I nod, a small smile on my lips. My attention moves back to the crowd, settling on a group a few feet forward.
They’re dancing under the light of the stars in ripped up cut-offs and cute little crop tops, while the people a few spaces away lean against the crates drinking and laughing, having fun in joggers and tank tops.
I scan the crowd when Royce pushes into my back, speaking near my ear. “The guys in the corner, second group,” he begins. “Look close.”
I stop searching and do as he says, my awareness heightening the longer I study them.
Tension frames their foreheads and keeps their shoulders tight.
I stretch a little taller when not one but two stand at the same time, but it’s the way one grips the neck of a Corona bottle that has my toes curling in my shoes.
The guys barely push to their full height when another group breaks from the crowd, headed right for them, but before they can step up to the others, a third crew sidles in, each one draped in black from shirt to shoe.
There is no arguing, no shouting, not even an attempt at an explanation.
The bottle is set down, all mouths are locked closed, and every single one of them, from the first group to the last, make a straight line back the way we came in.
“What just happened?” I look up and over my shoulder at Royce.
“They’re as dumb as they are smart.” He shrugs, finishing off the last bit of liquor in his cup. “One of the two came here looking for the other and dared to start shit. The other was almost given no choice but to defend themselves, but when our guys popped in, they remembered where they are and what would happen if they fucked-up here.”
“So your people, they have respect, too?” I ask.
“They’re all our people.”
“But the guys who broke it up, people don’t mess with them when you’re not around?”
“Sometimes, but those are the dumb fuckers.”
“What happens to those ones?”
Royce grins. “Fed to the giant.”
A laugh from my left catches my attention and I turn to find the guy who was guarding the door, leaning just outside of it.
“Hi.”
He smiles, glancing from Royce to me. “Hi.”
“I’m Brielle.”
“I know.” He chuckles, pushing off the door, and I have to crank my neck several inches more. “I’m Andre.”
“Are you the giant, Andre?”
He laughs louder, crossing his arms as he turns his body to face us more. “You tell me.” His eyes fall over my body in a slow perusal. “Am I a giant, little mama?”
I laugh and Royce’s shadow grows larger around me.
“I mean, everyone’s pretty much a giant compared to me, so really you could be no more than average, and I wouldn’t know for sure.”
“Damn, girl.” Andre feigns wounded, his eyes wide with humor. “How’s a little thing like you make me feel dime size?”
I turn a raised brow to Royce, who watches me closely. “Yeah, I hear I’m bad for the ego.”
Royce scoffs, but his lips are pulled to the side the tiniest bit.
I look back toward Andre, and his eyes move from Royce, settling on me.
In that one instant, his body language flips.
He straightens his spine, giving a curt nod. “I was your brother’s main man, the Brays are my boys. You need somethin’, this is where I’ll be, got me?”
I step closer. “You know my brother?”
He chuckles. “Ain’t a soul out here who don’t, girl, but don’t worry. I know not to share that until it’s out.”
Royce’s breath hits my ear in the next second, and suddenly Andre turns, now focused and pointed forward. He slips right back into guard mode, our conversation over.
“One of the nine, or the one out of ten?” Royce asks.
Nine out of ten are fake...
I spin to face him, following his backward steps into the building.
“You’re not going to tell me, are you?”
He holds his hands out. “You wanna trust a dude ‘cause someone else tells you to or you want proof that says you can?”
“He wouldn’t be standing at the door if you didn’t trust him.”
“You’re right. He wouldn’t,” he says, leading me to the bar, and signaling for two of something. He spins, his back to the liquor, arms stretched out, elbows on the countertop. He looks to me. “Maybe he’s got a problem with your brother, a score to settle, point to prove. Maybe he never thought about sticking it to him, but putting eyes on you just now sparked his interest.”
“Maybe it did.” I wiggle my brows.
His frown is instant, and I laugh, climbing up on the barstool.
I scan the room quickly, a sliver of disappointment seeping in before I give all my attention to Royce again.
“Give me some credit,” I tell him. “I get it, I’ve been here for a day, but I’m not sitting here pretending to know how your world works, but I want to learn. I want you to teach me everything you’re capable of teaching.”
His features pull, but he looks away as the bartender sets down two drinks.
Royce pushes one my way, but I push it right back.
I smile at the guy, but his face remains emotionless.
“Do you have just... a cold beer?”
He nods, walks a few feet over and comes right back with a Shock Top in hand, pops the top and hands it over with a wink.
“Thanks.” I grin, turn to a frowning Royce and take a quick drink. “And since I’m willing to learn from you, you need to be willing to learn about me.”
“Maybe I don’t want to learn about you.”
“A good boss would want to know a little something about the new hire hanging around.”
“Might hate what I find.”
“Then you hate what you find.” I laugh lightly. “Who cares? At least you’d know for sure.”
His gaze narrows as if he was expecting a different response.
He’s quiet for several seconds. When he decides to ask his question, it’s in a flat tone. “Why you care if I know you or not?”
I lift a shoulder, suddenly a little uneasy under his cavernous glare.
“I mean... would it hurt?”
