someone wanted to protest. Everyone fell in line, listening to him with ease. They respected him. Even Shetland, who winked at me as I headed outside and veered toward Bonnie and Gramps’ truck.
The bell above the door rang behind me, and I heard Brock’s voice a second later. “No, Bren. You’re with me this time.”
I stopped, skimming over the group.
That’s when I saw Hawk already heading for Gramps’ truck as she gave me a big grin and a wave.
I faltered.
That wasn’t a good big grin.
Brock walked past me, nodding to the side of his truck.
Shetland was in the back, and as I got in, he was rifling through some paper.
Brock got in behind the wheel, putting his coffee in the middle compartment. He plucked out another emptied cup and tossed it into the trash. “There you go.”
I glanced at Shetland’s coffee, which he was holding in one hand.
Brock spoke, “He’s got a thing back there to put his coffee in.”
Alrighty then.
I climbed in, shutting my door and grabbing my seatbelt.
We took off and Brock said after we traveled a block, “So…Bren.”
Uh-oh.
The realization settled in my chest.
Hawk gave me an initial grill and everything had gone smoothly after that. Until this. Until I learned that Brock was the real leader of this group and so, of course, they’d all been waiting for his moment.
I prepared myself, having a faint assumption what was coming my way.
He started with, “I read your file last night.”
Lovely.
His voice was smooth, too smooth. “Your mother died when you were young. Your dad went to prison. Your brother is fast making a reputation for himself in our circles. Saw the first episode of that documentary, too.” He was turning right, but glanced at me from the corner of his eye. See. Smooth. He knew exactly what he was doing. “I reached out to a friend of mine. Know her from school. She teaches in Roussou now.”
I glanced at him, surprised.
He gave me a knowing grin. “Small world, right?” He looked back to the street. “I called my friend up last night and she gave me a bit of history about that school, the crew system. Your crew. You. She knows your brother, because the only one of us who has actually met your brother is Gramps. The rest of us only know of Monroe. My friend told me that to her knowledge, a Bren Monroe was never planning on attending college.”
What the fuck?
I kept a mask on my face, but I was frowning. I was frowning a whole bunch on the inside. I was scowling, actually.
“So, here I am. I’m the one who makes sure everything and everyone runs smoothly in our group. I take into account weaknesses, strengths, personalities. I don’t like having outliers or someone going off-book. You know what that means?”
This guy was starting to get on my nerves.
I answered, “I told my spiel to Hawk–-”
“Yeah. She told me.”
And he didn’t sound happy by my response.
Too bad.
I kept on, “The teacher I stabbed came at me and put his hands on my friend. But I did my time, and I’m rehabilitated.”
“You also have an extensive history of violence, which you just referenced.”
Well, crap.
“I can handle myself.”
“We ain’t the cops. We don’t have the authority they have, and even then, they get mouthed back. People don’t like getting hauled in to jail by us. If they miss a court date, there’s a reason. They’re avoiding going back, and they’re either stupid and running or they’re stupid and thinking they’ll fall through the cracks. We pick them up and they don’t roll out the red carpet for us. I need to know that if a guy says the wrong thing to you you’re not going to go maverick on us. Put a knife in someone as payback.”
Shit. That was my reputation?
I fought back if I was attacked, or if someone went after my loved ones. That was my rule.
Right?
But I was embarrassed.
I was shriveling up inside.
I spoke, making sure I was saying it clearly and strong, “Rules are different in the real world. I don’t know this world, but I know it’s not the same as Roussou High School. There aren’t crews like we had back there. You don’t have to worry about me going rogue.”
He was driving, but glancing over, weighing my words.
It still stung. That’s what he thought of me, that I was some hothead who just went off on people, and it stung even more because … was I? Had I done that