Page 35 of Crew
Race threw a right hook, spinning his body with the punch. It knocked the guy sideways, and his body got tangled up with a second.
Cross rolled to his feet, and we both stood with our knees bent, hands up, prepared for the next move. Seeing Race fighting for us, we looked at each other for a moment, but that was the extent of it.
A rush of new members came flooding in from the front of Manny's, and we turned to face them. In the mess, we formed a circle with our backs to each other. Cross. Me. Jordan. Zellman. And now Race. He was fighting on our side.
I didn't punch. I used my legs for most of my fighting. I wrapped my feet around one guy's head and fell to my back, using the action and gravity to throw him over me when I saw red and blue lights through the window.
I pushed to my feet. "POLICE!"
Everyone unified.
We all took off, pushing forward to spill out the side door. I took the shortcut, not caring how pissed Heather would be. She'd had another exit door installed last summer so the cooks could step outside for a fast break.
Dodging the dishwasher and two girls huddled in the corner, I shoved open the screen door. It didn't slam shut behind me. Cross, Zellman, and Jordan were on my tail until Cross took the lead.
He patted my arm. "Come on!" He was the fastest in our crew, and he led the way, running toward Heather's house behind Manny's. Jordan's car was parked in the alley behind her garage.
No words were spoken as we piled in. Jordan started the truck right away.
Cross, Zellman, and I scrambled into the back, and as Jordan peeled out, all of us lying flat. We didn't get far. Jordan hit the brakes, but then eased forward as we saw more police lights going past us.
We stayed like that the whole ride back to Jordan's.
I closed my eyes at one point, replaying the scene in my head.
Race had our backs in there. Why, I had no clue, but there were going to be problems for him now. He was a Normal, and he'd gone against his cousin. They'd either turn on him, or if Alex decided to make it a family issue, he'd be kicked out of the house.
It didn't sit right with me.
None of it.
We went to Jordan's, but no one left the truck. He parked and got out, opening the back bed, and the three of us sat on the tailgate, our feet dangling. Jordan lounged against the side of his truck, his hands in his pockets. He looked like a guy leaning back, enjoying the weather, except his eyes were downcast, his forehead was wrinkled, and he frowned.
I raked a hand through my hair, feeling the frayed ends and trying to smooth some of it. After a minute I gave up, letting my hands rest on my lap.
Cross sat next to me. He gripped the edge of the truck, next to his legs. His knuckles were turning white.
Zellman was the only one nonplussed. He watched us, an expectant note in his eyes, like he was ready for whatever was next on the agenda.
"The dude fought with us."
Everyone looked at Jordan. He looked at me.
"Why'd he fight on our side?"
"I clipped him when I thought he was going at me."
Jordan shook his head. "That's not an answer, Bren. He want in your pants or something? Is this about Drake, whatever he said about you?"
"You're asking me like I have an answer."
He rolled his eyes. "It's not the time to be a smartass."
"She doesn't know. She hasn't talked to him except when you've seen her."
Jordan's gaze switched to Cross, but he didn't retort.
"We're supposed to believe the guy backed us up for no reason?" he said after a moment.
