My friend pinches the bridge of his nose. “So noble of you.”
“Shut up.”
“Oh, I’m Cross Lopez. I got twenty thousand dollars to lose, and I couldn’t do it because the guy wasn’t holier-than-thou.”
“Seriously, fuck off.”
“You could’ve lost then beaten the shit out of him another day,” Tyler reasons. “You could’ve followed him home and cut off his dick. Instead–”
“Iknow.” I grab my keys. “Which is why I’m going to go plead with Stanley. I think he can help…”
I’m pretty sure he can’t help. I caught a glimpse of one of the Webber brothers right before he stormed away, and it promised retribution.
Which is why I need to move fast, and Tyler is going to watch Scarlett.
Thank God for the alarm system her dad had installed. That should give us some warning if anyone targets the house. But even at the gym, the school’s main address is listed for my mail and shit. Tyler is my emergency contact. There’s no connection here…
Minus that time we spotted one of the Webbers in a truck out front.
My apprehension rises. “When she wakes up, you should take her to her dad’s place.”
“Cross–”
“Just til this blows over, you know?” I shrug. “I don’t know what they’re gonna do. Because my tab ran up a little more than the twenty grand they originally gave me.”
I glance over my shoulder. I didn’t mention that to Scarlett, and I’d rather not have her hear it by eavesdropping.
“Excuse me?”
“Scar thinks it’s just the twenty grand. I gave it to”—I make a face—“the prick when he tried to insinuate that he missed her or whatever. But then the Webber brothers basically said I had run up a tab, and I owed more like fifty.”
“Fifty thousand dollars,” Tyler repeats slowly. “Fuck me sideways.”
“You’re not my type.”
He groans. “Now’s not the time for jokes.”
“Jokes are the only thing holding me together.” My mirth drops, leaving me cold. “How the fuck am I going to get out of this in one piece? Stanley had suggested fighting–earning back money.”
“They never should’ve bet on you to lose.” He gestures. “Get out of here.”
I point to the security system panel on the wall. “Set that right after I leave.”
The whole way to the gym, my stomach is a mess of nerves. I try listening to music then go without. I can’t decide which is worse: the upbeat tunes grating on me or the silence drilling holes in my ears.
The gym parking lot is relatively full. Most of the guys with memberships come before work–or, in my case, school. It isn’t out of the norm to find me and Tyler meeting here at dawn, either. It feels, for a split second, like this is just a regular day.
But then I park, and my stomach flops, reminding me thatnope, this is going to be painful.
I pocket my keys and phone and enter the gym. Some guys cast looks my way, and a few congratulate me on the recent win. Not many know about it, and I give the ones that acknowledge it tight smiles.
My gaze goes up to the second-floor office. Stanley’s massive frame is silhouetted through the windows, and I have to think he’s spotted me.
When I make it upstairs–slowly, every muscle protesting–the door is already open.
“Come in, Cross,” his voice booms out from within.
I enter, glancing around to make sure we’re alone.
