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Generally, he wouldn’t be caught dead in the same park area that the city used to train their police officers. There was always an off chance that a young, dumb officer would see him and inadvertently out him.
“Shit,” I said as I saw him stop near the group.
Our eyes met, and connected, over the span of the park.
Then a nervous flutter started to swell in my belly.
If he was here, that meant that there were others here as well.
I started to look around, my practiced eye trying to find the colors of the gangs in the area.
The Breakers were orange and teal.
Then there were the West Backers, that were neon green and blue.
The gang that Gable had been slowly digging his way into the middle of was orange and teal. Gable, in his orange shirt, black bandana, and teal Air Force Ones, had my belly tensing.
Because the man that he was talking to was also wearing orange and teal.
But across the park…
“Mom,” I murmured urgently. “Get on the horn and call in a code 192.”
My quiet words had my mom moving before I finished speaking.
“Boys,” I said quietly, knowing that they were listening. “Start spreading out.”
Assman, Boseman, and the others dispersed, all going to different points in the park.
Boseman reached the park and started talking quietly to a group of dads.
All of them tensed, but they slowly started to gather their children up without alerting anyone that anything was wrong. The moms, sensing issues, did the same, and started to herd them in the direction of the bathrooms, which were at the farthest point in the park. It also offered the one area in which they could hide behind actual brick walls.
There were too many of them.
And the kids holding the kite competition were right in the middle of the two gangs.
Mother. Fucker.
A text came through in my pocket, and soon they came, one after the other after the other.
The family text chain had been activated.
Mom returned to my side, her trusty firearm now on full display, along with her badge.
My mother might be all of five-foot-four, but she was a powerhouse. And she’d kick every man’s ass that she encountered if she needed to.
“Ma,” I murmured. “I need you to get to that group of kids behind the bathrooms.”
“On it.” She paused. “Are you going to the kites?”
I swallowed hard. “I’m going to the kites.”
As I did, more and more colors of the two gangs started appearing.
All of them gathering right across from each other.
I pulled my phone out when it started to ring Gable’s ringtone.
