“You heard me.” I moved forward an inch. “You’re going to stand here, and toss out threats? Do it. Course, you do that, and you not only piss off me and my crew, but you piss of Bren’s brother and his entire company and Bren’s dad. From what I heard, Raith did something for Channing because of his dad. You don’t think he wouldn’t do something if you threatened Monroe’s daughter? Because of her connection to their MC? Yeah. You don’t want to do that. You’d also hurt Bren. She likes you guys. She likes working with you guys, if you’d only give her a chance.”

He’d gone still as I talked, and stiller and stiller until he wasn’t moving an inch. When I was done, he closed his eyes. One second, then they opened, and he coughed. “I think I’m handling this wrong.”

I snorted. “I’m thinking that’s a no-brainer.”

His eyes narrowed. “I need those pictures deleted off your phone.”

I waited a second. “I already sent them to Channing.”

“You WHAT?!”

He came unhinged now, jerking away from his truck, but he caught himself. Though, that might’ve been because Jordan’s truck swung into the parking lot at that moment. Zellman jumped from the back before it stopped, coming to a running stop beside me. Jordan wasn’t far off, his door slamming shut as he strolled around his truck.

“Well…on that note,” I indicated to them. “My ride’s here.”

Brock was shaking his head, looking at the ground. His hands were on his hips, and a grumbling sound came from him. “Do you even know what you did? Do you even care?”

“I sent mug shots from one bounty hunter to another bounty hunter.”

“You sent surveillance pictures to the same fucking people being watched. That’s what you did.” A vein was sticking out on the side of his neck. He was getting red.

“No.”

“YES!”

“No,” I shot back, fierce. “Channing’s not like that.”

He scoffed, still shaking his head. “The son of our mark? Yeah, right.”

“Screw off,” Jordan spoke up.

Zellman jerked his chin up. “Back up.”

His eyes narrowed to slits, taking in both of them. “Right. What great friends you guys are. So big and tough, right? You don’t know—”

“Like we don’t know what goes on in the world?” Jordan stepped forward, his head lowered and cocked to the side, but his eyes firmly on Brock. “You serious? Your research is worth shit then. We’re from Roussou. We don’t have the white picket fences or the fancy zip codes. You fight to survive there. You don’t—”

“Well…” Zellman cocked his head to the left. “Some do.”

Jordan stopped, his eyes flicking up before he kept on, “Anyway, we ain’t the sheltered bitches you think we are.”

“I grew up in a trailer.”