There was a little bit of a debate as to whether we’d be included as passengers on that bus, but King & King provided surety that we’d be available for questioning if, or when, the need arose.
The bigger debate for the time being, centred around the press who were circling like sharks out in front of Mr. and Mrs. Jones house.
The Joneses were the once proud owners of the garden wall we hid behind and obliterated in our fight with precinct nineteen. They were also the only ones to rush us inside their home, bake a batch of scones, and give us a place where we could negotiate with the good officers of the law, the Alliance spokespeople, and my lawyer via phone link.
And now Gabe and his big mouth were causing more problems. I take another deep breath and stride back in the kitchen like Gabe didn’t just say anything about me swallowing. It takes Herculean effort to shut all my shit down, so I don’t have a massive tantrum or die of embarrassment.
“I do have a headache, I’ll have you know,” I snip bitchily at Val who’s following behind me.
My bitchy attack makes him smirk for a second before he gets serious and interrupts the conversation in the kitchen. “I think we can all agree this incident falls under the umbrella of Pack law. We can argue the details later. I need to get Lennon out of here.”
The lead group of officers, made of a mix of young and old men and women, have a discussion over one side of the room while I make good with Mr. Jones, steering clear of Mrs. Jones who is still talking cream brands with Gabe.
We’ve already been over our pack reimbursing them for the destruction of their house and gardens. But he’s still struggling to tell me how he wants us to handle it.
“Mr. Jones, it’s no bother at all. I want you to be happy. Like I said before, I can either have a professional gardening and construction crew here within a few days or I can deposit the funds into your account for you to do the work.”
And goddamn the little cutie, he still looks so touched I’d offer both options of assistance to him. But it’s easy to see that Mr. Jones is rather particular about the way things are done. There’s a sense of obsessive organisation to everything, well there was, until we blew into their world. I sit next to him at the kitchen table, another cup of tea in front of him. You can see how overwhelming all this is for him.
“I’ll send you a quote from each of my preferred…” he says eventually, after his finger has run up and down the list in his spiral bound notebook.
I guess I’m trying hard to make up for the cream debacle, but I also really want to get out of here. “I’d like to wire over to you an amount I think it will cost for all the rectification works. I think it would be best if you did the work because then you’ll know it’s been done properly. Once you’re finished, perhaps we could come and see everything you’ve done. You and I could go through your spreadsheet of costs to make sure it’s fair for all parties.”
He’s such a gentle soul, and I don’t want to steamroll him, but he’s also one of those people that’s so into the itty-bitty detail it drives me crazy. Without a doubt, he’ll be so much happier if we leave him to do how he sees fit. And knowing I’ll check his figures is also something that will make his obsessive mind relax more and helps him decide.
“Mrs. Jones never liked the brick wall,” he offers, his voice quiet, not because he’s shy or timid, it’s just his personality.
“Ahh, don’t you try to make me feel like I did you a favour,” I joke with him, while also pulling out my broken phone and transferring over to their bank account enough for them to install gold plated gates if they want.
“It’s not going to be finished quickly,” he says, looking at his list again.
“No hurry, I promise. We can make our catch up in autumn if you like. You’ve got my contact details?”
“Right here.” He points to exactly where I wrote them earlier.
“I’m sorry again, Mr. Jones,” I say for about the hundredth time, and he surprises me, reaching over and patting my grimy, bloody hand with his.
“So am I, Lennon. What the government is doing, and have done, is not right. A garden is an easy fix, another omega being taken or killed is not. And then I meet you, and you’ve brought a little dirt and chaos to my night, but I’m blessed you did. Do me one favour though, get that Gabriel away from my wife, I think he fancies her.”
I literally snort a laugh out at him, slapping my hand over my mouth. Closing my eyes and desperately trying to disappear from the shocked stares of everyone in the room. But Mr. Jones isn’t finished being a wonderful surprise in a night of absolute madness.
“This lass needs to go. Everything else we can sort out in due course.”
Everyone kind of moves at the same time. The officers break out of their huddle and start collecting teacups and saucers, the two in charge speak with Valak and Lincoln, while Gabe keeps flirting with Mrs. Jones.
After a final hug with them both, we’re bundled into Koda’s big ass truck and given a police escort out of the area.
* * *
“Your cheek looksa little fucked up, Len. Don’t you think you should get an x-ray before you leave?” Bailey asks, the both of us sitting on the floor, wrapped in her furry blankets again.
“It’s fine,” I huff back at her.
“What about your arm? A bullet is going to scar!”
“It won’t. It’s also fine, thank you.” My hiss this time is a lot louder and pissier.
Sipping on my iced water because my stomach is still a mess from the cream, I twist around. “Did Noah put you up to asking me?”
