Shivers snaked their way down my spine, turning into a throb in my stomach. That throb was moving lower, and I flattened my hand against my stomach. I hadn’t felt this before, with anyone.

I moved to the side so I could see Cross’ face. I almost couldn’t look away. He was entrancing, the way his chin jutted up defiantly and his nostrils flared, how he looked down his nose at Race.

He was pushing back a foe, one maybe we hadn’t seen before. Cross was right. Race had been slinking his way in, and as if feeling my thoughts, he looked my way.

He shook his head. “I didn’t—I offered to help because I want to help. There’s no agenda. I mean it.”

“Bullshit.”

Race focused on Cross again. “I mean it. I don’t want anything from you guys. My parents are divorcing. That’s the real reason we’re here. The fighting ring is a bonus. It’s a way to piss off my dad, to be completely honest. But I do like fighting, and yeah, I mean…” His eyes cast down. He rolled his shoulders back. “God. I don’t know. Maybe I did have an agenda. Drake told me to stick close to you guys if I wanted protection. I don’t want to join my cousin’s crew. They’re not the good ones. I’ve heard them. I’ve been around them. They’re turning into the bad crew.” He stopped again, licking his lips, his throat moving up and down. “Shit. You’re right. I was trying to weasel my way in.” A fleeting panic pulled at his face. “I’m sorry. I am. I know that’s how you guys are. I didn’t—I wasn’t thinking it through. Drake said you guys were the ones to be friends with.”

Cross snorted. “Drake was fucking with you.” His eyes slid my way again. “He knows we don’t bring in strays. He wanted to mess with us.”

Us.

I swallowed over a knot.

Me.

My ex wanted to mess with me, and I remembered all his sniping comments about Cross.

He wanted to mess with me and Cross.

I swore. “I’m going to rip his balls off.”

Jordan and Zellman laughed.

A faint grin showed at the corner of Cross’ mouth. Some of the air lightened too, but he didn’t say anything.

“I…” Race looked between us, eyes lingering on me and Cross. He moved back a step, his head lowered, almost in submission. “I wondered, but I didn’t…”

Cross snapped his gaze back to him, sharpening once more.

“Wondered?” he bit out.

That was enough. I stepped forward, my hand touching Cross’ arm lightly. We didn’t need to have untruths dredged up, not yet, not when I wasn’t ready to think about that either.

I cleared my throat. “If you’re serious about the charity thing—”

“I am.” His head lifted. “I really am. Tell me the amount, and I’ll call my dad.”

“That’s for Taz, right?” Jordan spoke up.

“Yeah.”

“Then come on, moneybags.” He stepped forward, his arm coming around Race’s shoulder again, but this time it was casual, like they truly were friends. He patted Race on the arm. “Let’s you and me go and find the female Shaw. I’ll help out with this charity thing.”

He wasn’t giving Race an option. He started walking him right back out, just a little more respectfully than the way he’d dragged him back here, and he winked at me as they went by.

Zellman watched them go, his hand twisting some of his curls before he turned to us. “Jordan’s got a thing for your sis. I’m announcing it now before it becomes a problem.” He held his hands up. “And don’t go all dark Cross on me now. I won’t take it like that guy. I’ll just pop you in the face.”

And he would. He’d get beaten up by Cross in the end, but to him it would be worth it.

I grinned, but I was relieved when that lightened the mood even more. Cross started asking questions, but Zellman wasn’t answering.

He kept shaking his head, saying, “You have to ask Jordan,” until Jordan himself came back. Alone.

Jordan gestured over his shoulder. “I left the new guy with Taz. She was cornered by the cheerleaders.” He nodded at Zellman. “Sunday wants to know if you want to hook up tonight.”

Zellman grunted. “Am I in a crew?” He stopped, squinting at me. “Are you still fighting with her? I thought that ended after the tire thing.”

“What?”

“Never mind.” He gave Jordan a thumbs-up. “I’m up, on, and in for whatever’s going down tonight that has to with Sunday and being all sexual.” He was starting to bounce up and down.

I grimaced at that thought, but remembered the other conversation from study hall. Sharing a look with Cross, I said, “Uh, guys?” I bobbed my head at Cross. “You want to loop them in on what else is going on with Ryerson? The bad one.”

Jordan and Zellman snapped to attention.

This was crew business, and after Cross relayed Alex’s latest antics, Jordan cursed.

“You serious? He’s fucking proclaiming they’re the biggest and baddest?”

Cross nodded, and then we all grew silent.

We weren’t saying a word, but I knew what was going on.

We were the Wolf Crew. We were four, and we were fierce. We didn’t need the numbers other crews took on, but what helped us all gel sometimes didn’t make up for the fact that there were only four of us. If it came down to a war, we’d strap on and step up to the line, and we’d be smart about it. But prevention was always the first step.

Which meant someone had to talk to Alex. He was a hothead, and the best person to talk to him was Drake, which meant I was right back where I’d been earlier.

Me talking to him.

“Fuck.”

Jordan sighed. “You know it’s the best option.”

But still.

I shook my head, shoving my hands into my pockets. “This fucking sucks.”

Cross stepped close, his shoulder grazing mine. “I’ll go with you.”

“Ah.” Jordan clipped his head from right to left. “No. Hell no. Not to be a prick here, but that would not be good. We all know how much Drake Ryerson hates you, so I agree with Bren.”

“You do?” I don’t have to go?

“You should take your brother.”

Oh. Double fuck.

“And we should go now, before anything gets worse.”

Look at Jordan, being our leader.

I grimaced, but gave in. “Fine.”

Jordan and Zellman went to Jordan’s truck, and Cross and I went to my Jeep.

Tuesday Tits was pretty much the exact opposite of Manny’s. The name itself should’ve given that away. As we drove up to my brother’s bar, a line of motorcycles were parked outside the front door. We pulled into the back alley and found a whole second line of motorcycles parked there too.

Tuesday Tits catered to a rough crowd—not just my brother’s crew, though they fit in, but a biker gang that frequented Roussou. As we stepped inside, a bunch of guys wearing leather cuts were drinking and playing pool. A few lounged at tables, talking.

The conversations lulled and all eyes came to us.

They seemed to sense fresh meat.

“How’s it going, Bren?” the bartender asked.

It was just a formality. He didn’t want to know.

The bartender was one of Channing’s crew members. He wanted the regular customers to know we were hands-off.

I tipped my head up in greeting, pausing just inside the back door. “He around?”

He nodded toward the back hallway. “In his office.”

Jordan and Zellman moved around me, heading to one of the empty pool tables. They knew the policy too. Unless they knew the bikers, they couldn’t talk to them. Extra attention was not helpful, and Jordan’s mouth—that would’ve drawn extra attention.

My brother’s office door opened, and he stepped out. “I hear my sister’s name?”

“Yeah.” I headed for him with Cross behind me. “Hey.”

He frowned at me, then at Jordan and Zellman. “I don’t want you guys here.”

“I know, but I’m here for a reason.”

“Why?”

“I have to go see Drake, crew business.”

“Crew business? From what I’m told, he’s not crew anymore.”