Page 42 of Her Crew

I bite my inner lip. “I don’t know. There just . . . is.”

“Then it’s settled,” Alec says. “This relationship is hereby formed. If we need to adjust as we go along, we will, but I don’t see there being any issues.”

And as the two men descend on my body, I just have to hope he’s right.

Chapter 23

Alec

Rolo isn’t the first person to die at my hands. I would never admit it to Tegan, but I’m the reason my stepfather is dead. Both men deserved it, and I don’t regret my actions, but I’m worried what Tegan would think if she knew.

I always assumed Tye put two and two together, that he’d known I’d been the one holding the blade that slit my stepfather’s pathetic throat as he lay passed out on the couch after a binge. That’s probably why he didn’t react much to the news that I beat Rolo until he succumbed to his injuries.

That’s why he’s my best friend.

I’m not sure Tegan would accept me the same way, though. I don’t even know how she feels because we didn’t have a chance to talk before we all loaded into the van—sans one—and headed to the next neighborhood.

Last night and earlier today seemed to revive Tegan, though. When we approached the first mansion, she rushed up and knocked on the door with much more confidence than I’ve seen from her so far. She retained that confidence at every house, and we kicked ass, ending the day with over two dozen orders . . . each.

As we skim some cash off the top and rip up the respective orders, Tegan turns to me. “What do you take the money for?” she asks.

I wrap my arm around her shoulders and swipe my hand in front of the setting sun. “Imagine this sunset, pup, but from behind the wheel of our own van. Imagine the two of us leaving a neighborhood we chose.”

“You’re saving up just to do more of this?”

“Not this. Not exactly. I want my own crew, and I want to run shit.”

“Is this all you dream of?”

“Is there something wrong with that?”

She gnaws her inner cheek. “I don’t know. I guess I just want something of my own. I’ve never had anything of my own. It’s always been someone else’s before it was mine. My clothes. My food. And this crew and the next one.”

I brush her hair from her face. “You have me.”

She nods. “Yeah.”

Women don’t run these shady operations. It’s men like Stacks and, hopefully one day, me. It’s not that she doesn’t deserve something of her own. She just can’t have that. And selfishly, it’s what I have been working toward for myself for years. All that money squirreled away. All the things I’ve dealt with. It’s all toward this one fucking goal.

And I fully intend to bring Tegan along for the ride.

On the drive to the next motel, Tegan is again seated between me and Tye. The back seat is chock-full of tension. I notice everything, like the way her legs touch ours. My thoughts get increasingly dirtier, and I wish I could kick everyone else out of this fucking van so I could take Tegan—with or without Tye. He’d be welcome to join, though, as always.

What an unfortunate time for my dick to actually work.

We pull into a fast-food restaurant, and everyone unloads from the van and heads inside. I motion Tye forward with my chin, and he follows the group. When Tegan takes a step toward the restaurant, I pull her aside and drag her toward the back of the van.

“What are we doing? I’m hungry,” she says.

I smirk. “So am I.”

“Then what⁠—”

I cut off her sentence with my mouth as I kiss her. I grab her hand and place it on the front of my pants, then rip open the fly because I want her to see the absolute monster of an erection I have for her.

“I need to have you,” I whisper in her ear. “Now.”

We don’t have long, and anyone could drive by and see us, but I don’t give a fuck. I turn her around, put her hands on the hot metal, then lower her pants and grab her full ass. She’s so fucking beautiful. She’s even more beautiful when the gasp leaves her lips as I push between her thighs. She’s so fucking tight. So warm.