Page 90 of Crew
Not us. We lived for this shit, whether or not it was a good idea.
"Yeah." I nodded.
I saw the excitement stirring in Jordan and Zellman. Z's bouncing had upped, and Jordan began to swing his arms around in small circles.
Cross was different. He'd crouch down, his head bowed until we were ready to go. He'd push off then, and that's when we'd see the dangerous side of him, the side I loved knowing he had in him. It's intoxicating to have your best friend be that fierce about you, that protective, knowing he'd go to any lengths and you would for him too. It was goddamn addictive.
This was my crew. My guys. Mine.
We were the ones no one wanted to contend with. As we followed Jordan to the side door, I knew we were about to prove that again.
He took out a key card, winking at us. "Compliments of a friend."
Zellman grinned, but Cross kept his head down, standing right in front of me.
Two steps down the hallway, and we were at the room.
We could hear the television inside. It was low, but we could still hear it. We couldn't see any light from inside, and there'd been none from outside, so maybe a lamp could be on? Either way, we expected it to be dark. We had to. Prepare and expect the worse.
Jordan used the same keycard for the door.
He released the lock, and like so many other times, we all played our parts.
Jordan held the door open, and Cross went in first. He was our weapon, the real one. He was the fastest, the best fighter, our wolf. Jordan went next, the oversized muscle, and Zellman was third.
Third was usually my place, but not tonight. Tonight everything was different.
I shut the door behind me. We were all in. Cross was already bearing down on Race.
Race gave a small shout, but it wasn't that loud.
I saw him jump up. But as he swung, Cross dodged it.
Cross was ready. Race wasn't.
There were no odds in Race's favor.
Cross didn't hit him. That wasn't the point here. He tackled him instead, and Jordan was on him in the next second.
Zellman and I went to work. We put the deadbolt in place and turned on the bathroom lights with the fan. We turned up the television, but not enough to have the neighbors complaining.
The hotel room had a kitchenette, so we flipped the microwave on, heating up air. I spotted a fan in the corner by the bed. Moving around them, I turned that on too. Zellman had already pulled the curtains shut.
It was as loud as we were going to get.
Cross and Zellman pushed Race down on the bed, turning him around and yanking his arms up behind him. Jordan stood at the end, duct tape in hand. He wrapped it around Race's hands and then his feet.
