Page 16 of Kidnapped

We drive around for a few minutes as we wait for him to pull himself together before he finally lifts his head. I wince slightly; he’s got a cut lip, busted nose, and definitely a black eye, the bruise already starting to form.

“Just a random fight, or did he provoke you?” I ask, which is the same thing I ask everyone when we break up fights. I don’t particularly care if they just wanted a fight and started on the first Tomlinson fucker that they saw, but I do care if there was adecent reason behind it and if that reason is something that we need to be aware of.

Of course, not all of the fights are between Tomlinson and us. There is a vast amount that’s in-house, as it were, and we only really split the major ones up. The cops only really seem interested in the ones that happen between the two schools since we have a known rivalry going on and because of the Pit. Any in-house fights, they pretty much leave it be, unless it gets particularly bad and they're forced to step in.

The guy, I think he’s called Jake, sighs and says, “He hit my sister.”

“We should’ve let you beat him for longer,” I mutter, a growl to my voice.

Jake smirks slightly at my words, “I got him good.”

“Is she okay?” Rafe signs, and I translate for him.

Jake nods somewhat hesitantly, “She’s shaken up, scared, and won’t go anywhere without me, but she’s tough as nails, and she’ll be okay.”

I nod, “We’ll put him on the watch list and put the word out exactly what kind of a coward he is; I’m pretty sure you won't be the only one who beats his ass.”

Jake’s eyebrows raise slightly in surprise, but he nods, “Thanks, man. I appreciate that. I’m sure that will make Kaley feel safer, too.”

“No problem, it’s the least we can do,” I reply. “What’s his name?”

“Rupert Wise.” Jake practically sneers.

Rafe starts signing with one hand again, and I translate it for Jake when I realize he’s talking to him, “If he starts giving her any sort of trouble, messages her, or turns up, anything like that, let us know, and we’ll personally deal with it.”

“Seriously?” Jake asks.

I nod, “Yeah, seriously, we’re not going to let that slide, and if we can deal with it, we will.”

“Wow! Thanks guys, really.” He repeats.

“No problem,” I reply with a smile and then change the subject and ask, “Where can we drop you off?”

He quickly reels off his address, which is, of course, in the opposite direction of the way we’ve been driving. While we head in the right direction, I put the word out that Rupert is now on what I’ve affectionately dubbed the shit list, and that everyone needs to spread the word and warn the girls about him too. I highly doubt that what he’s done to Jake's sister is an isolated event, and I’d almost be willing to bet that he’s done it before.

I also message Trick and the guys to let them know about the developments and that we’re okay, and we broke up the fight without incident. I doubt that they paid much attention to the movie after we left, and were instead waiting for an update, and making sure that they were ready to go if we messaged and said that we needed them.

Trick:Got it. Have you put out the word?

Me:Yep, all done. We’re just taking him home now, and then we’ll be back.

Trick:Good job. See you soon.

As I look up from my phone, I catch sight of Jake in the mirror and wince again; we really shouldn’t send him back looking as bad as he currently does. There’s fuck all that we can do about the split lip and the bruising, but we could at least get the blood off so it doesn’t look as bad as it does now. I’m sure that we’ve got some wet wipes in here somewhere; I mean, it’s Trick’s truck, and he prepares for everything, so I would be very surprised if there aren’t any in here. Rafe’s eyes keep darting to me curiously as I rummage around under the seat and then in the glove compartment, and I know he’s desperate to ask me what the fuck I’m doing.

Chapter Twelve

Riot

“Aha!” I exclaim as I finally find some wet wipes and hold them up. Rafe’s face clears with understanding, and I turn around and hold them up to Jake, who looks confused. So I explain, “Dude, you look like a horror show right now. You have blood all over your face and splatter on your knuckles. I’m not sure that you want to walk through your front door like that.”

His eyes widen, “Shit, yeah you’re right. I don’t want to scare my sister more than she already is.”

“No, you don’t. Unfortunately, your face still looks pretty bad, but there’s fuck all that we can do about that,” I reply.

It doesn’t escape my notice that he doesn’t mention either of his parents and what their reactions would be, and that tells me a lot about his situation.

Around ten minutes later, he’s finally looking a lot more presentable, and he leans forward and points to the left, “That’s mine. You can pull up outside. My parents are working nights. They’re doctors.”

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