Page 33 of Freak
One of his own had done that?
“What thefuck,” he muttered and reached for the phone.
Kellen pulled it back. “It’s not mine. I had nothin’ to do with it. I’m in a group chat with my brother and nephews and a few other guys, and I guess the younger guys are in a chat of their own. Jalen sent this out yesterday, and he sent it in the wrong chat. I wanted to tell you myself and get on top of it, before we got another Gary Prentiss situation on our hands. What they did was shitty, but it wasn’t any big attack, like you keep callin’ it. It was just kids poppin’ off. Jalen’ssixteen, man. It was just kids.”
Len reached over, yanked the phone free, woke it back up, and shoved it in Kellen’s face to unlock it. He stared at the photo. “This is after the cleanup. She’s painted all those flowers. So he was back there since. Why? Checking his handiwork? Or planning more bullshit?”
“Nothin’ like that. He was with his mom. Junie’s into that psycho witch shit Abigail does. He was with his mom, bored while she got her tea leaves read or whatever, and he wandered around the place. He took the picture to be funny—the same reason they did what they did in the first place.”
“Exactly who did this?” Mel asked, flexing his hands; he’d made such tight fists they were cramping. “Your shitty nephew and who else?”
“They’re just kids, man.”
Before Mel could say anything, Len did. “Kids who tore the shit out of a sweet woman’s home, killed her fuckin’ chickens, and painted a nasty insult on her house. I don’t care how old they are—they are shitheads who need a lesson.” He shoved the phone back at Kellen and leaned close. “What those kids did got Tommy shot and Gary Prentiss dead, Kell. What those kids did has Leigh on our backs for the rest of her fuckin’ life. What those kids did hurt a woman who ain’t hurt a soul any day of her whole life.”
“I know!” Kellen sighed loudly. “Look. I could’ve not said anything. He’s already deleted it. I could’ve deleted this, too, and kept my mouth shut. But I wanted to tell you so you have an answer. We can close this down, and nobody else gets hurt.”
“You know they gotta pay,” Len said. His tone now was weary.
“I know, and I’ll handle it.”
“No.” The word burst from Mel’s mouth like a reflex. “I will.”
He’d been fantasizing for weeks about what he’d do to the assholes who’d hurt Abigail—actually, for months. That said assholes were kids had always been a possibility, but he’d had fantasies for various possibilities. Maybe he couldn’t break a kid physically, but he could scare him straight.
And maybe hurt him a little.
Mel had never experienced bloodlust until this mess, but he was full of it now.
Kellen shook his head. “This is my family, bro. I’m walkin’ a line here. I told you what you needed to know, but I can’t rat out my own family.”
“Youdidrat ‘em out,” Len observed. “Just now, right after you threatened to ratusout. Andwe’reyour family, too.We’rethe ones you swore an oath to.”
Kellen sat there looking miserable and said nothing.
“Who?” Mel asked. “Every name.”
With another loud sigh, Kellen complied. “Jalen and Knox”—Knox was Jalen’s older brother, who’d graduated high school in the spring—“and Teddy Draper and Charlie Coswell. They’re justkids.”
Ignoring that last refrain, Len focused on Mel. “You got the vested interest here, but I got a suggestion.”
Len had been a legendary SAA in the club’s outlaw days and had slipped into the role again to cover Tommy without missing a beat. Mel appreciated that he was taking a step back and letting him lead this. He nodded. “What is it?”
“We got a full plate the next few days—the Harvest Festival, SoCal and Montana comin’ in—and this thing’s been goin’ cold for weeks. I say we leave it sit until the weekend is behind us. That gives us—you—time to work out what’s the right thing, too.” Shifting his attention to Kellen, he sharpened his expression to rest on the edge of a threat. “Andyoukeep your damn mouth shut with those boys. If you warn them we’re comin’, I swear to fuck, they will be finding your bones from here clear up to Canada.”
“You don’t need to be threatening me. I’m an officer!”
“I don’t give a shit if you’re the King of England. If those kids aren’t exactly where they should be when we go looking for ‘em, if they’re not surprised to see us, it’s you that pays their debt. You don’t like that, take it to Badge and see what he says. Fuck, challenge my patch at the table and see how that goes.” He leaned in more, coming almost nose to nose with Kellen. “And if you ever again, even as a joke, threaten to rat the club out for anything? I will feed you, fresh and kickin’, to Tasha’s pigs. That’s not a threat, that’s a solemn vow. Look in my eye and tell me if I’m lying.”
Kellen looked. He swallowed. He shook his head.
Len gave his cheek a pat too hard to be friendly. “Good man.” Leaning back, he leveled a look at Mel. “Good enough?”
It wasn’t. The whole thing felt bigger, murkier, and more dangerous somehow, and it pissed him off that it was kids who’d done it—who’d started all this. Just shitty kids being shitty. All that damage, all that trouble, over a nastyprank? Yeah, that had always been a possibility, maybe even a likelihood, but it seemed doubly offensive for the lack of any motivation beyond shittiness.
But he couldn’t put real hurt on kids. Scaring them would have to do.
Maybe some bruising.
