Page 88 of Crew
But first things first.
I dressed, pulling on black pants and a black long-sleeved shirt with a hood. Getting the clothes on was slightly painful, a fact the pills were helping. I would've been crying if they weren't working, and I knew they were because I had to try three times to lace up my shoes. Finally, I gave in and slipped on an old pair that I didn't need to tie.
Cross was waiting on the edge of the bed. He'd changed too. I didn't ask where he'd gotten his clothes. He kept a drawer here.
"I'm ready."
He stood, but his gaze skimmed over me, darkening before he took my hand and led the way. A vein popped out from his neck. Hearing laughter in the backyard, he turned to go out the front.
We weren't really sneaking out, but it still felt that way.
As we hurried to Jordan's truck, the passenger door opened. Letting go of my hand, Cross jumped lithely and soundlessly into the back. He settled into the corner as Zellman got out of the front. He paused once, looked me over, and gave me a slight nod.
He jumped in the back too, going to the opposite corner, behind where Jordan was at the wheel.
I got into the cab, having to hold my breath until I was settled.
Fuck. I hated being injured.
There was no music playing. Tonight, that felt right. It felt appropriate.
Jordan tapped a coffee drink in the console. "I got this for you, if you want it."
It was his way of saying he was sorry. "Thank you."
When he turned toward downtown Roussou, I glanced over.
"He's not at Alex's?" But as I asked, I knew that was true. Alex had told me himself.
"Called someone. He's at a hotel. I got the room number."
"His mom?"
"We're in luck. Apparently, she likes her martinis--at the Fallen Crest Country Club."
I laughed. "Why am I not surprised?"
"Our boy is alone, unless he's got company of the female persuasion." He winked at me as he turned the vehicle onto the main road. "That'd complicate things a bit, huh?"
I shot him a dark look. "Shut it."
I did not want that to be the next thing, where they teased me about Race in a sexual or romantic way. Good grief.
Then I reconsidered. We still had a few blocks to go. We were alone. Cross and Z couldn't interrupt, so throwing all caution to the wind, I braved it.
"Why do you keep insinuating he still wants in my pants? That should be over."
Jordan was quiet. His hand tightened on the steering wheel, and he inclined his head toward me with his eyes still on the road. "Are you serious?"
"Yeah."
His smirk grew. "You're actually asking me this? Don't you see it?"
"See what?"
He gestured back behind me. "He admitted it, somewhat. He hates Cross. He keeps hanging out with us, or trying after we keep trying to tell him to take a hike. He waded into a big fucking fight for you earlier. I mean, Bren. It's plain as day. How do you not see that? No guy is going to do all that shit unless he wants in a girl's pants, and even then, this guy's going above and beyond. I'd worry about you getting a stalker if the guy wouldn't have to deal with Cross first."
I was stunned. "Wha--how?"
