Jordan frowned, glancing to Zellman, who was bobbing his head after he just said that.

I frowned.

Brock’s eyes squinted.

“So,” Jordan looked back to Brock, “don’t fuck with us.”

“Alrighty, incoming freshman students. Noted. I’m quaking in my boots.” Brock was pulling all the punches.

“Oh my God—” Jordan started.

I spoke up, stopping him, “I’m not giving you the pics—it’s not even a question at this point since they are out of my hands—and you’re not going to do anything about it. Let’s all drop the pretenses here. You called me here to see if you could intimidate your way into me giving you the pictures. I sent them to Channing first thing this morning, and if you’re recording me to incrim–”

“Don’t insult me,” he snarled.

I stopped, but asked, “We on the same page?”

He was glaring at me. “You’re a freshman in college. What do you know about the wrong side of the tracks? I ran your parents’ finances. You grew up privileged.”

I sobered. He was right, but he wasn’t. In more ways than I could count.

“Considering you know Bren’s files, you know I’ll know that I’m quite aware of my privilege compared to how she grew up.” I motioned to Zellman. “Him too.”

“Hey…” Zellman frowned.

Jordan grinned at him. “He’s making a point.”

Zellman huffed. “I’m just not appreciating that he’s using me to make the point.”

“Z.”

He raised his eyebrows. “I said what I said.”

“We have a game to get to, remember?” Jordan was sounding bored.

Right. My dickweed’s game.

I jerked my chin up to Brock. “It’s been enlightening, see ya around.” I started for my truck.

“Hey.”

I looked back.

He was frowning, staring at me as if he were reassessing me. “We kept her out of the loop for her benefit, not the job. We like her.”

“She’ll appreciate that.” I moved for my vehicle.

“Also…” Jordan piped up.

I glanced back at Jordan. He was staring hard at Bren’s boss.

He continued, “She’s loyal as fuck, and she can kick ass. You fuck her over, and all three of us will fuck you over. You might not give a shit about us, thinking we’re young, but trust me, dude. We’re just the first in line.”

Brock’s gaze grew hooded, but he didn’t reply as the rest of us got in our trucks.

Jordan nodded at me. “Soccer field?”

I nodded back. “Bren’s there?”

Zellman nodded, probably to join in. “She’s with Aspen.”

Soccer field, it was.

Chapter Twenty-Six

BREN

College sports sucked.

I mean, they weren’t fun.

They were.

They were boring.

They weren’t boring.

They were predictable.

Not predictable at all.

They were quiet.

They so weren’t quiet.