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Crew, Page 33

Tijan


  He swore, raking a hand through his hair. "You didn't know?"

  "How would I?"

  He wasn't the only one reeling. I was sucker-punched in the diaphragm.

  I didn't want him here. Ever. But especially not now, not after I was with Cross, not after we'd just had a moment. I didn't want any of that shattered, and if I knew this guy, he'd sniff it out like a bloodhound.

  "--until they get back. I have an announcement to make."

  We had to go. I wasn't going to hide from this, whatever it was.

  Jordan and Zellman were positioned just down our path, a few yards past the larger group. They knew we'd gone this way. They knew we'd return this way. As if sensing us, Jordan looked back. Z too.

  Each of them wore a blank expression, but I could see their surprise. They were as shocked as us, just guarded.

  "I know the Ryerson crew has only had a leader who's in high school--"

  The crowd shifted.

  When people saw us, they moved, opening an entire section of the ring so we had front row seats to the person standing in front. His arms were up, as if he were holding court or giving a sermon.

  With his back to a truck's headlights, his crew lined up behind him like a backdrop, stood a Ryerson I hoped I'd never see again.

  Drake Ryerson.

  Alex's brother, and my ex. The same guy who'd quit, lived with Race for a summer, and talked all about how he hated the crew system. The same guy who'd wanted to mess with us by telling Race to push for a friendship with us. The same guy who knew we wouldn't take to that.

  He still looked like Race, with the same round face, but he seemed to have aged. His face was scruffy, and he was more built, as if he'd been lifting weights in his time away. Dark hair. Dark eyes. A sneer I used to think was attractive, mixed with a twinkle in his eye, and a dimple in his cheek that he used as a weapon.

  He was an asinine fucker. That's what he was.

  He turned, mid-speech, and his eyes locked on mine. "I was approached earlier in the year by a member of Monroe's crew, and I thought long and hard about it. After finding out what my little brother had been up to, and how my cousin was now here but not joining, I decided to make an executive decision." He paused, a grin pulling at the corner of his lip. He finished as if he were speaking just to me. "I'm coming back, and I'm taking my old position. I'm taking over the Ryerson crew again. They're no longer without a leader."

  Half the group was watching me instead of him.

  He knew it, adding after a beat, "Hey, Bren."

  He stepped toward us, but faltered when Jordan and Zellman closed ranks so they were standing in front of me.

  Chuckling, he walked over.

  The show was over. It was like he'd dropped an invisible cue, and everyone began talking at once. Or most did. The few who had eyes on us and were within hearing distance, tried to edge closer. A couple girls strained their necks. Some of the guy Normals were watching too, sipping their beers as if they weren't gawking like the rest.

  He stopped right in front of Jordan and Z. "I'm not just here for her, you know. I'm here for all of you."

  Jordan folded his arms over his chest. Z dropped his head lower, ready to fight.

  "Cross."

  Cross ignored that greeting from Drake, watching me instead. His hand touched mine, and he lowered his voice. "What do you want to do?"

  "I come in peace," Drake said. "I have a gift for your crew. Your entire crew."

  I hated it, but we had to hear him out.

  Cross cleared his throat.

  Jordan and Zellman shifted, presenting Cross to my ex.

  Drake latched onto that movement, his gaze jumping from Cross to me and back again, then dropping and lingering on the hand that still brushed against mine. I felt singed, but Cross didn't move.

  "What do you want, Drake?" Cross asked.

  Drake flicked his eyes to Jordan, noting the change, but nodded. "Okay. Things have changed around here." Before anyone could respond--or growl in my case--he smiled the most fake smile I'd ever seen on his face. Then it was gone, along with any polite pretense. He stepped closer, right between Jordan and Z, and all amusement left his tone.

  "I'm back for my crew, and to take care of my family." He looked over at me. "I don't need to tell any of you that, but I am, as a sign of good faith. I know my brother messed things up, and as a further sign of good faith, I left a present for you at the top of that cliff you guys love so much. It's there just for you, just to show you things will be different under my leadership. I hope you all appreciate it."

