Chapter Twenty-Six

For the first time in weeks, Rebel was back in school. She hadn’t missed as many days as CJ, but so much had happened between her regular attendance, and now she felt as if she’d already aged out.

On the surface, everything was returning to normal. Jo was healing, although now her doctors had added another four weeks to her projected release date. In theory, she should’ve been released right around Mardi Gras, a time that Lolly marked with a charity ball. In reality, because of her two surgeries, she needed additional time to heal and grow.

This coming Friday, Momma and Daddy mentioned restarting the weekly family dinners. At the news, CJ sent a mass text to the cousins and their brothers, saying he had an announcement. Rebel couldn’t imagine what that might be.

Maybe she’d ask him tonight.

Diesel had spent the weekend at home. He seemed to have gone out of his way to be in her company. He was never disrespectful or even flirtatious, but Rebel sensed a difference in his interaction with her. It was what she always dreamed of, yet it left her hurt and angry. Each smile he gave her carved a piece of her away. His attention was disingenuous. He’d banded with Daddy and their brothers and didn’t want her to become interested in a boy. They wanted her to die a virgin.

It was all so unfair.

Grant tried to apologize to her before he left for Boston this past Saturday. Rebel flipped him off and stomped away, classifying him as a fucking jackass like the rest of them.

Glancing at her tray of food, Rebel picked up her fork and shoved her mashed potatoes back and forth. She wasn’t really hungry. She was just lonely and out-of-sorts.

Apparently, Harley was so fucked up, she probably wouldn’t return to school for another week. CJ was talking to Coach Yancy. Or practicing. Or whatever boys did for football. Rory and Devon were with their god. Ryan was a fucking asshole, one who wasn’t in the cafeteria. Rule was probably in the theology department that Father Wilkins helped to create.

For his help, he wanted it named the Marion Wilkins’ Department of Biblical, Theological, and Learned Studies for Gifted and Brilliant Students.

Daddy told him to fuck off.

Father Wilkins settled for a hundred grand and the simple ‘Theology Department’.

All the other cousins and brothers were in the Lower School, including Mattie. Without CJ and Harley, she couldn’t control those monsters named Ryder, Ransom, and Axel without bruising them badly, so she left them the fuck where they were.

She glanced at the big clock on the back wall. Thirty-five minutes before her next class. It was funny how time once flew by during lunch. Now, it was passing excruciatingly slow. She estimated it would take her ten minutes to walk to Turn Creek, ten minutes for a ciggy, and ten minutes to return. Barring no delays, she’d make it back onto school grounds with five minutes to spare.

Satisfied with her plan, Rebel went to the trash can, emptied her tray, then set it on the counter with the other dirty trays.

School officials didn’t allow smoking. Even if there was a workaround on that rule, she was still under eighteen. A minor, blah, blah, blah.

Outside of the cafeteria, she considered pausing to buy some chips and a soda from the vending machines, but her timeline was so tight she wouldn’t risk it.

Walking outside, she considered chilling on one of the benches, but quickly changed her mind, in no mood to talk to some random person who wanted to befriend her. She didn’t feel sociable today.

If her purse wasn’t in her locker, she would’ve wasted time to buy chips and a soda from the vending machine. Shit! She hadn’t factored in going to her locker once she got back onto school grounds.

Whatever. She’d make it work.

She started toward the walkway that connected Lincoln Hall, where grades Pre-K to 4 were housed, Williams Hall, the cafeteria for the lower grades, and Clark Hall, the school’s administrative building.

Instead of entering any of the buildings, she veered off onto a grassy slope between Lincoln and Williams Halls, quickly reaching the student drop-off and pickup area.

“Miss Caldwell,” Dr. Marvey, the principal, greeted, just as she stepped onto the driveway pavement.

She froze.

“I didn’t realize you were leaving early today,” he said, once he stood in front of her.

“I’m not,” she said, sticking as close to the truth as possible. Always best in a lie. “I was just hoping to catch CJ on his way to class.”

He meant his scrutiny to intimidate her. When she refused to flinch, he put his hands on his hips and nodded in the direction she’d come. “He’s at practice. It’ll be quicker to reach him that way.”

“I don’t like football,” she said flatly. “It bores me to tears.”

“You’re a cheerleader. You’re supposed to love football.”

“I’m supposed to love my team,” she countered. “Whichever team I’m cheering for. The actual sport has nothing to do with it.”

She glanced at her watch. Her time to get away undetected and get to class was rapidly disintegrating. But Marvey was like a fucking bloodhound. Once on the scent of mischief or mayhem, he was relentless in his pursuit.

“What’s your next class?”

She scowled. “World history.”

“I’ll be sure to stop by and tell you hello, Miss Caldwell.”

“I’ll be counting the minutes,” she said sarcastically.

