Always Crew by Tijan

BREN

My phone woke me the next morning.

Cross was curled behind me, one of his hands on my hip and he stiffened, groaning. “Who keeps fucking calling you at—” He looked, and then growled. The phone kept ringing, but I didn’t move. This was a small luxury I indulged. Cross would field it for me, and he did, reaching over me to my nightstand.

“What the hell?” he muttered under his breath, sitting up and hitting accept.

“This is a call from the Potomahmen Correctional Facility. Do you accept the charges from inmate—”

“Yes.”

A second later, I heard my ex’s voice coming from the phone, and Cross was glaring hard at the room. “What do you want?”

A laugh from Drake. “Can I talk to her?”

“Why?”

Even though Cross hadn’t put my phone on speaker, I could hear Drake loud and clear.

“Just let me talk to her. Please.”

He turned to me. “You don’t have to take the call. You can tell him to go to hell.”

I sighed, sitting up. A yawn left me, but we both knew Drake was calling for a reason. I had no doubt that what he wanted to tell me wasn’t what he was going to say at all. But knowing Drake, knowing the games he always played, I still knew I needed to take the call.

Simply put, it was what it was.

I shrugged but held my hand out.

Cross handed it over and slid out of bed. He went to the bathroom, and I watched him the whole walk, enjoying it immensely.

Taking the phone, I hit the speaker button and sat back. “What do you want?”

Another laugh, this one louder and more genuine. “There she is, my old Bren.”

I rolled my eyes. “I ain’t your old anything, except if you’re referencing an old regret, but I do. I truly do. I regret ever dating you, and also, why are you not dead? You snitched. By prison law, you should’ve been gone in the first week.”

Another laugh, but it was lessening. I was getting to him, or the threat had. “That’s cold, even for you.”

Except it wasn’t, because while I had been worried about getting that call, the one stating someone I used to care about had been shanked in prison, it never came. The more time that past, the more confident I became that Drake had somehow escaped certain death. Then again, that was also something he did.

“Let me guess, you had another card to hold over someone?”

An abrupt laugh. This one was short and brief, still genuine. “Something like that, yeah.”

Cross came back, then disappeared into the closet. We were in his room, so it was a larger walk-in than mine upstairs. He came back with sweats pulled on, but nothing else. Leaning against the wall, he crossed his arms over his chest.

I found myself getting distracted.

Once again.

“Why are you calling?”

He drew in a long breath. “Word is that my baby mama had my baby.”

I frowned. That’d been weeks ago. “Yeah?”

“Sunday’s not letting me see the baby.”

“Why would she? Isn’t that too early?”

“Not for pictures. Not to even be told what she named my kid. Fuck, Bren. I don’t even know if I have a son or a daughter.”

Oh. Whoa. Sunday was being cold, ice cold.

“That’s nothing to do with me.”

“That’s the point of this call. You do me a solid, I’ll do you a solid.”

See. He always had an agenda.

“How could I do you a solid?” I hissed, “And do not make an innuendo about that or I will drive there and shank you myself.”

Another laugh, but his humor was fast fading. “A call from you. If you push her to let me in, get to know my kid. Fuck, just telling me what I have would be big. What do I have, Bren? A daughter? A son?”

I looked up.

Cross was frowning, and some of his normal annoyance had lessened. A brief flare of sympathy was there. I answered, hoping I wasn’t violating some major code with Sunday (I was still learning). “You have a little girl, but I’m not saying anything else.”

He exhaled sharply, sounding loud over the phone. “Thank you. Thank you. That means… fuck. That means a lot. Thank you.”

I was already frowning, because damn, I don’t know if I should’ve told him. “As for calling her on your behalf, I need to think on it.”

Cross’ head lifted up, his chin jutting out, and he clenched his jaw. “What’s the solid you’re doing us?”