  He looked at each of us in turn. He was wrapping this in a nice shiny paper, as if he truly meant what he was saying.

  I grunted. "We'll see."

  His eyes found mine and lingered. "Yes. You will." He stepped back. "Text me when you get there," he told Cross. "I have one more thing to add."

  It took us ten minutes.

  When we pulled up, Jordan's truck was first, pausing at the mouth of the clearing before pulling over and parking. Cross' truck lights lit the way, and we could see Drake's present.

  "What the fuck?"

  Cross texted Drake.

  His phone buzzed back, almost right away.

  He showed the screen to me. Don't kill him. Don't cause any permanent damage. Beyond that, this is my crew sending their apologies for what happened to Taz.

  This was payback for her, payback we'd never collected.

  In the middle of the lot, sitting cross-legged with his head hanging down, was Alex Ryerson.

  Drake had left his brother for a beatdown.

  This is the end of Crew, book one.

  Stay tuned for book two coming Spring 2019.

  And get ready for Heather's book, coming Fall 2018.

  More information and more reading can be found at www.tijansbooks.com

  If you enjoyed Crew, please leave a review! They help so unbelievably much!

  The idea of Crew started a long time ago. I wrote a few chapters. My agent shopped it around. No one wanted it, so I knew I was going to self-publish it, but it was set aside for other projects.

  A few months after that, I started Ryan's Bed. I wrote eight chapters, and then set that aside. (That's all explained in the back of that book!) And then eight months later, a new beginning for Crew spoke to me and out came Bren's story.

  Bren's life is similar to some of my other characters, but so not at the same time. She really is like a feral wolf at times. She yearns for family, for love, but she puts up a tough shield to break through. She snaps and snarls and she bites back, though not literally. But she's got a heart of gold for who she trusts not to hurt her, and that was the real story for me.

  I want to thank all those publishers for passing on Crew, because this might've been a whole different book.

  I want to thank my agent for always trusting me to do 'my thing.' Thank you to Nina for helping this book being seen everywhere it is! I want to thank Crystal for becoming someone I rely on so much. I want to thank Eileen, Heather, Autumn, Amanda, Christina, and Pam for helping me out anytime I popped in their private messages. I'd like to thank Elaine for always being so quick with a change in my books. And Jessica for being soooo flexible with me. I know I send you a lot and you're always amenable. It means A LOT! And thank you to Chris, Amy, Paige, and Kara. You guys catch the little details I'd never catch and your suggestions help mold my books every time. Your input is so golden.

  Thank you to Katy Evans! Woman, you literally cheered me on with this book. That time we messaged, you have no idea how much I needed to hear some of the encouragement you were giving me.

  And last, I want to thank the readers. You all have no idea how you're the rockstars. The support, the cheer, the kindness, the smiles, the happiness--it is so needed on those days where you're questioning everything. A simple post in the reader group might be a little thing to you, but not to us authors. We can't pay someone for that support, so thank YOU!

  Okay. I'm wrapping up.

>   I'm beyond excited for Crew 2. (Not the title!) I hope you guys are too! I hope, hope, hope you enjoyed this one from me.

  Tijan

  RYAN'S BED EXCERPT

  The first time I snuck into Ryan Jensen's bed was an accident.

  I'd been lying in bed next to this girl I'd been introduced to twelve hours earlier at a company picnic. My family had just moved to Portside, Oregon, from Schilling, Arizona, because of my dad's promotion, so the whole picnic had been new faces, new names, and that feeling of being the newbie on the scene. Portside wasn't huge, but it wasn't small either--maybe around twenty thousand people lived in this suburb outside of Merridell.

  Robbie would know. My brother could spit out statistics because he was the family genius. Willow was the family artist. She excelled at almost everything creative, or it seemed that way. Piano. Dance. Painting. Once, she made a six-foot papier-mache dragon that won a state competition.

  Trust me. That was a big deal. She was on the local news.

  Maybe that was when it started. Maybe she felt as if she had to compete with Robbie.

