Blaise snorted, leaning back on the couch, throwing his arm up on the back. “Right. Instead, you were hoping to con it out of me.” Leaning forward, elbows to his knees, he gave Jordan a hard look. The smugness was gone. “And it’s not charity. I now own something in your house. Do you not get how much pleasure that brings me? I can rub it in your faces anytime I want.”

Jordan’s eyes narrowed. He was standing against the back wall and he readjusted, crossing his arms over his chest. “We can take a knife to it, throw it out. Problem solved.”

“Good thing I took insurance out on it. I’ll just send another one.”

Jordan’s head looked ready to explode. His problem wasn’t really Cross’ brother being here. It was Tabatha, who hadn’t said a word since she entered the house. She was standing in a corner by herself, with a similar posture as Jordan, her arms hugging herself.

“Blaise.” A welcomed interruption. Aspen, Blaise’s girlfriend, had come with him. While Blaise was a jackass of most proportions, she was the opposite. Quiet. Long legs that she told me once had put her in a few modeling jobs. She was a natural beauty with willowy blonde hair and green eyes. I was also convinced she was made of magic, because while I didn’t totally understand it myself, I’d become fiercely protective of her. It seemed she had the same spell over Blaise. He was a kitten around her. And her slight admonishment worked.

Blaise eased back, throwing her a regretful look.

She patted his arm before he whipped it around her, pulling her onto his lap.

She gasped in shock, but then was shaking in silent laughter. Blaise had his head buried in her neck, whispering things to her that no one wanted to know.

Tabatha was eyeing them, a keen look of her own regret tightening her face. Her mouth pressed in and she seemed to suck in some air and held onto it. As she expelled it, her gaze went to Jordan before flicking away, her head folding down.

“Okay.” Cross took charge, sitting on the recliner beside the coffee table. He gave his brother a dark look. “Can you stop?”

Blaise grinned over the top of Aspen’s head. “Feeling sick, brother? Too much drinking last night?”

“If I’m sick, it’s because—” He rolled his eyes, turning to me. “You ready?”

I nodded, my eyes moving to Tabatha one more time. She’d been told Jordan’s reaction and had agreed to come, but when she didn’t move forward from her corner, I took in how her hands were trembling. She stuffed them farther around herself, her own arms now covering them.

Hiding.

Pain sliced through me because there’d been a time when I had done the same. The problem was that what you were hiding from never went away. It just grew in size and power. I said to Cross, my eyes on her, “It’s time.”

My own stomach was tied in a knot as I took the seat beside Blaise.

Aspen was still on his lap, but she had shifted so it seemed she was more just lounging, and he happened to be the chair she picked. Both were waiting, watching me.

Reaching forward, I took my phone and dialed Channing’s number.

I put him on speaker when he answered. “Yo! What’s up, little B?”

There was a loud whooshing sound on his end, but he sounded happy. Cheerful. Some of the tension in the room lifted just hearing his voice.

I leaned forward. “Where are you?”

“Why are you echoing?”

“You’re on speaker.”

“Okay. Why?” We could hear his confusion. “What’s going on? You sound like trouble.”

More of my tension lifted. There was only the small knot in my stomach. I flattened my hands over my legs. “I’m not in trouble.”

He grumbled, “Yeah. Let me be the judge. What’s going on? Who else is there?”

Cross spoke up, “Cross and our whole group, plus a few others.”

We heard the whooshing sound before Channing’s voice came back, “Who are ‘a few others’?”

We were all expecting a sarcastic response from Blaise, but when Cross sent him a warning look, he only held his hands up. Aspen leaned forward, saying, “Hi, Bren’s brother. This is Aspen. You remember me?”

“Oh yeah. You’re jackass’ girlfriend. Hi.”

She laughed, leaning back against Blaise’s chest and relaxing. His hands came to her hips as he tipped them both forward. “Aspen said I had to be nice to her brother’s friends. So this is me being nice.” He flashed Aspen a grin before pressing a kiss to one of her temples, brushing a strand of her hair back. The entire gesture was loving, tender.

