They’re dancing under the light of the stars in ripped up cut-offs and cute little crop tops, while the people a few spaces away lean against the crates drinking and laughing, having fun in joggers and tank tops.

I scan the crowd when Royce pushes into my back, speaking near my ear. “The guys in the corner, second group,” he begins. “Look close.”

I stop searching and do as he says, my awareness heightening the longer I study them.

Tension frames their foreheads and keeps their shoulders tight.

I stretch a little taller when not one but two stand at the same time, but it’s the way one grips the neck of a Corona bottle that has my toes curling in my shoes.

The guys barely push to their full height when another group breaks from the crowd, headed right for them, but before they can step up to the others, a third crew sidles in, each one draped in black from shirt to shoe.

There is no arguing, no shouting, not even an attempt at an explanation.

The bottle is set down, all mouths are locked closed, and every single one of them, from the first group to the last, make a straight line back the way we came in.

“What just happened?” I look up and over my shoulder at Royce.

“They’re as dumb as they are smart.” He shrugs, finishing off the last bit of liquor in his cup. “One of the two came here looking for the other and dared to start shit. The other was almost given no choice but to defend themselves, but when our guys popped in, they remembered where they are and what would happen if they fucked-up here.”

“So your people, they have respect, too?” I ask.

“They’re all our people.”

“But the guys who broke it up, people don’t mess with them when you’re not around?”

“Sometimes, but those are the dumb fuckers.”

“What happens to those ones?”

Royce grins. “Fed to the giant.”

A laugh from my left catches my attention and I turn to find the guy who was guarding the door, leaning just outside of it.

“Hi.”

He smiles, glancing from Royce to me. “Hi.”

“I’m Brielle.”

“I know.” He chuckles, pushing off the door, and I have to crank my neck several inches more. “I’m Andre.”

“Are you the giant, Andre?”

He laughs louder, crossing his arms as he turns his body to face us more. “You tell me.” His eyes fall over my body in a slow perusal. “Am I a giant, little mama?”

I laugh and Royce’s shadow grows larger around me.

“I mean, everyone’s pretty much a giant compared to me, so really you could be no more than average, and I wouldn’t know for sure.”

“Damn, girl.” Andre feigns wounded, his eyes wide with humor. “How’s a little thing like you make me feel dime size?”

I turn a raised brow to Royce, who watches me closely. “Yeah, I hear I’m bad for the ego.”

Royce scoffs, but his lips are pulled to the side the tiniest bit.

I look back toward Andre, and his eyes move from Royce, settling on me.

In that one instant, his body language flips.

He straightens his spine, giving a curt nod. “I was your brother’s main man, the Brays are my boys. You need somethin’, this is where I’ll be, got me?”

I step closer. “You know my brother?”

He chuckles. “Ain’t a soul out here who don’t, girl, but don’t worry. I know not to share that until it’s out.”

Royce’s breath hits my ear in the next second, and suddenly Andre turns, now focused and pointed forward. He slips right back into guard mode, our conversation over.

“One of the nine, or the one out of ten?” Royce asks.

Nine out of ten are fake...

I spin to face him, following his backward steps into the building.

“You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

He holds his hands out. “You wanna trust a dude ‘cause someone else tells you to or you want proof that says you can?”

“He wouldn’t be standing at the door if you didn’t trust him.”

“You’re right. He wouldn’t,” he says, leading me to the bar, and signaling for two of something. He spins, his back to the liquor, arms stretched out, elbows on the countertop. He looks to me. “Maybe he’s got a problem with your brother, a score to settle, point to prove. Maybe he never thought about sticking it to him, but putting eyes on you just now sparked his interest.”

“Maybe it did.” I wiggle my brows.

His frown is instant, and I laugh, climbing up on the barstool.

I scan the room quickly, a sliver of disappointment seeping in before I give all my attention to Royce again.

“Give me some credit,” I tell him. “I get it, I’ve been here for a day, but I’m not sitting here pretending to know how your world works, but I want to learn. I want you to teach me everything you’re capable of teaching.”

His features pull, but he looks away as the bartender sets down two drinks.

Royce pushes one my way, but I push it right back.

I smile at the guy, but his face remains emotionless.

“Do you have just... a cold beer?”

He nods, walks a few feet over and comes right back with a Shock Top in hand, pops the top and hands it over with a wink.

“Thanks.” I grin, turn to a frowning Royce and take a quick drink. “And since I’m willing to learn from you, you need to be willing to learn about me.”

“Maybe I don’t want to learn about you.”

“A good boss would want to know a little something about the new hire hanging around.”

“Might hate what I find.”

“Then you hate what you find.” I laugh lightly. “Who cares? At least you’d know for sure.”

His gaze narrows as if he was expecting a different response.

He’s quiet for several seconds. When he decides to ask his question, it’s in a flat tone. “Why you care if I know you or not?”

I lift a shoulder, suddenly a little uneasy under his cavernous glare.

“I mean... would it hurt?”

His tongue slips out to wet his lips and he pulls his bottom one in a bit.

He shifts until his body is fully facing away from mine, downs his drink and pushes to stand.

He walks away, but not before I catch a low mumbled whisper, “It might.”

Royce

The warehouses can be a badass place to be, the perfect place to chill and escape the assholes trying to squeeze in where they haven’t earned, especially since the remodel.

That, or it’s the complete opposite.

It can be a fucking nightmare, a pit of Bray wannabes and club chasers—depending on who you go with, who you let in, and where you hang out.

Andre does good work, decides who comes inside and who doesn’t, and for the most part, it’s only those who work for us and a few extras here and there.

Tonight, inside we’ve got a solid mix of people, half Brayshaw payroll and the other half Brayshaw High students, outside though, it’s a fuckin’ pit of random.

People who lay low in town but don’t disrespect it, people who run things, people running from things. Fuck-ups and future fuckin’ state senators.