His tongue slips out to wet his lips and he pulls his bottom one in a bit.
He shifts until his body is fully facing away from mine, downs his drink and pushes to stand.
He walks away, but not before I catch a low mumbled whisper, “It might.”
Royce
The warehouses can be a badass place to be, the perfect place to chill and escape the assholes trying to squeeze in where they haven’t earned, especially since the remodel.
That, or it’s the complete opposite.
It can be a fucking nightmare, a pit of Bray wannabes and club chasers—depending on who you go with, who you let in, and where you hang out.
Andre does good work, decides who comes inside and who doesn’t, and for the most part, it’s only those who work for us and a few extras here and there.
Tonight, inside we’ve got a solid mix of people, half Brayshaw payroll and the other half Brayshaw High students, outside though, it’s a fuckin’ pit of random.
People who lay low in town but don’t disrespect it, people who run things, people running from things. Fuck-ups and future fuckin’ state senators.
Here, no one is more than the other.
Here, they’re equals or they’re out.
Raven steps beside me.
“So Bass Bishop’s little sister.” She tests the words on her tongue, her eyes moving to Brielle across the room.
She sits at the poker table, cards in one hand, beer in the other.
I nod. “Bass Bishop’s little sister.”
Raven does her best to read her. “She’s been looking around all night.”
“I know.” I turn my head toward Brielle with a nod. “Not sure why yet.”
We meet each other’s gazes only to lo
ok right back.
Brielle sets her beer on the tabletop, turning to laugh at something the star of the fucking night says from the seat to her left.
She responds, and Enoch leans over to whisper something near her ear.
Dumb fucker.
My eyes lift then, meeting Micah’s a space behind her, and he takes the cue, moving right in.
No hesitation. Good.
He leans forward, reaching from one side of the table to the next to say what’s up to someone, drawing attention to his right hand, making everyone laugh like the smooth son of a bitch he is, all while his left quickly skates across the longneck of a bottle—she had to go and trade out her cup.
Micah’s swift, slick, and backing away in seconds.
Raven knows this kind of shit too well and recognizes the play instantly, stepping closer.
I finish off my drink, my eyes sharp and on Brielle.
She faces forward again, smiling at the punk beside her, her hand blindly reaching for the beer she left out of reach and out of sight for no more than ten, fifteen seconds tops.
She wraps a hand around the bottle, and fuck me, my blood pumps heavy in expectation I have no business waiting for.
My eyes are glued to Brielle’s fingers as they tighten around the glass, my awareness heightening, pricking at my skin as she lifts it to her mouth.
For a split second, the cooled glass sits against her lips, but then Brielle’s eyes fall to the bottle, and she doesn’t hesitate to set it on the floor near her feet.
Raven looks to me as a low chuckle leaves me, and I meet her eyes.
I push to stand, lifting a beer from the ice bucket I had set behind the bar.
“Royce, what are you gonna do with her?” Raven’s questions got nothing to do with right now, and everything to do with the fact that Brielle is here at all.
So, I tell her.
“I’m gonna do the farthest thing from what big brother wanted,” I tell her. “I’m gonna throw her in the deep end.” I pop the top with my teeth, sliding the ridged cap along my palm, before tossing it to her.
She catches it with ease, gauging me. “Throw her in the deep end... and watch her sink.”
“Nah, RaeRae.” I spin, walking backward so I can keep our gazes locked, a small smirk pulling at my lips. “Imma teach her how to swim.”
I turn around, making my way to Brielle.
The girl knows I’m coming, but she doesn’t look up until my left hand is planted on the table beside her elbow, my body leaning over hers.
She grins when I set a fresh bottle of beer directly in front of her, but that grin turns into a small frown when I lift her retired beer bottle from the ground and bring it to my lips.
I knock it back, setting the empty glass beside her as I bend at the knees to bring us face-to-face.
She watches me closely, confusion whirling in her crazy cool eyes.
I pull my lips back, revealing the tiny pill capsule between my teeth, and whisper, “Good girl.”
Her eyes widen when I bite it open, the inside powder spilling on my tongue, a small splash of her new beer to wash it down.
Micah knows to watch the ballplayer, my brothers know to watch them all, so I stand with ease, make my way across the room for my own drink, and slip behind the satin curtained room on the right to join MacMoney and his honey.
She didn’t panic this morning when we ran her off the road, thought quick and found a weapon to defend herself.
She didn’t drink from the bottle she left unattended, aware anything could happen anywhere.
It’s to say little Bishop is off to a good little start.
Now it’s time to fuckin’ party.
Chapter 15
Royce
Maddoc comes to get me when the fights are set to start and in perfect fucking timing. My bodies starting to heat, so it’s either I turn the place into a strip club or find something else to focus on.
He glances over my shoulder. “The girl, she sittin’ with us?”
“No, no.” I tap at my chest, and my palm decides to flatten there. “It ain’t like that. This is business.”
“As in she’s going to handle your business?” Raven teases.
“No, RaeRae, she ain’t.”
“You sure?” Raven smirks. “‘Cause you’re full-on rubbing yourself right now.”