He gave her a cool smile and walked away. Rebel waited until he’d disappeared into Clark Hall before turning on her heel and dashing off school grounds.

Five minutes later, she paused, her breath sawing in and out of her. But she was much farther away from school than if she’d merely walked.

Two minutes later, she crested the pedestrian walkway of Turn Creek Bridge. Smiling, she leaned against the railing, looking at the placid water below. Over summer, she’d arrange a day here, and challenge her dickhead cousins and brothers to see who performed the best dive.

Digging in her blazer pocket, she pulled out the two cigarettes she’d stolen from Daddy. She placed one between her lips, then felt in her pockets.

“Fuck!”

She shoved her hands in her skirt pockets. She’d forgotten a fucking lighter.

“I think you’re in need of this.”

At the unexpected words, she jumped. A hand flicked a lighter a moment before it appeared in her line of vision.

Once her cigarette was lit, she took a puff. “Thank you,” she said, releasing the smoke and looking at her savior. She swallowed.

Purple shaded his blue eyes. His dark hair was pinned up, allowing her to see the gold hoops in each ear. A leather necklace matched the bracelets on each wrist.

He shoved his lighter back into the pocket of his cargos.

He held out a hand to her. His fingers were tatted.

“Kaia. Riggs,” he added.

She shook his hand. “Rebel. Are you related to Kayce?”

“He’s my little brother. How do you know him? And what’s your last name, Rebel?”

“He’s a classmate and on the football team with my brother. And none of your fucking business. If I wanted you to know my last name, I would’ve told you.”

He studied her mouth. “I graduated from Ridge Moore last year.”

So he was about eighteen or nineteen. He just looked older and more beautiful than anyone she’d ever seen. Except Diesel.

“If your brother’s a football player and your name is Rebel, you’re CJ’s little sister.”

“You have brilliant skills of deduction,” she said sullenly.

A half smile curved his full mouth and heat swept through Rebel. “Just like my cock attached to me.” He took in her face again. “Or I thought I did. You might be worth the risk of losing it.”

She rolled her eyes. “CJ wouldn’t castrate you.”

“He might not. Diesel would. Two summers ago, we went out bowling and then had pizza, specifically to warn us away. Yancy was there. Marvey. The athletic director. All because Kayce asked CJ for your number.”

“Those motherfucking dickhead assholes!” she yelled, so furious she wanted to punch both of them. “That should’ve been my decision.”

“You would’ve gone out with my brother?” Kaia asked, lifting his brows.

“Fuck no. He’s the most boring motherfucker alive. But it wasn’t up to them…” Her voice trailed off at his guffaws and she thumped his shoulder, though most of her anger evaporated. She puffed her cigarette and flicked ashes. “Shut up,” she said, unable to stop her giggles. “It isn’t funny. They are the most interfering motherfuckers ever.”

“They just want to protect their little sister.”

She almost forgot to look at her watch. When she did, her heart sank. She needed to leave now to get back to school.

Disappointed, she tossed her cigarette over the bridge. “I have to go. Marvey promised to visit my classroom.”

Kaia grinned. “You cut even after you ran into the principal?”

“Yep.”

He held up his fist. “Bad ass.”

Flushing, she bumped her fist against his bigger one. “I have seven brothers. I have to be.”

“Noted.”

She could’ve stood there with him for the next hour, talking to him. “I do have to leave, though. Daddy will be pissed if Marvey gives me a detention for cutting.”

“Give me your phone, sweetheart. I’ll put my number in so you can hit me up later.”

Of all the days to leave her fucking purse. But she was a pro at cutting. She didn’t want any extra baggage to slow her down. “I don’t have it with me.”

He snatched his out of his leather jacket pocket. “Give me yours. We can talk later.”

She licked her lips.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he groaned, handing her the phone.

“I know.”

He laughed; she did, too.

“But thank you,” she added, hurriedly adding her name and number to his contact list, then returning his phone.

He held out his hand again. “Nice meeting you, Rebel Caldwell.”

She smirked at him. “You don’t fucking know me, Kaia Riggs. I might be a psychopath.”

“True. But I doubt it. Even if you are, I’m willing to risk it just for a taste of those pretty lips.”

He left her standing there with those words hanging in the air.

Butterflies fluttered in her belly, and she laughed, unable to wait until tonight when she talked to Kaia again.

At the bottom of the bridge, she stopped at the street and glanced in both directions. Seeing no vehicles, she quickly crossed, staying close to the street along the brush and bramble that led to the mall.

Near the edge of the parking lot, hands grabbed her from behind and jerked her into the bushes, startling a scream from her.

“Today must be my lucky day,” Willard Byrd breathed against her ear, tightening his hold on her and ignoring her struggles.

