“Leave him alone, Diesel,” Aunt Meggie warned.
“Ifhetouches her, I’m killing him.”
“Refer to my previous statement,” she said. “What I want most for Rebel is that she enjoys her teenage years. That she goes on dates with several boys, instead of focusing on just one person.”
CJ and Diesel recoiled, united in their disgust and disapproval at her words.
“Hey, Mom,” Axel said, opening the door without warning and running in. He stopped, squinted, and stiffened. “What’s going on in here?” he asked suspiciously.
“Nothing, son,” Aunt Meggie said and swept away.
Axel stood still for a moment, then swallowed. “Mom’s mad.”
“She’ll, er…” CJ’s voice trailed off and he shrugged. “It’ll be okay, big head. She’ll get over it.”
Diesel gave Axel a wary look.
“I told you motherfuckers not to make her mad so she won’t leave again.”
“She’ll only leave if she’s angry with Dad,” CJ said carefully.
Axel glared at them, his eyes bright and teary. “Sleep with your fucking eyes open,” he said, and stalked away.
“Fuck,” CJ mumbled, a sentiment Diesel thoroughly echoed.
It was nearly 1 p.m. when Christopher finally walked into his bedroom. After staying out all fucking night searching for those two motherfuckers, he’d gotten the boys from Derby’s club, then went to Turn Creek Bridge and the surrounding area, hoping to find Wally, Jr., and drown him.
That fuckhead.
The pathway where he attacked Mattie was now completely cleared. Some of the Ridge Moore kids wouldn’t like it. They used that pathway—a longer route in Christopher’s estimation than following the goddamn street—to hide cutting their classes.
They walked along the banks of the creek and checked the two old picnic shelters. Although they found a backpack with clothes, a lighter, and unopened beer, it could’ve belonged to anyone.
Right before Christopher called off the search and rounded up everyone to head home, it crossed his mind to shoot the fuck out of Johnnie, but he ignored the urge. Besides, Johnnie would help with that cunt, Charlotte.
Problems for another day, so he went to the club and made several phone calls. He’d rescheduled tonight’s DNA tests to next week and also called emergency church for tomorrow evening. He reviewed Stretch’s budgetary report and signed off on it, giving him the go-ahead to run it and present it next weekat the regular meeting.
Then he headed home, anxious to see Megan. When he walked into the foyer, closed the door, and leaned against it, Christopher waited to hear her footsteps. The silence in the middle of the fucking day panicked him. As far as he knew, the kids were home. They should’ve been running through the house, tearing shit up. Had Megan left again?
He hurried to the kitchen. Clean but empty. No food cooking or no evidence of what was planned for dinner. The den—empty.
Mancave—fucking empty. Dining and breakfast rooms—motherfuckingempty.
Heart in throat, he rushed to the backstair case, the silence fucking unnerving. Reaching the small landing on the third floor and opening the door to the hallway, he stepped toward the bedroom when CJ’s door opened, and Axel stepped out, carrying a half-empty bottle of baby oil.
Christopher and Axel stared at each other. The little motherfucker clamped his mouth shut, so Christopher caved.
“What the fuck you doin’, boy?”
“A mission.”
Did he want to know? He sure the fuck did, but he wanted to find Megan more. As long as Axel didn’t blow shit up, Christopher couldn’t care less. But Megan would want him to ask. His heart pounding, he scrubbed a hand over his face.
“What fuckin’ type of mission?”
“The fucking kind that’ll remind CJ not to make Mom mad,” Axel growled, then spat, “Diesel’s next.”
Megan was mad? All types of scenarios ran through his head, repeatedly landing at the same conclusion: She had left him again. He couldn’t imagine what he’d done after she’d promised he had nothing to worry about.
