Uppercut Princess (The Heights Crew #1)(26)

Behind Rocket, Oscar whispers, “A heads up would’ve been nice, Asshole.”

I peek at Magnum who doesn’t respond to Oscar’s comment at all. He’s too busy glaring at the two of us.

Rocket cups my face, and my stomach bottoms out. He’s far too touchy feely for someone I just met, for someone who’s staked a claim on me. The thought rattles me. I came here to take back control of my life. Not the other way around.

I peel his hands away from me, hoping I won’t get my ass tossed out a mere half an hour after I made it in. Hopefully Rocket likes girls who play hard-to-get because I’m about to be as hard-to-get as they come.

It turns out, I don’t have to just yet. Magnum speaks up. “Boss called. There’s been an update he needs to fill you in on.”

Rocket licks his lips, leaving them glistening as he stares at me. Anger flits through his gaze but it’s gone before I can even decipher it fully. “Looks like we’ll have to get to know one another better some other time, Kyla. Oscar?”

Oscar clears his throat. “Yeah?”

“Can you see to it that Kyla gets home safely?”

My hands tighten around his. “Don’t bother,” I say. The last thing I need is for people to be snooping around my apartment. I’m already paranoid about having anything from my other life there. I don’t need to have a coronary if someone like Oscar comes into my place. “I can get home by myself.”

Rocket cocks his head. “Oh, I’m sure you can,” he says, his pale blues practically twinkling. “But I take care of my own.”

A warning shiver works its way up my spine.

“I can do it,” another voice says. Without even looking, I know it’s Brawler’s. “She lives in my building.”

“Does she?” Rocket asks, smirking. The facial expression is a cover-up though. His gaze hardens again.

I keep my stare trained on him. He’s like a feral cat in that moment, letting his eyes do all the stalking.

Leaning in, his cologne coats me again. I close my eyes, and it isn’t long before my lips buzz. I squeeze them closed tighter, partly to block out what might happen and partly to keep myself from shying away if it does.

His lips graze mine. A soft caress, a barely there touch I could almost call sweet if I didn’t know who it was coming from. “Tomorrow, Kyla,” he promises, his lips still brushing over mine.

I can’t say he isn’t intoxicating. I’m stunned on my feet. Immobile. When he moves away, I sway in place while he leaves the room, calling everyone to follow him briefly.

The door closes, but I can still spy them through the glass. I mentally smack myself to pay attention. Rocket’s giving orders, his face fierce while the others nod their agreement or complacency. It’s hard to tell which. When he’s done, he and Magnum leave. Underneath all that glorious copper stubble Magnum boasts is a ticking in his jaw. They disappear down the stairs, but they must exit through a different door than Brawler and I entered earlier because they don’t cross the empty circle in the middle of the floor below.

The door to the loft crashes open. The girls in the back squeal, and it makes me wonder what they see and hear in this room. No one’s watching over them as far as I can tell, but that seems unlikely. For the biggest, toughest gang in the area, they have to be a well-oiled machine whether I see all the moving parts now or not.

Oscar saunters in. He bows slightly as if he’s an actual gentleman addressing a lady. I might find it more believable if he wasn’t wearing a hoodie with a backwards hat. “Looks like we’re tasked with keeping you safe, Princess.”

“Not that again,” I grumble.

“Oh, it’s definitely sticking now,” Oscar says, a flirty smile teasing his lips. “The Prince just left, and here you are, his new—”

“Oscar,” Brawler warns, cutting Oscar off completely.

I study Brawler. He’s put together again, very different from the guy who pulled someone else into the ring with him just so he could kick his ass. “Nice fight,” I say.

“You weren’t on the card tonight,” Oscar says flatly.

Brawler swallows. “It was a surprise fight.”

“I’ll say,” I deadpan. “I think that guy shit himself.”

Oscar turns his head to gaze at me. His eyes narrow like he’s seeing me for the first time. “You have a personality other than scared shitless?”

“She fights, too,” Brawler says.

“So I heard. Enough to catch Rocket’s eye.”

“Who doesn’t catch Rocket’s eye?” Brawler asks, laying it all out there.

A pin drop could be heard in the small room. Oscar slowly turns. It’s like waiting for the big explosion at the end of an action flick. You know what’s coming, but you don’t know exactly when it’ll hit.

The silence Oscar gives him is even eerier than saying something. To me, I’d rather see the storm coming at me than have to wait for it to suddenly appear. A look passes between them, and I get the feeling that whatever needs to be said between the two is going to wait until I’m out of earshot.

Oscar holds out his arm for me. I glance at it, dismiss it, and walk past him. “Aw, come on,” he says, good naturedly, joking, as if Rocket didn’t just push him up against a wall not ten minutes ago for touching me. “It’s a platonic arm. An arm of friendship. I don’t think you can catch sex from forearms touching.”