“Ahh. Of course. Lover-fucking-boy has to be in on this conversation. Isn’t it enough you stole her from me, Cross? Huh? I can’t even have this call asking to find out about my own kid—”

Cross crossed the room in two strides, plucking the phone out of my hands. “Listen to me, dipshit. Fucking tell us what ‘solid’ you’re doing for us, or I’m hanging up and we’ll not say a goddamn word to Sunday about you. Zellman’s with her, did you know that?”

“Shut up,” Drake clipped out from his end.

“Yeah. He’s there. Heard she had the baby and he didn’t feel right not being there. He’s been there. With her. Helping her. With your kid. He’s probably held your kid, changed her diapers. She’ll know he’s more her dad than you are if he sticks with her—”

“Shut up!”

A hard and feral glint shone from Cross. His lip curled up, but he quieted. “That’s what I thought. Stop dicking around and get to the point. What do you have that you think we’d want?”

“There’s word out that a certain motorcycle club that Bren’s dad belongs to is looking for someone.”

Cross met my gaze.

He was talking about the witness, the lone witness holding together an entire case for thirty warrants. Of course, Drake would find out who that was.

“And?”

Drake laughed, now sounding cocky. “And I’m wondering if you want a name?”

“Why don’t you call them yourself?” “Uh, because I think them reaching out to Sunday on my behalf would do more damage than be helpful.”

The sarcasm was heavy.

“Stop with the attitude,” I called from the bed.

“Ah. And there’s my ex speaking again. So, what’s it going to be? I’ll give you something to help out your daddy, and you help me out. An even exchange.”

“My dad’s supposed to be clean of everything, so this actually doesn’t help my dad.”

As soon as the words were out, I grimaced. I had learned. Right? This was Drake. You don’t trust Drake Ryerson. It was a cardinal rule in my world, and I just broke it. Why had I told him that?

“Doesn’t matter. One and the same. If Raith and the club keep looking for the witness, time will tell, but I’m guessing they’ll get more desperate. Even the ‘clean’ members will get pulled in to get dirty, and that’s your pops, Bren.”

Pops. Even he was calling him that name.

Cross frowned. “Why’d you call him that?”

“What?”

“Pops. Why’d you call him that?”

“That’s what he went by in here. They talk about him still.”

I frowned. Was that normal? But then again, he got released because of a dirty cop, so maybe he was more known than I would’ve thought.

“What’s it going to be?”

Cross raised an eyebrow at me.

I shook my head, saying, “We’ll have to think on it.”

Drake groaned from his end. “Don’t tell me you need to do a stupid ‘crew meeting’ about it? Or are your boys there?”

I glared at the phone because it wasn’t any of his business, then I forced myself to relax. I chided back, “No. Jordan is actually on his way to Roussou today, not that it’s any of your business. And don’t be jealous, Drake, just cause you don’t have a crew.”

He snickered. It was short and sweet. “Fine. I can wait till your boys get back. Have your crew meeting. I got phone time tomorrow morning, or I can email you with the name. Your call.”

That was it.

I started to get up from the bed.

Then, “Hey, Shaw.”

I paused, the bedcover half in the air.

Cross’ thumb had been moving to the end button. “Yeah?”

“You guys are all in Cain, right?”

“How’s that your business?”

“We got a Tim Harper on the prison board here. Word around here is that he’s big where you are. I know his kid. Can you believe that? Random, huh? What are the odds that you know him, too?”

I was up in a heartbeat and snatching the phone back. “Are you on social media? I didn’t think you could go on there from prison.”

He laughed, this one lasting long and it sounded ripe. “No, no. We can email. That’s about it, but I just thought what a small world, right? So do you guys know a Harper there?”

I recognized this new tone from him. He was fucking with us, and not giving a damn, I ended the call.

“Do you—”

Nope.

I tossed the phone onto a pile of clothes, grabbed his hand, and tugged him back to bed. He needed those sweatpants off and right now.

“Okay, then.”

I laughed, my mouth finding his, and there were no more words shared.