Royal and Baron stand back, and Gloria pokes around under the hood for a few minutes before giving Royal a thumb’s up. He climbs back into the driver’s seat.
“What is he doing?” I ask, darting forward.
“Just wait,” Duke says, grabbing me around the waist and yanking me back. A murmur goes up from the crowd, and I try to wrench away, my heart jackhammering. It just about stops when Royal turns the key. But the car starts normally.
A collective exhalation goes through the crowd, and then excited chatter as they realize the show is over, and it’s time to relive the excitement.
Gloria closes the hood, and Duke releases me and hops up in the passenger seat.
Baron slides into the back of the Hummer and throws open the door, giving me a questioning look. “Coming?”
I climb in, and Royal backs out as people scatter out of the way. He roars out of the lot, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.
“Mind telling me what the fuck just happened?” I ask.
“I fucking knew it,” Royal growls. “I knew he was still here.”
“Preston Darling happened,” Baron explains.
“He bombed your car?” I ask. Again, there’s a reason I stay out of gang business, and it’s for shit like this. I have no interest in war or blowing shit up. But I’m involved, whether or not I expected this. I knew getting in with the Dolces was dangerous. Everyone told me. You don’t get that much power without making enemies, and their enemies are pretty dangerous, too.
“Fucking stalker,” Duke says, shaking his head. “He fights like a girl.”
“Smart?” I ask.
“Like a pussy,” Duke says. “He’ll never come out of hiding and fight us like a real man.”
Maybe because there’s three of you, and only one of him, I think, but I’m not about to say that shit out loud. Besides, a horrible, sickening thought it churning in my stomach. What if it wasn’t Preston Darling? What if it was Mr. D?
Does he have other spies besides me? Someone still in the Swans? Colt said the Darlings have allies hidden all over town, afraid to come out. If one of the Dolce boys’ friends is a Darling sympathizer, and he told Mr. D that I’m lying, would he target the boy who made me change allegiances? Or would he come after me?
“We have to flush him out,” Royal says.
No one says anything for a long minute.
“We tried that,” Duke says finally.
“And Dad said their family is off limits.”
“Wait, what?” I ask, my mind racing. I’m so tangled in this web I can’t find the thread to release me. The boys know I’m not a Swan. If they told Mr. Dolce, and he told Mr. D—Preston’s Dad—thinking he’s a friend, and Mr. D went after his son to punish me… Is Mr. Dolce going to come after me next? This is way too fucking complicated. If I wanted this disastrous mess of violence and backstabbing and confusion in my life, I would have just tried to be popular at Faulkner. I didn’t sign up for this shit. I just wanted to go to college.
“Fuck him,” Royal says, ignoring me. “He got his revenge. He doesn’t get to stop us from getting ours.”
“We could go after Magnolia,” Duke says.
That about douses me in ice water. This problem is so much bigger than me.
“Preston thinks he’s the head of that family now,” Baron says. “If we target her, he might come out and defend her.”
“Are you seriously talking about fucking some twelve-year-old?” I ask.
“She’s not twelve,” Baron says. “She’s four years younger than us. You know how girls are at that age. She’ll be flattered by the attention of three older guys. Hell, it’ll be like taking candy from a baby.”
“So she’s thirteen?” I demand, glaring at him. “That’s fucked up, y’all. Like, criminally.”
“You were fucking guys when you were thirteen,” Royal points out.
“Not guys,” I say. “One guy. And it was a huge mistake.”