The guys around the table laugh.
“You groaned. What did you do this time?” my nosey brother asks.
“Who said I did anything?”
“Shit, E. We all know you’re reckless. I’m not buying the whole not feeling well bullshit. The tracking app”—Gage looks directly at José—“doesn’t lie. What the hell were you doing in Alexandria?”
I meet Gage’s glare. “I went to Crimson, okay?”
I’ve lied and kept secrets from Ty and the guys I call my family, though we’re not related by blood, for so long that it’s time I come clean.
“What the fuck, Ever?” Ty stands and smacks his palm on the table.
“Ty—”
He lunges over the narrow dining table, grabs my arms, and yanks me out of my chair. I gasp in shock. Ty is never this rough with me. I’m his little sis, his only sibling, and the apple of his and my father’s eyes. I can do everything wrong, and they’ll ream me out and forgive me in the same sentence.
“I told you never to set foot there. Why would you disobey my order? Our order?” He sweeps his gaze over the room of men. His crew. Their crew. His and José’s.
The guys grumble. Gage won’t look at me. Year after year, I’ve continued to disappoint him with my recklessness and impulsiveness.
“I did it in Carlos’s memory.” I tug my arms from his hold and rub where Ty grabbed me. “He said music and dance have the power to transcend violence and hatred. I know how much you and the crew hate Crimson and its owner.” I sit. “Believe me, I kept my eye out for him, but I didn’t see anyone who matched Dominic Costello’s picture from the club’s website.” He looks like an older version of Antonio Banderas.
“That’s because he’s not the owner.”
“What?” What Ty tells me doesn’t make sense.
“Dom is the puppet. Someone else is pulling the strings. Sanchez, tell my sis what you found.” Ty tips his head at the guy sitting across from me before he directs his next words at me. “Sanchez infiltrated the club’s payroll. He works there as a bartender.”
“Were you working last Friday?” Crap, what if Joey saw me? “I didn’t see you.”
“Nah, I asked for the day off to honor Carlos.”
His gaze on mine doesn’t waver. I tip my chin and keep eye contact. Give these guys an inch and they will take your soul. Joey shakes his head and laughs. “Mi princesa, you are something else.”
“A something else who is in deep shit.”
I cluck my tongue. Ty doesn’t let up. If I am impulsive, he is persistent.
“I’ve been there five months, and it’s the same guy giving orders. Tall. Ripped. Black hair. Bright green-bluish eyes.”
“Sounds like you have a thing for the dude.” Miguel makes an obscene gesture, jamming his thumb against his mouth as he blows out one cheek.
I roll my eyes.
“Nah, man, but the women—the women dig him. He leaves with one on the nights he’s there. Tall and skinny, no tits. Short and skinny, big tits. Curvy, huge tits. It doesn’t matter what shape or size they are. He likes them all.”
“So, he lives life one woman at a time,” I interject. “Good for him for living his life to the fullest. Hopefully he’s gloving up every time.” I shrug.
The guys’ eyes widen before they whoop and holler.
“The mouth on your baby sis, man.” Miguel slaps Ty’s shoulder.
Ty shoves him. Miguel shoves harder.
“Fight, fight, fight!” the guys chant. Laughter erupts around the table. I join in.
Ty’s not having it. Did I mention he is persistent?
