Uppercut Princess (The Heights Crew #1)(67)

That’s when I realize how fucked I am. No wonder why these guys call to me. I’m exactly like them.





23





The doorknob rattles. Oscar and I break away from each other like we’re both on fire and we don’t want to get burnt. Actually, that should’ve been the reason we shouldn’t touch. We’re both playing with fire, and we know it.

Brawler stomps into the room. His face is pure viciousness, but it falls when he sees the both of us there. “Hey,” I say, my voice rising several octaves.

Brawler glances between the two of us. Confusion riddles his features, but then it’s like he has a moment of clarity before the clouds roll in again.

My heart thumps like mad. It’s beating a rhythm of Why? Why? Why? Somehow, Brawler and Oscar have bored a hole into my skin. They’re both lost, sad, angry. They’re both stuck in a place they shouldn’t be, whether they know it or not.

“I take it you heard?” Oscar asks.

A fierce look crawls over Brawler’s face again. His muscles pull taut. “All I know is I got a call from Johnny asking me to train Princess.”

Oscar snickers. “Let’s not pretend anymore, dude. You fucking like her. It’s obvious. You may have even done shit.” Oscar glances at me for confirmation.

I swear I stop breathing. Irrationally, I wonder if Johnny has this place bugged. Or is that irrational? It sounds exactly like something he’d do in an effort to keep me safe. Then again, the guys he chose to keep me safe have been doing more than that. They’ve been working their way into my life.

Brawler strides forward. It’s like watching two boulders collide. He runs into Oscar and pushes him against the wall. “Do not fucking joke about this, Drego. I swear to fucking God.”

Oscar looks away, bored. He catches my eye and winks.

My nerves tear apart even if I do think he’s downright sexy winking at me in the middle of a fight. “Stop,” I shout.

Brawler looks over at me. He must mistake my gaze because he steps away, shaking his head. “You like him?” His disbelief is written all over his face.

“Hey,” Oscar says. “I’m not so bad. Never had any complaints before, actually.”

My brain feels like it’s buzzing with flies. I have so many things to concentrate on, but I can’t pick one and stay with it. Just overall, there’s a sense of foreboding lingering everywhere. Can I confess to this? It seems like it would be so easy.

Brawler’s hands turn to fists. I want to walk away. To escape. I don’t want to have this conversation, and I definitely don’t want to be having this conversation right now. Not just after I met my parents’ murderer and found out that in order to get on his good side, I’m going to have to fight a rival gang member for overall territory.

Both of them stare at me. Like a spotlight has been turned toward me, heat creeps over my skin, prickly and uncomfortable.

“Let’s not talk about this right now.”

“Fuck that,” Brawler says. He’s seething. “I want to talk about this now.”

Oscar shoves him out of the way. “Can’t you see she’s upset? Something about meeting K today threw her off.”

“It’s probably the fact she has to fight one of Fonz’s fighters. What the fuck? Did no one stick up for her?”

“We all did, fucker,” Oscar grits out. “Even Johnny. For whatever reason, K was dead set on having her do it. I don’t fucking know why.”

Oscar twists behind him, looking at the clock. His shoulders deflate. “I have to go,” he says. His gaze searches mine as if he’s wondering if I’ll be pissed if he goes.

I wave him away. Never. He loves football, and I would never stand in the way of it. Not like the Crew has. It’ll actually be nice if I can be alone, too. Even though it’ll never happen now. I need time to think. “Go. Good luck. Make lots of…plays,” I say, unsure of myself. I’ve never had feelings for a quarterback before.

Oscar moves over to me, dropping a chaste kiss on my cheek. Even for how short it is, it makes my breath catch.

“Where the fuck are you going?” Brawler demands. His voice has kept that same perturbed inflection since he walked in.

“My game.” Oscar moves to the door and starts to open it. Before he leaves, he turns back. “Don’t get so fucking pissy, Brawler. I’ll be around to help. Don’t worry. I won’t let you have all the fun with our Kyla.”

Brawler growls, which just pushes Oscar that much more.

“Love the new tat, by the way.”

“Eat a bag of dicks.”

Oscar’s laugh lingers in the room after he’s gone. Or maybe the sound just keeps ringing in my head. It was nice to hear it, especially confronted with a very pissed off Brawler.

“So you can officially help me train now,” I say, trying for light-hearted.

It doesn’t work. The wings of his light and dark angel tattoos move with the rapid beat of his pulse.

“What the fuck is going on?” Brawler asks. The anger drains from him and all that’s left is someone withering under uncertainty. “I like you. A lot. It takes a-fucking-lot to say that, and I know you’re off limits and I shouldn’t be pissed that just when I needed you, fucking Johnny swooped in. He slept with you, didn’t he? He stayed the night in your bed while I’m down the fucking hall thinking of a thousand different ways we can leave this fucking place. Of all the fucking things I want to do to you when we leave this place.” He runs a hand down his face. “Oscar?” He shakes his head like he just can’t believe it. “I know you can’t help Johnny, but Oscar? I thought—” He clears his throat. “At the risk of sounding like a whiny bitch, I thought you liked me, Kyla. Me.”