.
Zellman growled, "Dude, move along. I don't care what your last name is."
A normal person would've scattered long ago.
But Race didn't move. He continued to stare long and hard at Zellman, then his gaze returned to me.
As those dark eyes met mine, I felt a stirring inside. I didn't like it.
I raised my head. "Do you have a problem with me?"
His cocky smirk came back, a soft chuckle slipping out.
The guys moved forward a step.
"Seriously, man?" Jordan glared down at him.
Still, Race didn't cower. "You're just like he said."
He. I knew who he meant the second he said it. My fucking ex-boyfriend. Drake.
"Who the fuck are you talking about?" Zellman demanded.
Jordan ignored him and moved forward, almost invading Race's personal space. "I will light you up, fucker. I don't care if Alex is your family. We've told you to move along."
