Whatever I’d been expecting, I got a sense of just how wrong I’d been as I made my way across the cemetery. From my place at my parents’ graves, it had looked like the four of the kids had been wearing simple black hoodies. But the closer I got, the more I recognized the image staring back at me from one of the fake leather vests. The cartoonish skull had fangs, and the dog's teeth were dripping blood, but the similarities were too close, dangerously resembling the Hounds patch. This wasn’t good for either group. These boys were putting themselves in the line of fire and incurring the Hounds’ wrath, while the behavior of the boys would reflect on the pack’s already sullied reputation. Whatever game the kids were playing, it involved fire, and they were going to get burned.
The ringleader wiped some sweat away with the arm of his hoodie as he paused to catch his breath. The granite hadn’t shifted since the initial crack that had alerted me to their presence in the first place. Not one of them had noticed me, but as he pulled his foot back to try once more, my eyes weredrawn to the name engraved on it, and the words were out before I could so much as think about changing my mind.
“Do that again and you’ve signed your death warrant, kid.”
Four sets of eyes turned my way, the sneer of the one with his leg suspended in the air making an insidious shiver run down my spine.
I was outnumbered.
They may have been kids, freshmen in high school if I was judging right, but they could still be dangerous. Teenage boys were like dogs; put more than two together and you had a pack mentality, and that wasn’t always a comforting thought. I wasn’t safe. The look in their eyes as they assessed me told me everything I needed to know.
“Put your mouth to better use and wrap it around my dick, bitch.”
Whatever line of thought was in my mind, whatever fear or caution I’d been harboring, it all seemed to go away with the little punk’s deep, gravelly voice. My incredulity at his audacity was suddenly the only thing that mattered.
“I’d have to find it first, asshole.” All his little friends made amused noises as they hid their faces. Point to me. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
“It ain’t none of your business. So go back to whatever the fuck you were doing and keep your nose out of it.”
He kicked the headstone again, forcing the grass around the base to move. The real patch that was engraved under the word'sBrother For Lifebecame visible.
“Stop it. Just stop it. That’s disrespectful and disgusting. It’s also a good way to get a target nail-gunned to your backs. The fact that you were stupid enough to wake up this morningand put on fake patches was bad, but to desecrate one of the Hounds’ graves is suicide.”
“Wearethe Hounds.”
“The fuck you are, kid, and if you valued your balls, you’d take those terrible fakes off and forget you ever had them.”
“Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?”
“You, asshole, but I have this overwhelming sense that you have no idea who I am, which would be completely understandable if you hadn’t said you were Hounds.”
“I don’t got time for you, lady. Step off and fuck off.”
“Oh, I will. I’m sure Drew Tucker would be very interested to know that you’re here,” I said, pulling out my cell phone to call one of the guys, hoping Drew would be with them. “What were your names?”
“Elbows,” his friend said, suddenly wide-eyed and sheet white.
“Shut up, Mikey. She’s bluffing.”
“I’m really not,” I said, flipping the phone onto speaker as a growl came down the line.
“Where the fuck have you been, Ayda?”
“I’m at the cemetery, Drew. You may need to get down here. We have a situation.”
As much as I knew I would pay for it later, I hung the phone up on him and stared at the kid who looked like he was about to hurl. I didn’t like throwing my relationship with Drew around. I didn’t like using it to put weight behind my threats, but this was pack business as much as it was mine, and it was the only way I could stop the little fucks from ruining Pete’s headstone.
I’d barely drawn breath when the four of them took offlike their heels were on fire. The one they called Elbows stopped as the others jumped the fence and turned his head to look back at me. With two fingers and his thumb raised, he cocked an imaginary gun and shot it in my direction, his smirk evident as he shook his head and bounced over to follow his friends. My original instinct was right. They were dangerous, but I’d won the battle this time.
Turning back to the grave, I felt an overwhelming sadness stab me in the chest. It wasn’t the prettiest grave, or the neatest, but it was certainly the most loved. The face of it had been left clean, but over the years, the sides and the back had been decorated. Names, badges and messages were engraved all over it. All signs of love from his brothers and friends. To say he was missed was a ridiculous understatement.
Falling to my knees at the side of him, I placed my hand in the middle of the long grass and left it there. My eyes closed as I thought about everything Drew and I had spoken about the night before. This was the man responsible for the guy I loved. Pete was the reason Drew was still alive, even if there was a piece of him buried under my palm with his idol.
“Hey, Peter 'Frazier' Mitchell, friend, brother and legacy Hound. We finally get to meet. I’m Ayda, and I think I may have just inadvertently forced Drew to come and pay you a visit.”
Chapter Eight
Drew
