Page 79 of Crew
My lips parted.
Fuck you, crossed my mind.
He grinned at me, that gleam so wicked. "Not so cocky now, Monroe, are you?"
"Funny." I indicated his crew. "I came looking for someone who's not crew, and yours and mine aren't warring right now."
Alex's hotheadedness was back, but he'd picked up other habits too. Bad habits. Life-threatening habits, for myself and others.
This. Was. So. Not. Good.
"Don't do this," I rasped out.
"Do what?" He tipped his head back, finishing his beer, and tossed it off to the side. He used the back of his arm to wipe his mouth. "Call you out for being a slut?"
My head went low. "Taz needs sponsors for some committee. I'm here to help her out. That's all. Race said his dad would help."
He walked toward me with a slow swagger, his hips rotating smoothly. The guy was high and drunk, and he was either trying and failing at being seductive or he was just out and out okay with the potential-rapist vibes he was giving off. He was enjoying this.
That chilled me to the bone.
"I want to know where my turn went. You went from Drake to Race. Shouldn't I have gotten a ride in therrre fisd?" he slurred.
God, he reeked.
I was going to slice him.
My mind wanted to turn off. I knew what was going to happen. There was no out for me, which meant I had one option. Fight. Take as many of them with me as I could, but I had to think. I had to stay rational. I couldn't turn it off.
Not yet.
Still.
My mouth was so dry. My lips parted as I gulped air. I couldn't get enough. I felt my throat constricting.
That's the fear, Bren.
For whatever fucking reason, my brother's voice sounded in my head.
Even now, even in this situation, he was trying to tell me what to do.
I tried to summon my usual annoyance, but it wasn't there.
I listened to him. I had to.
Make every contact count. Be smart, but efficient. Stay strong. Clear head, Bren.
Then Cross' voice, Find your exits. Count them. Then look ahead, decide on your first targets. Think about where you strike first.
Cross' voice melded with Channing's. Clear head. Fight smart.
I didn't think when I grabbed my knife--that was automatic. But I scanned the group. I saw four gaps in the crowd, four exits. My keys were in my pocket.
I suddenly wished I had an automatic starter, but there was no need here in California. Well, except for right about fucking now.
I felt my knife in my hand. That handle fit so perfectly in my palm.
It calmed me, just a tiny bit.
