The Rebel of Raleigh High (Raleigh Rebels #1)(75)

“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 Silver told me what he did, so I'd think she was a liar right out of the gate.

“I’m not saying she’s lying. Though high school girls do do that, y’know. I’m merely wondering if there’s any kind of evidence to this crime. Something the cops can work with.”

Bitterly, I shake my head. “She was too fucked up. Hasn’t told her folks. She told her friends, and they cut her out. Shunned her.”

“And the school?”

“The teachers heard about it. Called her in. Called him in, too. Made them do some conflict resolution counseling and swept the entire thing under the rug. They look at her the same way as all the other students do. Like she's some trouble maker, out to cause issues for their golden boy.”

“You said there were three of them. You keep on talking about one guy, though.”

“He was the one who drugged her. He’s the one who orchestrated the whole thing. He’s their fucking ringleader. They all need to suffer…but Jacob Weaving needs to suffer the most.”

Monty’s eyebrows rocket, shooting upward. “Weaving? Caleb Weaving’s kid?”

“I don’t know who his father is.” That hardly seems important, but the look on Monty’s face says otherwise.

“Caleb Weaving used to be one of my biggest clients. Owns half of the farmland in the county. Richer than sin.”

“And what? That means Jake shouldn’t be held accountable for what he’s done?”

Slowly, Monty smiles, stubbing out his cigarette in an overflowing ashtray. “No, Alex. It means, if we are talking about Caleb’s kid, then I will happily help you bring the little fucker to his knees. Caleb’s screwed me over more times than I can count. It’s about time someone taught that family a hard lesson. When were you hoping to mete out this justice of yours?”

“Today? Yesterday? As soon as humanly fucking possible. Why?”

“Because…if you’re willing to stay your hand for a couple of weeks, a couple of months, even, then I think I know just the thing that’ll strip that little fucker of his crown.”

“I don’t know, man. Months?”

“It’ll be worth it. Trust me. By Christmas, Jacob Weaving won’t be bothering your little girlfriend any longer.”





Silver's car doesn't sound healthy at all. On the drive back from the cabin, I make a mental note to give the engine a once over as soon as possible. Monty drove me over to the lake to collect it, and said no more about what his plan to punish Jake involved, but he played Lynyrd Skynyrd the entire way there—his thinking music—and wore a wolfish, smug smile that meant he was plotting something genuinely vile. I thanked him, told him I'd make sure I showed up for my shift on Wednesday, grim in the knowledge that he'll probably want me to do another run for him. When we pulled out of the cabin's long driveway, I took a left back toward Raleigh, and he took a right, disappearing off to god only knows where.