“Let me loose. I’m ready.”
Without saying anything else, I flung one door open, hopping out before I guided him down. Reaching inside for the bottle of water we’d brought along, I poured some into my palm before rubbing it over his forehead, across his cheeks and around his neck. Kenny had told me the places to avoid the wires, so when I tipped water down Tate’s back to replicate sweat, I was as careful as I could be before tapping him on the shoulder and telling him he was good to go.
Jedd climbed out of the van slowly, his head shaking as we both watched Tate start jogging on the spot, his head rotating as though he was warming up for another Friday night game. His knees came up high in quick spurts before he slapped both his thighs and let out a small growl.
“Fucking hell, quit bouncing around. You’ll dislodge the fucking things,” Kenny growled quietly from the back of the van. I knew tonight was tough for him, too. He’d grown close to Tate. He was as worried as Ayda.
“Sorry, man,” Tate answered in a rush of breath.
“Go on, young blood. Get going,” Jedd commanded. Tate took off around the side of the van, his jog slow and controlled, his body feigning fatigue as he tried to look like he’d been on his run for hours. Jedd waited a good thirty seconds before he stepped out after him, wearing a long, dark trench coat and some creepy as hell hat on his head that made him look like a resident sexual harasser, rather than a Hound. Not that some folk around Babylon would see much difference between the two.
I climbed back into the van and made my way into thepassenger seat beside Slater, leaving Kenny where he could concentrate on all the technical shit.
“Are you still set on not letting me kill them for what they did to Pete’s grave?” Slater muttered quietly, his eyes facing forward as his arms crossed his chest.
“All in good time, Slate. All in good time.”
It didn’t take long for Tate to approach them, and from behind, he really did look like a towering form of a man. All I could do now was watch, wait, listen and above all else, hope.
Kenny fiddled around in the back before he leaned over and shoved an ear bud in my ear and one in Slater’s. “You guys listen in. If I hear them talking smack to the kid I won’t be able to stop myself from getting out of here and showing them what it really means to be a fucking Hound.”
“Is this the loudest it will g—” I was asking when a rustling of material against the mic rang into my ears, mixed with a heavy wheezing breath. “Got it,” I said, leaning back in my seat and narrowing my eyes on the events up the road.
“Hey,” Tate shouted out breathlessly. “Hey, hold up!”
No answer came. There was no sound of anything other than his clothes rubbing against him and his feet slowing to a more even pace. The group of youths were walking away, Tate following them and holding out an arm as he came up to one of the kids at the back and grabbed him by the shoulder.
The silence took over again, and I watched from afar as the whole gang turned around slowly, looking at Tate like he had three heads, or at the very least, a thing for group beat downs. The kid he had hold of shrugged him off, turning to face him fully before Tate pushed both his hands into the front pocket of his hoodie and bowed his head.
Just like I’d told him to.
Perfect.
“The fuck are you?” one of them challenged, his voice barely broken, but his manly bravado on show for all to see.
“Doesn’t matter who I am,” Tate answered, making his breaths ragged. “I just need something.”
“A towel?” the girl squeaked from somewhere, giggling wildly as Slater and I rolled our eyes at each other.
“No,” breathed Tate.
“Look, we don’t give a shit what you need, dick. We ain’t no running club. You don’t just come up to us like we’re fucking nothing. You hear me? Don’t you know who we are?” the same guy challenged again.
“I do. I see it. You’re—”
“What. We’re what?” he said, pushing Tate’s shoulder roughly.
“Stop,” came a command from one of the other guys. This one was older. His voice sounded like it had gotten stuck on broken glass when escaping, but even from in the van, you could practically feel the respect from the others who surrounded him. That’s when I knew whoever we were watching step up to Tate, he was the piece of work that thought he was in command of my town. My lazy smile instantly broke free.
“Elbow, get back, I can handle this,” the first boy responded.
“No, Mikey. I got this one.”
“Listen, I ain’t looking for trouble. I can see who y’all are,” Tate answered quickly, and for a split second, I couldn’t tell if the wobble in his voice was just good acting or his first real show of fear. “I’m not into messing with that kind of shit.”
“No?” Elbow drew out, pulling up to a stand in front ofhim. “Then what kind of shit are you into messing with?”
“Drugs,” Tate responded flatly, and even from afar, I could see the rise of his body as he bounced on the balls of his feet. “I need a hit of something and—”
