Page 125 of Crew Princess
I picked up my pace, going to him.
The famous guy yelled over the crowd, “Channing.”
My brother’s hand was on the small of my back. “I know,” he called. “Come to the warehouse.”
The guy nodded, going back to signing an autograph.
But Cross was in front of me by then, and his arms were around me as he lifted me in the air. Everything—all the strategizing, all the worrying—all of it was gone in that instant. It was only Cross and me, and I didn’t want to let go.
“Shit,” he gasped, peppering me with kisses. “I was so worried. I lost it. Totally fucking lost it. I could’ve killed someone.”
If that was supposed to scare me, it had the opposite effect. I just hugged him harder. Then Jordan and Zellman plucked me out of Cross’ arms to hug me, one by one. Then came Taz and Race.
I whispered to him, “They told me Alex was dead.”
He jerked backward. “What?!”
“You haven’t heard?”
“No. But—what?”
I patted his arm. “Find out. We have to talk later.”
He nodded before stepping back, already pulling out his phone. His hand in Taz’s, he led her to his vehicle.
Tabatha. Sunday.
Then came Moose, Lincoln, Congo, and Chad. A truck pulled up, and rather than find a parking spot, it just stopped, and the driver ran out, coming around the front to pick me up. Scratch.
“Heya, cousin.” He swung me around. “I heard you been starting trouble.” He set me down, grinning, and smoothed my hair. “Why am I not surprised?”
I laughed, pulling back and softly punching his shoulder. “You just got here? Slacker.”
He barked out a laugh, then spoke over my shoulder. “Heather called. She’s holding down the fort, but wants to know the plan.”
Channing stepped up beside me. “We’re going to meet at the warehouse, but I need a moment with Bren and her crew alone.”
“Got it. I’ll let her know. She’ll meet us there.”
Scratch headed back to his truck, and Channing bent down. “I’ll put Lincoln on the guy, but do me a favor,” he said softly. “Meet me at the office before we go to the warehouse. I want to know everything that’s going on before I step inside that warehouse.”
I nodded as Cross took my hand.
No one said a word.
I was out. Now it was time to regroup, make a plan, and execute.
Our enemy struck us down.
We rallied.
Now we were off to defeat them, conquer, win.
I wanted to think that was our next course of action, but something—a nagging something in the back of my mind—was telling me otherwise.
In a way, what they did was simple, though it appeared complex. Distract, then throw a ton of shit at us to keep us distracted.Thenmove in. Sell drugs. Keep the profits going. But in another way, it wasn’t simple at all. It was actually very dumb because they were banking on no one figuring it out. And they were banking on all those different factors they’d used as a distraction to go away.
They weren’t going to go away.
