Page 3 of Wicked Deceit
I wrinkle my nose, standing in the middle of the front yard. A cool draft blows across my legs, and when I look down, I’m standing in my damn boxers.
“Shit!” I curse, storming back into the Maze House, shoving off my shoes, and putting on a pair of jeans. Once I’m satisfied I’ve put myself together enough to make it to the hospital, I grab my keys and high tail it to Grumpy’s apartment, despite the time of night and the fact I’m about to not have an asshole. He’s going to murder me.
My heart hammers in my chest when I stand outside his apartment door, pounding on it like my fucking life depends on it. Because it does. Accident. Hospital. Seger’s words replay in my mind over and over. Shit! What about Kaycee? Zepp? Where are they? Are they there? They have to be!
“Open up, you dickless fucker!” I hiss through the wood, trying to keep my voice low enough not to draw attention to me. But I also want this asshole to hear me.
“You and I both know I’m not fucking dickless,” Carter growls, grabbing me by the collar of my shirt and tossing me inside his messy ass apartment.
I grunt, rolling on the floor and landing on my back with an oomph.
“Fuck you want, Elf Ears? I thought I made it pretty fucking clear I didn’t want to speak to you,” Carter grunts, standing above me.
I grind my teeth when he pushes his foot into my chest with enough pressure to knock the air from my lungs. Jesus, is this what it’s like to die from suffocation?
“Seger’s in the hospital. And Zepp and Kaycee are missing.” I gasp out, relieved when his foot leaves my chest. My head falls back onto his sticky floor, and I secretly hope I’m not laying in leftover spooge he forgot to clean up.
“The what?” He growls, reaching down to grab me by the shirt again. He pulls us nose to nose, forcing our faces together as he snarls at me. “THE WHAT?” He shouts, shaking me in his fist.
Well, if I thought suffocation by his foot on my chest was bad. This is fucking worse. I grunt, throwing a weak fist into his temple to get him the hell off me. He stumbles back, dropping me to my feet. Sheesh, finally. I straighten my shirt and throw him my best scowl as I right my damn hair and smooth it back into place.
“The hell do you think I was calling you for? Shit! They’ve been missing all night. I finally got a hold of Seger ten seconds ago. I’ve been in fucking limbo! And now we need to get to the damn hospital,” I shout, getting into his snarling face, poking a finger into his hard as hell chest.
Could this asshole rip me in half with his hands? Yes. Yes, he could. But I don’t care. I’m tired of him shoving me around. I lift weights damn it! I should be able to take him on.
His nostrils flare as he stares me down, his fists clenching. “Anything else? She fucking okay? Did you fucking talk to her?”
“Just Seger. He doesn’t know anything. So, I came straight here to get you since you wouldn’t answer your fucking phone,” I say through clenched teeth. “Can we go yet?”
“Let’s get the fuck out of here and go find our fucking girl,” Carter says, swiping a trembling hand down his face.
He walks toward his desk and shuts his computer down. Paperwork is strewn across the surface, and he pushes it together and shoves it into a locked drawer.
“What the hell were you doing?” I ask, wrinkling my brow when he looks back at me with a fallen face.
“More research,” he mumbles, grabbing his jacket and putting it on. “Now, stop asking me stupid fucking questions, and let’s get out of here.” He mumbles something else beneath his breath, but I don’t catch it.
What I do catch is the emotions he’s trying to suppress to the back of his throat. But he can’t fool me. Cruel Carter feels, and I’ve seen it on more than one occasion. When he does though, it always involves our Kaycee.
Everythinghurts,andI’mfucking dying, and no one will tell me anything. I’m going to jam my fist down someone’s throat in two seconds if I don’t get some goddamn answers. I check the clock on the wall, grinding my teeth at the incessant fucking ticking. 2:30 A.M. Why the fuck can’t I get any answers?!
“WHERE THE FUCK ARE THEY?” I shout again, pounding against the stupid hospital bed I’m bound to with IVs and a heart monitor. I’m ten fucking seconds away from pulling these fuckers out of my arm and walking the fuck out of here! “It’s been hours!” I shout again in a pained voice. I’ve been here unconscious for what felt like hours on end, and when I finally woke up, I was way too out of it to make any decisions.
A frazzled nurse, tired of my shit, peeks into the room with a frown, shaking her head for the millionth time. It’s only been a few hours since they brought me here—apparently unconscious. From the moment my eyes popped open, and I registered where I was and what the fuck happened to me, I’ve been a terrible patient.
“Mr. West,” she sighs, pulling the curtain back to reveal herself. “You were in a serious car accident. You need to calm down before you rip your stitches open. Again,” she growls the last part, tsking at me like a child. She shoves her hands into latex gloves and examines the stitches on my forehead, making sure to poke harder than necessary. Fair enough, I fucking guess. I’ve been one shithead of a patient. But if they told me shit, then maybe I wouldn’t be yelling like a banshee. Shaking her head, she backs away, muttering something under her breath. Probably about how excited she is that I'll be discharged soon.
“I won’t stop until I know my brother and girlfriend are okay. Are they here? Will you tell me anything? You have to understand,” I plead, turning on all the charm.
I bat my eyelashes and fold my hands together, but she doesn’t buy it. Damn it, where’s Benoit and his charm when you need him? He could talk her out of her damn old woman panties and get her to tell me anything I wanted to know. But no, he's not here, and I have no fucking way to get her to open up.
“You know I can’t tell you anything about her,” she says, moving toward my IV bag, hanging from a metal arm above me. The machine it’s attached to beeps an obnoxious song, making my damn ears ache. I groan, rocking my head from side to side, trying to drown it out.
“But my brother?” I ask, watching her punch the buttons with a heavy sigh.
“I’m right here.” My damn heart leaps from my chest when that pale mother fucker walks through the curtain with bloodstained clothes. He grimaces, limping into the room with a groan. “I could hear your screams down the hall,” he hisses between clenched teeth, pain shooting through his face when he takes another step. Squeezing his eyes shut, he takes several deep breaths and freezes.
“You’re not supposed to be out of bed,” the nurse gasps, hurrying towards him. Curses slip from her lips, mumbling about him being up and walking around before he’s ready. But he waves her off, sending a scowl in her direction, making her huff in annoyance. She narrows her eyes between the two of us and places her hands on her hips like she’s about to rip both of us new assholes.
