Page 65 of Crew
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."
"Yeah. That's the problem."
Channing kept looking behind me to where Jordan and Zellman stood. I followed, seeing the reason for his concern. Some of the bikers had congregated nearby. Sometimes this wasn't a bad thing. Most bikers were fine, but these weren't. They were from a one-percenter MC. If they targeted Jordan and Zellman to hustle--or as hustlers--there'd be problems. The biker clubs were fiercer than us. There was no line they wouldn't cross. We co-existed. That was about it, and even that line was shaky.
But this was one of those areas Channing handled for Roussou while the rest were kept in the dark.
