“Stop.”

Tabatha jumped backwards, skirting until she hit the wall.

She didn’t seem as if she registered hitting the wall. Her gaze was glued to Jordan and he dropped to the couch. His head in his hands, his elbows on his knees and he bent low, letting out a long and low, savage growl before he shot back to his feet.

His eyes were wild and he advanced on her. “You messed up by not coming to me, to us. That’s it. We know he told you that you had to do what you did, and that’s a crime.”

Her eyes started shining, and she began blinking rapidly.

Her face lowered.

He was across the room in two strides. Touching under her chin, he raised her head up and he kept on, speaking softer, “I’m a guy. I can’t put myself in your shoes and tell you what you should’ve done or shouldn’t have done. The only thing I can say is that I wished you had come to me. That’s it. I can only imagine you felt a certain way, a desperate sort of way that you did what he said to do so that the whole situation didn’t blow back on your mother. Right? Because that’s why you did what you did, if you felt forced to do what you did.”

Tears were rolling down her face.

I was thinking this wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation.

“I’m sorry, Jordan.” Her voice cracked into a whisper.

“I know.” He stepped back, looking at me.

Zellman had been sitting on the other couch this whole time, his own bag beside it and he watched all of it. Cross came back to the living room, a few water bottles in hand, and he handed them off to Z. They were passed to Jordan, then Tabatha.

She took it, staring at it, and she began picking at the label, just running her nail over it. Back and forth. Back and forth.

“I–Jordan told me what you guys have done.” She looked up, tears brimming around her eyes. “Thank you.”

I nodded. “We care.”

Her face shuddered.

“Thank you,” she choked out again.

“Tab.” Jordan reached for her, but she dodged him, bending to grab one of her bags. She went around. “I’m going to go to the bathroom. Excuse me.”

Jordan let out a ragged breath when we heard the bathroom door close. The fan was turned on after that.

He sank back down on the couch. “Holy fuck.”

Cross moved in, taking a seat on one of the chairs. He sat on the arm, his foot going to the coffee table.

Zellman lounged back on the couch, his leg resting on the table, too. Both were watching Jordan, and Jordan looked to me.

“I don’t know how to put into words what happened to her. I was so pissed and hurt thinking she cheated. Then hearing he extorted her? I can’t comprehend what that actually is. There’s gotta be layers and layers of shit there, and how do you unpack all of that?”

He was looking to me for answers. I shook my head. “No one has the answers for that except Tab, and honestly, I don’t think she even has them. No matter what, she should talk to a therapist and go from there.”

He nodded, raking a hand over his head. “Fuck. Just, fuck.”

Cross nodded to Zellman. “You okay? With Sunday?”

Zellman shrugged, his face tightening. “Shit with Sunday is same ol’, same ol’. She’s talking about going to Florida and living with her aunt. There’s a job she can do there, and her aunt’s willing to watch Dray during the day. I guess she’s got a bunch of cousins there, too.”

“You and her?”

He rolled his eyes to Cross’ question. “She don’t want anything from me. She’s kinda about hating men right now. She and Drake, they don’t see eye to eye—”

Cross shot me a look.

I straightened from my wall. “Wait. What?”

Zellman’s eyebrows pulled together. “What?”

“Sunday and Drake? They’re talking?”

“Yeah.” His head moved up and down. “Why?”

Cross made a scoffing sound. “Why am I not surprised?”

Both Jordan and Zellman looked from Cross to me and back again.

“This have to do with the crew meeting we needed to have?”

Goddamn Drake. That’s all that was going through my mind, but I let out a sigh. “Yeah. He called and asked for us to do him a solid. He was claiming that Sunday wasn’t letting him be a part of Dray’s life.”

“That’s not true, like at all. She calls him every day and they email. He knows she wants to go to Florida and he’s trying to keep her from leaving.”

Anger burst inside of me.

“Why would he lie?”

“What else did he say?”