Tabatha made a sound, her eyes wide. Her mouth parted in a surprised grunt. “How many brothers and sisters are there in this group? This is becoming ridiculous.”

Blaise’s eyes narrowed.

Aspen covered his hand, speaking before he could, “Channing is Bren’s brother. Blaise is Cross’ brother. And Channing is friends with my brother. It’s not that difficult to follow.”

“Who is your brother?” Tabatha shot back. “Please tell me his name doesn’t start with a B or a C. Can we get some more Ts in the mix?”

Aspen frowned. “My brother’s name is Nate.”

Channing called from the phone, “Is this call about Nate?”

Aspen looked to me. Cross looked to me. Everyone looked to me. Well, except Blaise. He was only focused on Aspen, drawing a circle on the back of her neck and ignoring the rest of the noise.

Okay, then. Seemed I was in charge.

I started, “We’re calling because we need to run something by you, see if you might have an idea how to handle it.”

“Okay, but first who’s the other chick? The bitchy sounding one.”

Zellman snorted, his head looking firmly toward the floor.

Jordan even laughed at that.

Blaise was ignoring us.

A choked sound rippled from Tabatha, and that seemed to get her free from the corner. She came forward a few steps, and her hands loosened, falling down but still holding onto the other wrist. She was half-hugging herself. “My name is Tabatha Sweets and I’m the reason for this call.”

Silence.

Channing said, “Okay? Look. I’ve got a bounty in my truck trying to kick out the windows and piss on my men. I’ve stepped away from them while they’re being railed by the bounty’s fucked-up family. Get to the point or I’m ending this call and calling my sister later to talk to her alone. Got it?”

Tabatha didn’t respond right away.

Channing wasn’t down with that. “Start talking. Now!”

She jumped forward. “My father is Henry Sweets.” She stammered to a stop.

A part of me was appreciating this moment because I’d seen Tabatha say a lot of things, but rarely when she was flustered about how to respond. Pissed. Happy. Feisty. Scared. But this, when she seemed just flummoxed, and yes, I was preening that I had used both of those words just now, but that’s what she was. She was flustered by my brother.

I was loving it.

“I know your dad. Is that why I’m still standing here waiting to hear the reason for this call?”

I was really loving this.

Tabatha blinked rapidly. Her hands came undone and she wiped them down her face. “Uh—yes. Yes, sir.”

Channing groaned. “Do not let my sister hear you call me sir. I will never hear the end of that.”

I chirped up, grinning, “Too late.” A pause. “Sir.”

He cursed into the phone. “Bren, you start with that and you don’t want to hear what I’ll start calling you back.”

Yep. I loved my brother. A lot.

I just laughed. “Just hear her out and stop trying to scare her. She’s had a hard time.”

“Why don’t you summarize it for her, hmm? I’m not lying about my guys and my bounty right now. I really don’t have the time.”

I raised my eyebrows at Tabatha and she nodded, stepping back into the corner, her shoulders falling down again. She looked almost relieved.

“Tabatha’s dad took out a bad loan to a guy named—”

Blaise spoke for this one, “Timothy Harper, Senior. He owns some restaurants in LA, but also some—”

Channing cut in, “Strip clubs. Yeah. I know of him. He has a strip club that’s on the outskirts between Roussou and Frisco. He’s got some illegal connections. Bren, what the fuck?”

I frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re mixed up in this?”

Oh. “Tab is a friend. The issue we have is that—”

Tabatha remained in her corner, but spoke up, her voice shaking, “I overheard my dad on the phone. I ran home one day. It was a quick trip. He didn’t know I was coming home and he was yelling at someone on the phone. My mom was gone, but I needed—”

“It’s okay.” Channing was more soothing now. “You don’t have to explain what you went there for. Just tell me the bullet points.”

She closed her eyes, both sides of her mouth turning down. Whatever she’d endured over the last two months had taken a toll. I noticed that she had lost weight, but I hadn’t really took note of it. I hadn’t given it any thought, but seeing her now, really seeing her, she looked as if two gusts of wind could blow her over. That was not the Tabatha Sweets I knew from school.