  I'd found empty bottles of laxatives in our shared bathroom, smelled the dried puke in the toilet, and a couple of times, I'd woken up to find her exercising in the middle of the night. We were the only two sisters, so it made sense we shared a bathroom. We'd shared the bedroom too until our pre-teen years, and then we got freeeee-dom! (I'm saying that in the best Braveheart yell I can muster.) I didn't know why she felt she had to compete with Robbie.

  No one could compete with that kid. He was a walking, talking, and eating computer. Robbie wasn't ever going to be normal, but Willow and me--we were. Or I was.

  I wasn't the best at anything.

  Willow had been popular in Arizona. I hadn't.

  Well, I hadn't not been popular. I wasn't in the top tier of the social hierarchy, but I was liked. Everyone knew me. Everyone was nice to me, though, thinking back, that might've been because of Willow. If someone came at me, they came at her. And she was not one to be messed with.

  Same thing with grades. I did okay. My B+ average made me beam with pride. Not Willow. It was A+ or the end of the world. There'd been talk at our old school about raising our GPA from a 4.0 to a 4.2 scale. Willow was all for it.

  Not me. That meant I'd have to try harder. No way.

  Maybe that was my role in the family. I was the slacker.

  Yes. I liked that. I'd been the slacker in the family--or maybe I was the lazy one. There was a difference between being a slacker and being lazy. One slacks, and the other excels at slacking. That seemed to fit better.

  Yes, that was me, and I had been once again fulfilling my role when I missed Peach's door and tiptoed into the wrong room. I went in search of a glass of water and got lost trying to find her room again. It was easy to do. The place was a mansion.

  I didn't realize it at the time. Both bedrooms were cool, with fans forming a breeze, and large, comfortable beds. These people were rich.

  Wait, not rich.

  They were wealthy. According to my sister, there was a difference.

  I'd met Ryan and Peach at the company picnic--or, rather, I met Peach. I assumed she was nicknamed for her fuzzy red hair. Freckles all over her face. Blue eyes. Blending. That was what she did, just like me. I blended into the crowd, whereas Willow never did. It was the same with Peach and Ryan. She blended, and her brother didn't.

  I wasn't actually introduced to Ryan, but he didn't need it. I noticed him anyway. He was that kind of guy. People noticed him, even adults.

  Golden brown hair long enough that it flipped over his face and still looked adorably rumpled, hazel eyes, a square jaw, and a dimple in his right cheek--Ryan had a face girls sighed over. Even with him sitting at a picnic table, it had been apparent he was tall with a lean build and wide shoulders. Since his shirt had flattened against his arm, it was also obvious that there was good muscle definition underneath.

  The guy worked out.

  And judging by the look on his face, he'd been bored out of his mind.

  He'd been sitting on a picnic table with two friends, not doing anything. He wasn't talking or shouting or waving his arms around. He was literally just sitting with his feet resting where people would normally sit, and he'd drawn attention. His elbows had been braced on his legs, and there was an air around him. He'd exuded a nonchalant charisma.

  I wasn't the type of girl to notice a guy and stalk him from afar. No, no, I was the type to notice a guy and then notice the hot dog stand beyond him. Willow would go for the guy, and I would go for the hot dog.

  Priorities, right?

  But even though I hadn't talked to Ryan earlier, I knew he was popular. A person just knew, and my hunch was confirmed when two girls walked past him. They'd paused, hands in front of their faces, and whispered to each other. One of Ryan's friends had tapped his leg and gestured to the girls. He'd looked, and the girls had erupted in giggles before running away, their faces flaming red.

  Meanwhile, Willow refused to come so I was on my own, sitting at my own table, feeling like a loser while I stared at all the other kids there.

  They'd all seemed beautiful or remarkable in some way. And they'd all managed to find each other, like with my little brother. He'd been at a table with two other boys and a girl. All were focused on their iPads. I was pretty sure they were speaking nerd language, and if I'd walked over, the conversation between the eleven-year-olds would've gone over my head.

  Again, I was the slacker of the family. I should be able to communicate with an eleven-year-old, but no. I'd been to other outings with Robbie. I knew the routine. He'd found his crowd, and I could tell he was happy.

  Then again, Robbie never endured what another genius eleven-year-old might.