“And I’ll find someone to help me out with that later. Not her.”
“It’s a fuckin’ chair, brother.” Maddoc frowns. “Yes or no?”
“I said no, dick, and it ain’t just a chair and you pricks know it.”
He grins, pulling Raven into his chest and draping his arms over her shoulders.
After Raven got pregnant, Maddoc had concrete, above-crowd seats put in at the edge of the main circle, blocked and gated from the regular crowd who’s still allowed ringside, just not along the line of six chairs forever reserved for us.
That’s right.
Six.
As in four for my pussy-whipped brothers and their queens, and two left for me and whoever I want in the other one.
I don’t want anyone in it.
I’m a loner, a lost boy.
I’ve got my brothers and RaeRae, VicVee, too.
Little Zo and soon another little to play with.
Little.
Brielle’s fuckin’ little.
Tiny and Tink-like.
“Royce.”
“Huh?” I look to Maddoc when he snaps.
“Stop fucking rubbing your leg.”
I look down, my hands at my sides and sure as shit... rubbing.
I tear my hands away, running them through my hair, and a grin takes over.
“Fuck.” Maddoc shakes his head with a chuckle. “You’re fuckin rollin’. Want me to find Mac?”
“Nah, brother, where you think I came from? He’s watchin’, wherever he is now, and it was only half a pill, I didn’t want to fuck the girl up if she was dumb enough to drink it. I’m chill. Gonna drown it out with a couple quick shots anyway.”
“So no to the seats?”
I nod. “I’ll take Brielle up the wall or some shit.”
“Take me where?”
I whip around, Cap, Victoria, and Brielle now standing behind me.
My grin spreads when I have to look down to see Brielle.
I’m a fucking beast compared.
Hold up, she asked a question.
“Outside, Imma take you outside. Wait,” I pause. “You afraid of the dark? ‘Cause if you are, me and my brothers are good at distracting—”
“Shut up.” Raven chuckles.
I smile, and Brielle frowns between us.
“Nah, never mind. I know you’re not afraid of the dark.” I don’t realize I’ve slipped closer until the fabric of her shirt heats my fingertips. “You sleep in it, ain’t that right, little Bishop?”
She squishes her lips to the side. “That’s right.”
“How else you sleep?”
She reaches up to pat my chest, and my pulse jumps beneath her palm like a pubescent little punk, my hand flying up to keep it there, pressing it firmer against me.
Damn, that shit’s warm.
She laughs, shaking her head lightly. “You want to know how else I sleep, Playboy?”
“Tell me all about it, Tink.”
She lifts her chin to bring herself closer, but she’s so damn small, she’s still far as fuck away. “Alone.”
My family’s laughs wrap around us, and Brielle smiles.
My focus falls to find shiny, wet lips, but not just wet lips.
Thick and full ones, peachy pink with rich ridges and a bite me, baby pout.
Where’d they come from?
Better yet, where they willing to go?
Wait, what?
I squeeze my eyes shut and jerk back, shaking myself out of... whatever the fuck I’m in.
I need those shots.
Brielle tips her head. “I take it that pill you tried to kill me with is kicking in?
”
“Not kill, just horn you out a bit so you’d learn.” I grin, and her mouth falls open and a laugh. “It’ll wear off quick. Takes two to roll right.”
She flicks her eyes to the ceiling. “Of course it does.”
Brielle steps back, looking to the others.
Neither of us misses the way Maddoc watches her, the others, too, but they’re more chill about it where Maddoc wants her little ass to know where she stands—in motherfuckin’ limbo until he knows what she’s about.
It’s good, she needs to feel that divider between us and her, ‘cause it’s big.
“All right, we’ll head to the crates,” I tell him.
Maddoc nods. “We’ll meet you in here after the fight.”
Before I can respond, Brielle takes a step toward Maddoc, unaware of how Raven moves with her, pregnant and all.
“Wait, fight?” she asks.
Raven smiles now. “Wrapped knuckles, but no gloves, no gear. Just sweat and blood, like animals.”
Brielle starts to shake her head, her mouth opening as she turns to look at me, but then her expression goes slack.
“Okay,” she says.
“No, no.” Now I’m the one shaking my head and stepping toward her. “Don’t.”
She frowns. “Don’t what?”
She knows what I’m saying, but since she wants to play dumb, I lay it out for her.
“Don’t close your mouth when you’ve got something to say. Don’t back down when you’ve got an opinion, and don’t let what someone else thinks, likes, or wants have any fuckin’ lead or sway on what you do, got me?”
Her neck grows red, a small fire lighting in her eyes. “I thought you wanted good little soldiers who fall in line?” she dares.
Irritation burns under my skin and I move closer, bending to get in her face more. “You’re not a soldier, little Bishop. You’re too soft, but we’ll harden you up in time. Not sure you’ll ever get there, though, if you can’t even share what pops in that pretty little head of yours.”
“I can speak my mind fine and don’t need any coaching to do it.”
“So why bite your tongue, baby girl?”
She steps into me, tipping her head with both brows lifted. “Because there’s a difference in backing down and choosing not to be disrespectful.”
Break Me Page 15
