Page 137 of Crew Princess
Drake. I’d gotten that dislike from him, and I hadn’t even noticed. I’d never questioned. I’d blindly believed and adopted his mantra. Shame bloomed in my chest.
“You’re not with Sunday anymore?” I asked.
“Nah. It was a week fling. That was it, but the kid is coming. She’s keeping it, so there’s my other incentive not to fuck up and get a knife in my back. And if I could make some money, a part of me was all about that.”
“What changed?”
“Alex.”
In an instant, his face transformed to dark and slightly murderous. “My uncle never should’ve fucking included Alex.”
I spared him a look. “You gifted him to us. Remember?”
“I had to do that, and you know it. If I hadn’t, your crew would’ve simmered. Your boy would’ve exploded one day, and I couldn’t control that situation.” His jaw clenched. “I like Taz. She’s a civilian, and she never should’ve been hurt. My brother had that coming, and everyone knows it. And besides, I didn’t gift him up. He volunteered. Those texts came from him, not me.”
From Alex?
More shame, more regret, more…doubt filled me.
Violence.
Sunday was right.
We always went to violence first. Maybe violence needed to be the last resort? Like we’d been doing lately. It was a better feeling, not so dark, not so filled with hate, anger, all the stuff that gets in you and eats at your soul.
Maybe…
“Don’t beat yourself up. Alex isn’t all bad. He just has a drug problem.” A growl worked its way up his throat. “A drug problem my uncle exploited, asking him to plant the drugs on you. It was the wrong fucking move.”
Then I knew. I got it. And I got why he’d come to me first.
“You’re turning yourself in to save your brother, aren’t you?”
He stood, brushing some of the grass from his jeans. He looked down at me. “Yes and no. I found out what they did, and I was pissed, but I was going to go in anyway. It’s all ending. Drugs were supposed to be planted on you, but the tip went in about a shooter, not drugs. My uncle’s contact fucked up, went too big. Now there’s heat on him even before me going in. It’d all unravel anyway. I’m just making it go at hyper-speed. I don’t go in, they’ll kill Alex. He’s a loose end. They’d take me out too. I go in to save both our heads.”
I nodded. “And you want me to get my crew together, go find Alex, and take care of him?”
“No. I want you guys to help take care of Sunday. My kid. If something happens to me, help with my mini-me.” He bent, his hand resting on my shoulder. He squeezed and said softly, “I really did love you once, Bren.”
He left, and I remained.
I didn’t move for a long time after.
Drake did as he’d promised.
He went to the police station, the Roussou one. I wondered if he’d changed his mind because the only dirty cops in Roussou were the ones who gave my brother information. Maybe. Who knew. But for whatever reason, he went there instead. I knew Drake had asked for immunity in exchange for his tale, but I didn’t know if he’d get it. I hoped for that.
Either way, by noon, everyone had been apprehended.
Race’s dad.
The dirty cop in the FCPD.
The sellers—leaving the Ryerson crew leaderless yet again.
I wondered if they were going to take the hint and just disband. And Alex went to rehab. I was losing count of how many times he’d been there. Maybe one day it would stick. I hoped so.
Zellman took the news identifying Sunday’s baby daddy fairly well, considering the way Drake came out with everything.
