Cross glanced my way, then turned to face his brother. “Why don’t you call your best friend and ask him? We are not your crew. You’re acting like we are.”

Blaise’s eyes grew cold, holding his brother’s gaze steadily. “Got your underwear twisted, bro—”

Cross went at him, and I moved, but I was on autopilot because this was nothing new either.

Blaise and Cross fighting.

I stepped between them the same time Zellman turned, his back to me, and he was facing Blaise. He shoved him back. I turned back, reaching out and catching Cross in his chest. I held him back at the same time.

He growled over my shoulder, “We’re not here to do your dirty work. I told you this before.”

I didn’t want to look because I didn’t want to see, but I could hear the smirk on Blaise’s face. “Really? Because you already did. I wanted Harper worked over, and you guys did it for me. Thank you.”

Cross went still against my hands, still and solid.

Blaise kept on, “I already worked Harper for what he said about Aspen, but every chance I get where pain can get inflicted on that asshole, on that whole house, I’m taking it. So, thank you because you already did my bitch work.”

Cross’ face went flat, and that wasn’t good.

I jerked, moving him back, and I said over my shoulder, “Let’s go.”

Zellman wasn’t moving.

I didn’t stop. Cross wasn’t fighting me, so I moved him back at a quick pace.

“Z!” I clipped out.

Zellman remained in place, and Blaise was focused on him now, his jaw clenching.

Then, in a flash, Zellman’s fist came up. He punched Blaise right in the face.

A normal hit would send a guy to the ground, but Blaise didn’t move. His face snapped to the side, that was it. He lifted a hand, rubbing where he’d been hit, and he said something back to him, something that was inaudible to us. We waited, but nothing happened until slowly, Zellman turned and started toward us. His head was down and he shoved his hands in his pockets.

As he drew closer, Cross growled, “What’d he say?”

“Nothing.” And Zellman breezed by.

Cross and I shared a look because Blaise had certainly said something.

“I don’t know what to do about my brother.”

I frowned, my hands no longer pushing him or holding him in place. They just rested against his chest, now in a comforting manner, or maybe a shared, frustrating manner, because I said, “Yeah. Me neither.”

Then again, there was a lot I didn’t know what to do about.

Either way, we both moved to follow Zellman.

From: Brenners

To: Tazsters

Subject: Hey

How are you? Tell me the latest with Race.