  He was never bullied because he was smart. He was almost worshiped. People thought he was going to be the next Steve Jobs, and his classmates had caught on, already sucking up to him. Yeah, maybe there was a jealous kid every once in a while, but Robbie never talked about it. If he was picked on, I wondered if he was even aware of it.

  I wondered how things would be for him . . . after. Robbie had always seemed happy. Would some of that be gone? I hoped not--stop.

  Mind, back up here. Mental reverse, and back to Ryan again.

  I should've known something was different from the minute my head hit the pillow in his room. I felt warm, at ease, and my body relaxed. It shouldn't have. I should've remained awake like I had been while I was in Peach's bed. They said I'd be 'better off' not being alone that night so I'd been in a stranger's bed. I was tense and gripping the sheet with white-knuckled hands, replaying in my head what had happened at my new house earlier over and over and over.

  But not in Ryan's bed.

  He was as surprised as I was when we woke the next morning.

  He jerked upright. "What?" he asked, his mouth gaping open at me.

  I grabbed for the covers, made sure they were pulled tightly over me, and I gawked back at him. That was it, really. My body was still relaxed. Only my mind was alarmed, but then my mind lost the battle. There was other shit up there that I didn't want to stir and think about, so I gave in and let my eyelids droop again.

  "I must've gotten lost," I murmured.

  Ryan and I hadn't talked--not at the picnic earlier when our parents greeted each other, and not when Robbie and I were ushered into their home that night. Everything was hush-hush when we got there. Mrs. Jensen had whispered something to Peach, and she gasped, her hand covering her mouth as her eyes filled with tears.

  I looked away at that point. My chin had started to tremble, and I didn't want to start. If I started, I didn't know if I could stop.

  So there in the darkness was the first time Ryan and I talked, and it wasn't really a conversation. He looked to the door like he should tell someone, but I said, "Please don't. I couldn't sleep until I came in here. I don't know why, but I can now. I just want to sleep."

  His eyebrows pinched together. His dimple dis
appeared, and slowly he lay back down. He didn't say anything. A minute passed, and I realized he wasn't going to. He was going to let me sleep, and thankfully, that was exactly what happened.

  I slept.

  "I don't know, Mom. I woke up and she was there."

  I could hear Ryan on the other side of the door.

  "Well, I don't get it."

  "I don't either," he grumbled.

  "I thought it was weird when she didn't come back last night."

  A sigh.

  I recognized Peach's voice, but I couldn't place where it came from. Then it didn't matter. I was asleep again.

  The bed shifted under me, and I heard a whispered, "Mackenzie." A hand touched my arm and shook. "Hey. Are you awake?"

  It was Robbie. I rolled over and opened one eye. "What?"

  He'd been crying. The tears were dried on his face, and I could see two fresh ones clinging to his eyelashes.

  He wiped at one, embarrassed. "Are you going to sleep all day?"

  "If I'm lucky."

  He frowned and then glanced to the door. "I don't want to be out there alone. I don't know these people."

  I scooted back until I felt the wall, flipped back the bedcover, and patted the place next to me. "Scootch in."

  He looked to the door again, indecision on his face, and then let out a small breath. His tiny shoulders slumped as if he'd lost what little fight he had. He sank into the bed, clasping the covers tight over his shoulder, and looked at me, lying on his side. I moved closer, mirroring him so our foreheads almost touched.

  We didn't talk, but a fresh tear welled, pooling on the bridge of his nose. I reached over and smoothed it away.

  "Mom and Dad are going to be gone all day today. I checked their phone calendar."

  How Robbie could do that, I had no idea, but I wasn't surprised.

  "Why aren't you crying?" he whispered.

  "I can't."

  He nodded as if this made perfect sense. "I wish I were like you sometimes. You're the strong one, Kenz."

  Strong? Was that my role in the family?

  I tried to muster a smile, but I knew I failed. I probably looked like the Joker instead. "Can you sleep?"

  "I'll try. Can we stay here all day?"

  "I'm going to try."

  That seemed okay with him. He closed his eyes and a settled look came over him, one that resembled peace. But I knew it was a lie. There was no peace. Not anymore.