I turned to Jordan. “He knows about the Red Demons, that they’re looking for a witness, said he knows who that it is. He wanted me to see if Maxwell Raith would want to get that name. He said he’d tell me to tell my dad if I’d put in a good word with Sunday to let him be a part of his kid’s life.”

“That’s all a lie. He’s firmly involved.”

Jordan asked Zellman, “You think this could be a weird way to try to control her? Manipulate her somehow?”

Zellman shrugged, sitting up and scooting to the edge of the couch. He pulled his legs and rested his elbows on his knees. “Who the fuck knows. Don’t know how, though.” He looked at me. “He say anything else?”

I shook my head, then remembered. “It was weird.” I looked at Cross. “He mentioned Harper.”

“Harper?” Jordan’s head lifted farther up.

Cross added, “Said there’s a Harper on the prison board where he was, and knew he was from Cain. He knows Harper’s son, and wondered if we knew him.”

“The fuck?”

Cross nodded at Jordan. “I know, but with Drake, who the fuck knows what he was really after.” He glanced around. “I’m assuming we’re not playing ball with him?”

Zellman looked to me.

Jordan looked to me.

Cross was already looking at me.

It was my dad, his MC, and I nodded. I think I’d already knew my decision before I even hung up with Drake’s call.

“I can’t get behind handing over a witness’ name to my dad’s MC.”

“Agreed.”

“Sounds good to me.” From Jordan.

Cross only asked, “You’re okay with that?”

I thought on that, thinking deep, feeling deep.

Being loyal to my dad was one thing, but turning over a name to an MC that I was not a part of was a whole different matter. This was a fork in the road. If we got that name, handed it over, we’d go down a path that I didn’t want to go down. I wanted to be normal, or as normal as I could be, and I wanted to do a job, have a career, and spend time with family and friends.

I wanted what I hadn’t had growing up.

“I am. Yeah.”

“And if your dad finds out that you could’ve got the name and didn’t?”

I looked at Jordan. “Then we’ll deal with it then.”

“Good. I’m more than okay with that.”

Zellman groaned, standing up. “I’m tired. I’ve dealt with my ex and her baby and I just want to sleep for like the next millennium. And I’m so behind with school. Shit.”

Jordan grinned, reaching over as he stood and tapping Z on the shoulder. “Everything said, I’m glad you’re back.”

Zellman half-growled. “We’re going to have to do some study sessions, like a fucking ton of them.”

Cross asked, “That something you want to start tonight? Bren’s heading out for girls’ night.”

Both Z and Jordan looked at me, eyebrows slightly raised.

I flushed, then I cursed because I wasn’t used to flushing. “What? I have friends.”

Jordan snorted. “Yeah. Us. And the one in the bathroom.”

I flicked my eyes up but laughed. “Whatever. I’m branching out. And there’s Hawk.”

“Right. The female warrior who provided backup once to a sorority house?”

I grinned. “Fuck off, Jordan.”

He laughed, then looked over.

Tabatha had materialized around the corner.

“Hey.” He started for her.

She shook her head, her face pale, her eyes puffy, but she held a hand up. It had a phone in it. “Jessy called. I–uh–I’m going to head to the house after all.” She put her phone into her pocket, using both hands to tuck strands of hair behind her ears. She included everyone as she said, “I really do appreciate everything you guys have done, but I think I need to be with my sisters right now.”

I nodded. “We’re here if you need us…”

Cross added, “You need anything, Tab. You know to call us.”

“I will.” She turned to Jordan. “Could I get a ride over there?”

“Yeah. Of course.” He gestured behind her. “Let me hit the bathroom, then we can go now.”

As he did, Zellman headed upstairs, Tabatha migrated over to the door. She had one bag in hand and she lingered at the door. Almost abruptly, as if she found the courage to say it, she said to me, “I’ll call you tomorrow?”

“Me?”

“Yeah. Can I call tomorrow?”

“Sure. Are you–are you okay? You want to talk now?”