“If a motherfucker ever grabs you from behind, jerk their motherfuckin’ fingers in separate directions and pull those motherfuckers off. Don’t panic, baby.”

Her father’s voice rose clearly in her head, followed by Diesel’s.

“Make yourself dead weight, try to yank his fucking ear off, then punch him in the goddamn throat.”

CJ…

“Headbutt them. You’ll fuck up their mouth or their nose, depending on their height.”

Breathing in deeply and calming herself, Rebel grabbed Willard’s index and middle fingers with one hand and the pinkie and ring fingers in the other and yanked them in separate directions.

Willard screamed and released her.

“You motherfucker, you made me late for class!” she snarled, kneeing his cock, then balling her fist and slamming it into his throat.

He fell to the ground, writhing and gasping. She kicked his side, his thigh, his back, and then his head, knocking him the fuck out.

“Fucking miserable asshole.” Turning, she stormed toward school.

By the time she arrived, she was in tears at how close she’d come to being subjected to whatever that bovine intended.

Seeing Diesel’s Mercedes parked in the student pickup area just at the edge of the breezeway ruined her day. She peeped inside, but breathed a sigh of relief when she found the car empty.

Swiping at the tears rushing down her cheeks, but unable to stop them, she considered her options. Unfortunately, going through the administrative building and crossing the Quad was the quickest route to Douglass Hall for her world history class.

She needed to go to the bathroom and throw cold water on her face. Sniffling, she headed to the entrance of Clark Hall, praying Marvey was in his office behind closed doors.

No such luck. He was standing in the hallway with a resource officer. Not Officer Grey. Another pinched face motherfucker that Rebel had no wish to deal with.

“Miss Caldwell,” Dr. Marvey greeted, holding out his hand toward his office. “Please. Officer Hominy and I have a few things to discuss with you.”

She looked at the two men and swiped at her cheeks. “I need to go to the bathroom,” she said miserably. It didn’t even matter that the rat-faced resource officer was named after fucking corn. “I’ll come to your office,” she swore. “I just need a minute to get myself together.”

“No!” Officer Hominy said. “You’re coming with us, or you will be suspended instead of receiving detention.”

“I have to go to the bathroom, dickhead,” she yelled, torn between tears and anger and…and fear.

Willard was mean and evil. He might’ve violated her, but more than likely he would’ve done so much more. Simply because he hated CJ.

She started trembling.

Officer Hominy drew his taser and aimed it at her. “You move and I’ll tase you for resisting my direct order.”

“You do, motherfucker, and I will leave fucking pieces of you wherever the fucking mood hits me,” Diesel snarled from behind her.

She’d never been so glad to hear Diesel. She turned to him and stood on tiptoe to wrap her arm around his neck, ignoring the sputters of yet another jackass school officer.

“Shhhh,” Diesel crooned, threading his fingers through her hair.

“Mr. Caldwell, this has been a misunderstanding,” Dr. Marvey said.

Diesel stiffened and his heart began to pound so hard that Rebel felt its fast rhythm. “Say one fucking more word and I’ll show you what the fuck a misunderstanding is.” He took her face between his hands and studied her, before ensnaring her gaze in his. “What happened?”

Before she answered, the door opened, and CJ followed Mattie into the building. She was carrying her purse and leather bookbag that looked quite empty.

“Reb!” her brother said, rushing to her. “What’s wrong?”

“Do we need to call Uncle Chris?” Mattie asked from her other side.

“God, no!” Dr. Marvey cried. “No, no, no. This has all been a misunderstanding.”

CJ frowned. “You made my little sister cry?”

“No, she was in tears when she walked in.”

Diesel grew even more rigid. “Instead of seeing after her well-being, you fucking threatened to taze her?”

“What?” CJ started. “Fuck, never mind. I’m calling Dad, Diesel. You got this for now?”

“Wait, wait, wait, Mr. Caldwell,” Dr. Marvey said. Sweat glistened on the bald spot between his thinning hair. “I-I-I…we were joking.” He turned to her, frantic. “Tell him, Miss Caldwell.”

The fate of Eric and Billy came to mind, and she started shaking again. If she told the truth, Marvey, Hominy, and Willard would probably be just as doomed. If she hadn’t cut, none of the past half hour would’ve happened.

She stumbled to CJ. “D-don’t call D-daddy,” she said tearfully, remembering the moment the bullet penetrated Eric’s head and his eyes rolled back in his head. “I-I cut.”

CJ stared at her, then growled, sounding frighteningly like Daddy. “What did that motherfucker do to you?” he snarled.

“Who?”

“Don’t play fucking games, Rebel,” he roared.

Diesel shoved CJ. “Back the fuck off her.”

