Always Crew by Tijan

BREN

I figured it out.

Something had been off this whole time. I thought it was because I was working, or trying to work, and the guys were following such a different path than me. That wasn’t it.

We weren’t under threat. The administration wasn’t going after us. Other crews weren’t fighting us. Harper wasn’t even a fight, and the fraternity house was nothing. But my dad coming to town or knowing he was coming, it all fell back into place.

Now I felt like I was on home territory, and that was sad.

That was wrong, but it was what it was.

“You ready for this?”

Brock and Hawk had been keener with me when I got to work. I told them the line for coffee had been longer than normal, and no one seemed to care. They all took their coffees and returned back to the offices. Today, Trundle was back behind the register during daylight hours, and I lingered at the bar.

Hawk and Brock shared a look before Hawk gave me a smile. “For transparency, we took all the pictures down. Everyone’s pictures.”

“For transparency, my dad is coming to town.”

Both jerked in place.

Hawk’s eyes got big. “What?”

“Here?” Brock took a step toward me, his eyes fierce. His mouth looked strained. “To our town?”

I nodded, not knowing if I should’ve said anything, but I was between a rock and a hard place. My dad said he was fine. No warrant was out for him. This shouldn’t be a big deal, at least I was hoping. And then I added, “And my brother, too.”

That had a different reaction, a much different reaction.

The air in the room suddenly grew tenser, heavy. I felt it pressing on me.

Hawk and Brock shared another look, and this last one was longer and a whole lot deeper. I wasn’t even going to try to interpret it. I was going to ride the wave. Whatever was coming was coming. If that wave were my dad, my brother, anyone else, I’d be here to endure what came with them.

“Your brother?” The question came low from Brock.

Fear flared in Hawk’s gaze before she masked it, turning for the office. “Well, before he gets here, let’s try to get most of our load done.”

Brock’s mouth thinned, but he said, “Yeah.” Sending a shrewd look my way, he looked me up and down. “Suit up. You’re coming with us.”

My mouth parted. I was so surprised. And excited. And eager.

I fought Harper, but I hadn’t wanted to. This, though. This was different. This was what I could do and do it well, and feeling my heart trying to push out of my chest, I ducked my head and followed Hawk into the office.

The first jump was an old guy.

We went up and rang the doorbell. He answered, and he was taken in. There was no fight, no fuss. Said he didn’t go to his last court date because his wife never told him when it was.

The second jump was an entirely different ballgame.

Skinny lady in her fifties. Blonde hair a mess. Sores on her face. Haggard looking. Yellowed teeth. She offered to blow Brock three times. Twice was to be let free, and the last offer was because she just wanted him.

We were pulling up for the third jump, and the last time they’d done this amount in a day was my first day on the job. Hawk told me on the ride over, “We spent so much time planning on how to scout out the Red Demon members that we got behind in our other workload. We’re playing catch-up now.”

It was nearing noon, a little after when we pulled up to a white townhouse. A large truck and trailer were parked in the driveway, with another red car at the curb.

I’d been to enough of these with them, so I knew what to expect. We already had our briefing, so when we rolled up, Brock and I darted out and went for the door. Hawk, Big, Burly all took off around to the back. Everyone checked in on their radios, but there was no movement from inside. The windows were boarded up.

Shetland was behind me, running in from his truck parked on the street.

Brock was closest to the door, and he glanced back. His eyebrows raised. Was I ready?

I nodded back, and his eyebrows lowered. A firm look was in place, and he pounded on the door. “Bail Bonds Enforcement! Open your door!”

There was no movement, no answer.

He kept hitting the door. “Open up! OPEN THE DOOR!”

More knocking.

More pounding.

Shetland started tapping the side of the garage with his stick.

“There’s nothing back here. They’re either not home or hoping to wait us out,” came from Hawk over the radio.

Brock reached for his radio. “Is Gramps on the radio?”

Crackle.“I’m here.”

“What was the vehicle that we were told this bail jump is driving?”

Crackle.“A red truck. Old. Broken down.”

“License plate?”

Gramps read the number.

Brock nodded at Shetland. “Can you check?”

“That’s a white truck.”

“Check anyway. We might’ve got the wrong color told to us.”

Shetland moved back, and Brock glanced at me. His finger lifted from the radio. “You doing okay?”

Was I doing okay?

My heart was pounding. Palms were sweaty. Knees were locked, but I wanted this. I was a bull in the gate, waiting to be released into the field. Hell yeah, I was okay. I flashed him a smile. “I’m fine.”

He narrowed his eyes, giving me a second study before Shetland came up. “Yeah. It’s the same plates. They must’ve switched the plates on us.”

Brock swore, then pushed on his radio. “The white truck is the vehicle—”

Shetland’s phone lit up. He read the screen, then lifted it for us to read.

Hawk: I need the radio.

Brock lifted his finger.

Cackle.“This is Hawk.”

Brock replied, “Go, Hawk.” “We’ve got movement back here. They’re trying to sneak out. Patio door opened. He’s running around the side of the house. To the west—”

Brock and Shetland shot for the west side, darting to meet him around the end.

I held back. This didn’t seem right. If he knew to switch the truck, switch the plates, sneak out of his patio door, then it would make sense that he’d know his house was surrounded. Unless…just as I realized what was happening, the garage door behind me burst open.

