Always Crew
Chapter 17

BREN

There was a raid on a Red Demons’ warehouse.

That’s what my dad explained. He wasn’t involved, but a lot of the Red Demons were, and there were thirty warrants out for their arrest. Thirty. Only four had been captured in the raid, and two were big wigs in their entire network. One was my dad’s friend, the President of the Red Demons, Maxwell Raith, and their Vice President, Ghost. I was assuming that wasn’t his real name, but it’s what my dad said. Max and Ghost. They were the important ones and the ones who every cop and every bounty hunter in the tri-state area were all gunning for.

“Dad, I thought they were by Roussou? In Frisco.”

“Nah, honey. They’re growing fast. They’re all over. Was just in Texas, last I heard, but now I’m guessing they’re back.” He paused, then saying, almost shy, “Your brother tells me that he got a job for you at a bounty hunting business in Cain. That’s real good. I think you’ll fit right in there.”

I had stopped breathing when he said that to me.

My dad.

I never saw him when he was in prison. I didn’t talk to him during the trial, not that there was much of a trial. He fought against one of the charges, but plead guilty to the majority of them. The trial had been on his time served.

He thought I’d fit in at a bounty hunting office.

That meant, well, I didn’t know what that meant to me, but I was feeling something. I must’ve because I had a big ball of emotion in my throat and I couldn’t talk for a full thirty seconds

“Honey? Bren?”

A call was coming in from Shetland.

I coughed, clearing my throat. “I gotta go, Dad. Bye.”

“Bye, honey. I lo—”

I ended the call, switching over to the other one. “Shet—” I couldn’t talk. Dammit.

“Where are you?”

“Lunch,” I said. I was still in my truck.

“That better be code for you’re getting our lunch? Right? Because it’s one-thirty and we’re all hungry.”

“Yeah.” Cough. “Yeah. I’m here, just coming in now.”

“Good.”

I could imagine his scowl. I didn’t care.

I just talked to my dad on the phone. My dad. On the phone. Not in prison, through the prison phones, or in their visitation room. On the phone like he was out and about, like a normal person, and he was. I could’ve driven three hours back and gone to see him. Face to face. In person.

Tears were rolling down my face. I didn’t know why. Shit. I couldn’t have that.

Cursing, shoving thoughts of my dad out of my head, I put the car in gear and gunned the engine. If I was late, Shetland would be up my a*s. Once the lame pick-up lines stopped, he had turned into a domineering jackass.

But, driving over, my dad …

I talked to my dad.

When I got out of my truck, I didn’t allow myself to think about how I could’ve been talking to him for the last two months. Nope. I didn’t let myself go there. Not yet.

I wasn’t ready.

I walked in carrying their bags of food with a forced grin, and Shetland gave me a double take. I must’ve looked stupid enough that he just grabbed the food, gave me a glare, and stalked into the office. The door slammed behind him.

I didn’t care about that either.