Page 160 of Crew
Once the three sat down and the guys positioned themselves at the end of the truck's bed, Cross started off.
Despite what he said, he did drive safer than usual, slowing down at turns and even stopping at an empty intersection because the light was red. The rest of the crew smirked at him as he pulled into the alley behind his house.
He noticed our looks and grimaced. "Don't fucking start."
Jordan laughed. "You're a good brother, Cross."
Cross walked ahead of him, extending a middle finger in the air.
I followed Cross, glancing back toward Jordan and Zellman.
The girls had fallen to the back. Tabatha and Sunday were whispering. I slowed, letting Jordan and Zellman go past me. I felt their curious looks, but I ignored them.
Tabatha looked smug, with her chest jutting out, as they approached me.
"You okay?" Taz drew up next to me.
It was her boyfriend we were here to save. "Shouldn't I be asking you that?"
"Yeah, but..." Her eyes ran over my face. "You look tired."
Tabatha laughed, linking her elbow with Taz's. "That's her nice way of saying you look like crap." She jiggled Taz a little, those smug eyes on me. "Be nice, Taz. Her guys are here to save the day. Remember?"
Oh.
No.
In an instant, my hand was around her throat, and I walked her back until I could shove her into the side of Cross' truck.
"He--whoa!"
"OH MY GOD!" Sunday screeched, and the guys came back to see what was happening.
Zellman grabbed Sunday's shoulders and began walking her into the house. She resisted at first, digging her heels in, but after he whispered in her ear, she began edging away with him. She kept looking back, biting her lip.
I waited, my hand around Tabatha's throat.
She wasn't fighting me. She was tense and still, watching me.
Taz twisted her hands in front of her. "Bren, don't. Please."
Everyone ignored her, and Cross stepped up on my left, followed by Jordan on my right. As they closed in, Taz was shut out. She could hear me, but she couldn't see my face.
"Cross," Tabatha pretended to croak at him.
I couldn't hide a grin. As soon as I'd gotten her against the truck, I'd loosened my hold dramatically. She could've stepped free. She was putting on a show.
Cross knew it too. "Yeah?" He raised an eyebrow.
Her eyes darted from me to him. "Help." A hoarse whisper. "Please."
His face was impassive, and he shifted back, giving us some space. He crossed his arms over his chest. "She's barely touching you. Stop acting."
"Cross!" Her voice sounded more normal there.
"Why the fuck are you talking to me?"
Her eyebrows shot up. "You're going to let her touch me like this?"