A body shot out, barreling into me.

Pain slammed through me, slicing everywhere.

I hit the sidewalk pavement, and my hand was embedded in shrubbery.

Feeling my skin being pierced all over, I growled. No! That was my first thought as I looked up and saw the guy look down at me. It was the bail jumper. He was a big fucker, and no way was he getting away that easily.

Just then, I heard shouting from the distance. Vehicles were screeching to a halt somewhere, but I was focused only on this guy. He paused, staring at me.

In that moment, it was him and me, and he saw me. He saw my fight. He saw my anger.

His eyes flared, too. He wanted to hurt me, and his knee jerked up. But he caught himself. He was going to kick me or squash me with his foot, one or the other, but I was already getting to my feet and running after him.

He tore out of there, heading past his truck because he was blocked in by another vehicle.

I knew that vehicle. Recognition flared in the back of my head, and I knew who had just joined our fight. My brother and Moose were jumping out of their truck. Moose was heading to block the guy. Channing was behind him. They were going to trap him, and then someone else would take him down.

No. No. No.

This guy was mine—and I screamed as Moose started to lift his arm up to knock the guy down, “NO!”

Moose paused, seeing me hurtling after him, and he moved aside.

The stall helped. I saw it all in a split second, and my plan was already laid out in my mind.

The guy was tearing past Channing, tearing past Moose. He was heading for the street, and he was going to try getting away on foot, but he heard my scream. He saw Moose and he paused, too.

It was just enough.

I threw myself at him, pushing off the street with everything in me. I wrapped around his knees, tripping the guy. As he fell, I was already climbing up him, grabbing his arm, twisting my body around his neck, and as my back hit the road, I yanked as hard as I could. My legs wound around his neck and I had him trapped in place. If he pushed anywhere, he would dislocate his own shoulder. That pain alone usually helped keep people in place, and he was no different.

I felt his head moving. A roar came from him, and fuck—he was about to bite my leg.

I gritted my teeth, readying for the bite, but my brother was there. “You fucking hurt her, you’ll lose your knee, asshole.”

The guy paused, and I had him. I would’ve had him anyway, but Channing’s threat saved me from getting a tetanus shot and stitches. A rush of feet stampeded over to us, and we were surrounded by the rest of my team.

My team.

Mine.

I was sweating. My heart was trying to pound out of my chest. That feeling resonated with me. But I had found my place. Finally.

Brock and Shetland got to us first. The rest were a few seconds after, Hawk bringing up the rear with wide eyes and her brows arched high. She had her hand on her radio, but she wasn’t talking or holding it in place. Both Big and Burly nodded to me, grunting.

The surprise was evident on both Brock and Shetland’s faces, too.

I was still holding the guy in place, and for a second, no one moved. They took in the scene. I looked at my brother, and he’d been watching me. A small grin was there, warmth and something else flooding over his face before he shook it a second. His hands went to his own vest that he was wearing and hooked in, hanging from it.

His chest lifted up and lowered. “Okay.”

He knew. He knew this was what I wanted to do, and I felt my own smile spreading. I couldn’t wait to tell Cross about this.

Channing’s eyes closed as he continued to shake his head, but then his hands dropped, and he stepped toward Brock. “Monroe. I’m assuming you’re my sister’s boss?” He gestured to me. “We tracked her phone, saw everything unfolding as we made our approach.”

Brock moved to shake Channing’s hand, and at the same time, Moose swooped down. He tapped my arm, and as I let go, he hauled the guy off of me and shoved him at Big. Then his hand went to me and I was airborne in the next moment. I was hauled up, set on my feet, and hands were patting me down.

Channing was watching.

When Moose stepped back, he nodded at him. “No holes or cuts. She’s in one piece, just scraped up a bit.”

I looked at Moose, and his eyes were twinkling at me. He cuffed me on the back of my arm. “Did good, Little Monroe.”

I grinned and hit his chest. “Thanks.”

Hawk moved in as Big and Burly slapped cuffs on the guy and moved him to their truck. Hawk looked me up and down, doing her own check. “Damn. I didn’t know you had that in you.” She looked at Brock. “She’s like a spider monkey. Did you know that?”

He shook his head, giving me another assessing look, and then returning back to my brother. “Gramps and Bonnie said she could hold her own.”

“Damn right she can.” Channing came for me, his arms opened, and I stepped into them.

He hugged me, squeezing me, and I knew he was proud of me. He cupped the back of my head, and whispered before stepping back, “Jesus. Please just don’t die doing this work.”

I tipped my head back, a wry grin tugging at the corner of my mouth. “Back at you.”

Shared understanding and acknowledgement flowed between us.

We were both Monroes. We both came out of our home, no matter how broken it was, and we were here. We were both doing the same thing. We were at different points, but this was a commonality. I knew my brother needed the fighting, but so did I…and he knew that, too.

He cupped the back of my head one last time, and moved in. His lips pressed to my forehead. “Fucking love you, sis.”

I clasped him back, just hugging him.

Then he stepped back, letting me go, and a whole different look came over him. Edgy, wariness, and danger. It was strong and sudden, enough that everyone around us quieted, picking up something new was coming. At this, Channing grated out, “We need to talk about Dad.”