That was the greeting from the guy in the green polo. He announced it as if it were this great big proclamation we all needed to tremble from. Then his eyes went right to me, and they grew hard. “But he did.”

The pink polo shirt guy bristled, his hand jerking into a fist before he stuffed it in his pocket.

“Harper talked, huh?”

The guys looked at Zellman. The bristling guy’s eyes widened a fraction of an inch. He shifted back as if he’d not been expecting that from Zellman, or that Zellman would be the one to even speak first.

The green guy raised his chin up. “Thought we were cool?”

Ahhh. Now I got it. Zellman must’ve partied with these guys at some point.

Zellman’s eyes were cold. “This is my crew.”

Just like that. That’s all he said, but his sentiment was noted. His crew came first. Always.

Cross took a breath and stepped forward. “You came here. You said what you said. I’m guessing that was it?” His head lowered. “Or is there more you want us to know?”

The two guys looked at me. They seemed torn.

Cross’ eyes narrowed. “I’m going to be honest. I’m not really sure the point of you guys telling us this?”

That was true. If Harper talked, why were they here? Why not the cops ready to arrest us? Or if there was some other ramifications by them being here and the guys kept looking at me. I didn’t know if that meant Harper told them I’d been the one to beat him up? Would a guy like that willingly admit he got his ass kicked by a female? I couldn’t read these guys, but they looked like they were expecting me to be fearful of them. Or nervous, maybe.

I had to sigh.

These guys really did not know us.

I was probably just making broad assumptions, because who knew if these guys were actually like Harper? Zeke Allen also seemed on the same path as them, but again, he was a stay-tuned sort of situation and things could go sideways with that dude any day of the week.

I tuned back in, realizing that both Cross and Zellman caught on that I was not participating in the conversation. Both were frowning a little at me, and Zellman was now saying, “...we’ll be in touch, how about that?” Oh, yes. I missed a lot. Zellman’s sarcasm could cut a brick. “Thank you and have a great day.”

The two guys shared a look, both seemed confused.

Their whole tough attitude had faded. The bristling guy was no longer bristling and his hand came out of its pocket. It wasn’t fisted anymore either.

They had no idea how to handle us.

Okay. I was about to educate them. “Guys.”

All heads turned my way.