Page 101 of Crybaby

“Hello…Daddy.” I smirk because as far as family reunions go, this is fucking stellar.

The guests’ adoration turns to disgust when it’s revealed what a dirty player Walter Beckett truly is. The hometown hero and his son are seen for the vile bastards that they are.

Not only have I shamed the Becketts, but half the town’s judges, councilmen, and whoever else had a hand in protecting a sociopath.

My job here is done.

“I would love to stay and chat, but I’ve got places to be. Move, golden boy.”

Carson’s gaze is rooted on his father, pleading he help him, but he is shit out of luck.

Walter appears stunned he’s been outplayed by someone like me. But little does he know, he made this monster. “You follow me, and I swear to fuck, I will kill him. You owe me.”

Walter stands arrogantly, never wavering, because I know this isn’t the end…this is just the beginning as Carson suddenly grows a pair and elbows me in the stomach, catching me unawares.

He wrestles me for the gun, while the other I have trained on Darcie, warning her if she moves, I’ll shoot her. There’s no way this will be for nothing. If she so much as hints that she’s a willing participant, then she’s going to go down with me.

But not on my watch.

Carson and I wrestle with the gun, and I hate to admit the asshole has the upper hand, thanks to me being stabbed, beaten, and hit in the knee with a torch, but there’s no way this ends with Carson being the hero.

We fight desperately, and the hysteria of the crowd grows. I know I have seconds to overpower him before security shoots up this stage. Carson reads my injuries, and when he punches me in the shoulder, I loosen my grip on the gun but don’t let go.

However, I sag on impact, which results in Carson’s finger pulling the trigger and firing blindly into the crowd. The crowd screams in absolute terror as their fancy attire is now showered in blood.

“Holy mother of fuck,” I pant, tears in my eyes. “I think I can see his wisdom teeth in that woman’s hat.”

The woman’s trembling fingers search the brim of her hideous hat and when her hands come away red, she faints beside a headless Blake because Carson shot his fucking head off.

I can’t take it any longer and holler in hysterics while Carson peers down at the oozing pile of meat that used to be his “bro.”

“At least he’s safe from Coach Anderson giving him a facial ’cause ya know…he has no face.”

A single sob gets caught in Carson’s throat as he looks at Blake—or rather, what’s left of him.

“Killer aim.”

“It was an accident!” he screams, shaking his head.

At least he has a head to shake…

Party time is over, however, when bullets begin zipping around the room. I’ve created mayhem and panic, and I’ve also just pinned a murder on Carson.

Let’s see his daddy try to bail him out this time.

This is perfect. The list of crimes keeps growing, and I don’t even have to try. Go me.

I grip Darcie by the crease of the elbow, and she struggles, which merely reinforces my whole kidnapping ploy. The crowd runs for cover, which inhibits a clear shot for security. I lead my victims out the back door by gunpoint to the garage, where I head for the hotted-up truck.

Carson appears to be in shock, but just for good measure, I shove him into the back seat and cuff him to the seat.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” Darcie screams, ready to rip out my throat.

But I ignore her and tap the front leather seat with the gun. “Get in.”

Darcie folds her arms across her chest in defiance. “Fuck you, Rev. Fuck you and your self-sacrifice bullshit!”

“Baby…” I coo, stepping close.

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