his hand. “Hey! Hey, asshole! Get out of here before I call the fucking cops!”
The taunt sits heavy on the tip of my tongue, burning like battery acid: Go ahead, motherfucker. Call them. See what happens. But I know how that’ll go. They’ll show up here en force, tires screeching as they peel onto the forecourt, guns already drawn, aimed at my fucking head. They’ll cart me off in cuffs. It’ll be on the news. ‘Local thug arrested for attempted assault.’ All of Raleigh will know about it before lunchtime, and Silver will be hysterical. She won’t forgive me. I told her I could handle the truth from her. I can’t let her down at the very first hurdle by pulling this kind of stupid shit.
My pulse pounds like a runaway train in my temples as I stalk back to the bike and climb on, starting the engine and roaring out of the station.
This is not good.
This is not fucking good.
I need to do something.
At the bar, I find Monty in his office, going over surveillance footage at his desk. His expression darkens when I burst in without knocking. “The fuck’s got you so riled up?” he asks, halting the feed on the screen.
“I need a favor,” I grind out. I’m calmer than I was when I had the tire iron in my hand, but I am a far cry from actually being calm.
“Does this favor involve murder? ’Cause you look like you’re about to kill someone.”
“Maybe,” I say grimly.
“Jesus. It’s only Monday morning, Alex. Can’t we at least make it to Thursday evening without a need for homicide?” He jerks his head at the seat opposite him. “Sit. Tell me what’s happened.”
I don’t want to sit but I know he won’t appreciate me prowling up and down in his office with a face like thunder, so I slump down in the chair and lean forward, holding my head in my hands.
“You even shower this morning? You look like shit,” he says.
“No. I did not shower. I had other things on my mind.”
“If this has anything to do with that tasty little treat from Raleigh High that you brought in here the other night, please know I am not going to be happy.”
I roll my eyes. “No. Not her. Another girl. My girlfriend,” I add on the end, gingerly…because I know he’s gonna give me shit for—
“Girlfriend? Since when?” I don’t even get to finish the thought. Monty’s already smirking like the bastard that he is, kicking his feet up on his desk like he’s settling in for a juicy bit of gossip. “You knock her up the first time you stick your dick in her, Moretti? ’Cause that would be some dumbass bullshit right there.”
“Fuck you, man,” I growl. “My dick isn’t the problem here.”
“But it is a dick problem.”
“Three guys from the Raleigh football team raped her. It was really fucking bad.”
Monty's grin takes on a sour, displeased look. “Well. That does sound like a problem, doesn't it?” He leans forward, swiping his pack of smokes up from the edge of his desk. He lights one, narrowing his eyes at me. “Should never have gotten kicked out of Bellingham, kid. A Bellingham girl would have carved 'em up before letting 'em pull that kinda shit. Raleigh's too touchy-feely. Makes the kids too soft to stick up for themselves.”
“I’m not really interested in arguing the pros and cons of Raleigh High. I just want some fucking justice.”
“For her, because they hurt her? Or for you, because they broke one of your toys?”
Monty’s done a lot for me since I got out of juvie. More than anyone else would have done. But at the moment I feel like knocking his fucking head off. Common sense prevails, though. He’s my only ally in all of this. I still give him a look laced with enough vitriol to let him know what I think of his question. “She’s suffered long enough, having to see those fuckers day in and day out. She shouldn’t have to.”
Blowing out a cloud of smoke, Monty regards me. “She go to the hospital? Take a rape kit?”
I grip the arms of the chair, growling low, like a dog. “She's not making it up, asshole. You don't know her, man. She's not like that.” She's nothing at all like the girl Jake tried to paint when I first started at Raleigh. That was all subterfuge. So much smoke. Groundwork on Jake's part, prepping me for the time when