“Fuck you,” CJ clapped back, shoving Diesel. “Willard fucking walked off the fucking campus after lunch. I saw that motherfucker leave.” After stunning Diesel into silence, he came back to Rebel, then grabbed her and hugged her tightly.

Vaguely, the scent of sweat and dirt hit her nostrils. He was still in his cleats and practice uniform. Not that it mattered.

Sagging against him, she hugged him back. “I fought him…he grabbed me from behind, CJ. But I did everything you, Diesel, and Daddy taught me, and I left him unconscious.”

“I’m going to drown that motherfucker,” CJ said, pushing away from her so suddenly that she stumbled back.

“Isn’t Aunt Meggie on the way,” Mattie started, “since my mom couldn’t come to do whatever is needed?”

Just as Mattie said those words, the door opened, and Momma walked in as beautiful as Rebel had ever seen her in a ruched midi dress with a high slit. Her face was made up and her hair was styled in a casual bouffant. She dripped diamonds, wore designer pumps with a five-inch stiletto, and had a Birkin hanging on an arm.

Momma hurried to them. “Reb, what’s the matter, love?” she asked.

“Nothing that can’t be handled, Mrs. Caldwell,” Dr. Marvey said.

He was a notorious suck-up in front of Daddy and just as bad a flirt with Momma. Behind the scenes, though, he was a fucking bastard.

Rebel was almost certain it had to do with her father’s biker lifestyle. Unfortunately, Uncle Johnnie was in charge of the hiring. He vetted everyone. It made sense when Rebel thought about it. It took a fucking dickhead to hire other fucking dickheads.

“No!” Momma snapped.

Rebel wondered what she’d missed.

“I’m here to see to the signatures for my niece. That does not explain why I walk in and find my daughter in tears.”

“It’s all a big misunderstanding,” Dr. Marvey said.

Momma narrowed her eyes. “Then I’m sure you’ll be happy to explain that to Christopher. CJ, get your daddy here.”

“Mrs. Caldwell, please—”

Momma ignored the whiny motherfucker. “Diesel, sign Rebel out for the day. I’ll call Kendall to see if she minds you signing the documents to transfer Mattie to the Upper School.”

“I don’t have my phone. It’s in my purse. And my purse is in my locker.”

“You went to Turn Creek without a way to fucking track you?” Diesel demanded, scowling at her.

“Enough, son,” Momma ordered. “She’s been through enough. I suppose you ran into Bash again.”

“No, Momma,” she said quietly. “It was Willard.”

“I see.”

Rebel didn’t think her mother did. Momma didn’t know what a violent pig he was.

“Dr. Marvey, I’m giving you one last chance,” Momma said. “If I come here one more time and find you involved in anything that befalls my children or my nieces and nephews, it will become a club matter. Am I clear?”

“Very,” he said weakly.

She looked at Officer Hominy. “Clear this campus at once. And be happy I’m not calling my husband and telling him you intended to taze his daughter.”

The resource officer glanced at Dr. Marvey, who nodded. “This way, Connor.”

“His name is Connor Hominy?” Rebel asked, aghast.

The two men ignored her as they disappeared into Dr. Marvey’s office.

“Remember Officer Teabag?” Mattie asked, rolling her eyes. “Earl Grey.”

“Maybe they need to stay away from anyone whose name is associated with food and drinks,” Mom grumbled. “Unless their names are made up.”

Diesel squinted.

“Why would they use food names, Mom?” CJ asked.

She shrugged. “As a code? Or a message? Grits is made from hominy and it’s mainly Southern. But that theory falls apart when we get to Earl Grey. The club has no English connections, so it is probably just coincidence that two horrible men have stupid names.”

Her mother’s presence calmed Rebel considerably.

“How old is Willard?” Momma asked.

“Eighteen, Mom,” CJ answered.

A thoughtful expression crossed her face. “I’ll talk to Christopher. In the meantime, CJ, walk your sister to her locker so she can get her things.” Mom gentled her annoyance. “Diesel, if you don’t mind driving my Corvette, I’ll take your Mercedes so Mattie can come with Reb and me to the committee meeting for the ball.”

“That explains your drip, Mom,” CJ said.

“I haven’t even chosen a gown,” she admitted. “Frankly, I don’t know if I should back out or not, since Jo’s release has been pushed back yet again.”

“No, Mom,” CJ protested. “Absolutely not. I love seeing you and Dad all fancy. And you love it, too. Even if you don’t go, you won’t be at the hospital with Jo.”

“CJ’s right, Aunt Meggie,” Diesel chimed in, much calmer, too. “I’ll be at the house, so go and enjoy yourself.”

“You deserve a break, Aunt Meggie,” Mattie said.

She nodded. “You’re right,” she said, then smiled at Rebel. “Hurry, Reb. We don’t want to be late for Roxy’s meeting.”