Page 77 of Wicked Spite
I burst through the front door into the cold air, my boots pounding against the pavement as I sprint toward the SUV. The familiar rumble of an engine roars to life as I jam the key into the ignition, the weight of urgency heavy in my chest.
The tires screech against the asphalt as I peel out of the driveway, my knuckles white on the steering wheel as the image of my sister brands itself in my mind. I only have one goal here and that’s getting to her.
I know that she’s stronger than she appears. She’s my little sister and we St. Pierre women are made of goddamn titanium, regardless of what my father thinks. My lips quirk into a bitter smile despite the terror seizing my heart as I rifle through the center console, feeling for any weapons the Blackwoods may have stored.
I should have grabbed something before I left. I should have called Penn. There are so many things I could have, should have done, but I can’t dwell on them because I’m my sister’s only shot.
Chapter 27
Penn
I’m stomping through the front door, practically shoving Ramsey out of my way as I head upstairs. The house is too damn quiet. Reagan should be here. She better be here. My boots thud against the wooden steps, echoing in the silence.
I’m still worked up from visiting Graham in the hospital and him telling me I can’t kill fucking Memphis Hartford. That I have to let him handle it. If he had fucking handled it and kept Memphis as someone who he only stuck his dick into then this shit would have never fucking happened.
“Rae Rae!” I shout, my voice bouncing off the walls. No answer. If she’s got her headphones in again to supersonic levels, she’s going to get an ass kicking. I kick something hard in the hallway and look down to see her phone skitter across the floor. What the hell? I scoop it up and push into our bedroom, only to find it empty. Just an unmade bed and a sense of dread creeping up my spine.
“Fuck’s sake,” I mutter under my breath.
I storm back downstairs, each step vibrating with myfrustration. Ramsey’s lounging in the living room, looking like he doesn’t have a care in the world. “She’s gone,” I snap, tossing her phone onto the coffee table. “Where the fuck is she?”
“Relax, man,” he says, not even bothering to look up from his laptop. “She probably just went for a walk or something.”
“Right, because she’s really the ‘go for a walk’ type,” I scoff, pulling out my phone. Time to use the tracker. I tap the screen, but nothing happens. The piece of shit app is frozen. “Goddammit,” I growl, throwing the useless piece of shit at Ramsey. He barely catches it, looking more annoyed than anything.
“Fix this. Now.”
“Chill out, Penn.” He starts fiddling with the phone, fingers moving fast over the screen. “You really need to stop letting her get to you like this.”
“Just fix the fucking phone,” I bite out, pacing the room like a caged animal. My mind races. What the fuck had her dipping out and leaving shit behind? Jesus fuck, after the last night and even before then I thought we were fucking good. I didn’t think I needed to fucking live up her ass.
“Maybe she’s just playing hard to get,” Ramsey says, smirking. “Testing how far you’ll go.”
“Testing my goddamn sanity is what she’s doing,” I snap, running a hand through my hair. “And she’s gonna regret it.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Ramsey replies, finally looking serious as he continues to work on the phone. “Give me a sec. I’ll get it working.”
“Make it quick,” I warn, my voice low and dangerous. “Or you’re gonna be the next one who regrets pissing me off.”
“You don’t scare me, cousin,” he mutters, eyes glued to the screen. “I’ve got this.”
“Better hope so,” I say, stalking toward the window andstaring outside, my mind already racing ahead to what I’ll do when I find her. Because I will find her. And then she’ll learn exactly what it means to cross me.
Ten minutes pass as Ramsey keeps messing with my phone and I can’t wait any longer.
“Grab your shit and let’s go.” I tell him before I walk toward the garage.
I hear him gathering his bag and stomping after me.
“Get in,” I bark, throwing open my truck door. Ramsey doesn’t need telling twice, sliding into the passenger seat. I slam the door shut, fingers gripping the steering wheel so tight my knuckles go white.
“Where the hell do you think she went?” Ramsey asks, fiddling with my phone like it’s a Rubik’s Cube he needs to solve fast.
“St. James,” I growl, slamming the truck into reverse and peeling out of the garage. The tires screech, the sound echoing in the enclosed space. “She’s got nowhere else to go. She sure as fuck ain’t going to her daddy’s. She hates him more than anything.”
“St. James? Seriously?” Ramsey raises an eyebrow, glancing up from the phone. “You really think she’d run back there? You already got rid of her apartment; I just don’t see what she could have on that campus to go back to.”
“Just fix the goddamn tracker,” I snap, hitting the gas pedal. The engine roars to life as we speed down the driveway and onto the main road. My pulse is hammering, something dark twisting in the depths of my gut. “And stop asking stupid questions.”
