Page 48 of Raging Inferno

Chapter Seventeen

She Deserved More

It was ten days later and still no word from Melissa. I called her, I texted her—I even dropped by her house three times. I knew she was home. I made sure to go at night when Christopher was sleeping and all three times, she left me standing on her stoop.

“Where the fuck is he?”

A familiar voice shouts causing me to round the rig I was inspecting.

“You’re going to have to be a little more specific,” Frankie croons.

“Jimmy the dick Casale,” Melissa’s sister hisses. “I know he’s here. I let the air out of the tires on his truck.”

Fuck.

I guess I had that one coming.

“Jesus, Casale,” Gary hisses. “Is every woman in your life this hot-headed?”

Ignoring him, I make my way to the front of the house and find Frankie blocking Amber, who, I should point out, is holding a baseball bat.

“Now, listen, babe, why don’t you—”

“Who the fuck are you calling babe?” Amber sneers, lifting the bat over her head.

“For fucks sake, calm down,” Frankie growls.

As amusing as it might be to watch these two stand-off against one another, I intercept, pulling Frankie away from Melissa’s raging sister.

“You bastard,” she seethes as her eyes meet mine.

“Nice to see you too, Amber,” I mutter, reaching above her head for the baseball bat. Her grip only tightens, forcing me to tediously pry each finger away until I’m the one possessing it. Some might view Amber as a pain in the ass and say she should learn when to mind her business. Me, on the other hand, admires her spunk. I wish Melissa was as bold and passionate, maybe then she’d fight for us, instead of pretending I never existed.

“You’re a creep,” Amber hisses. “A real fucking creep that deserves to have his tongue cut…amongst other things.”

Okay, maybe she is annoying, and a filter wouldn’t be the worst idea.

“You got something you want to get off your chest, Amber, by all means, go ahead but not here. I’m working,” I say, turning slightly to hand off the bat to Frankie.

“Oh,” she begins, arching an eyebrow. “You’re working. Where the fuck are my manners,” she says, glaring at Frankie who takes a practice swing with her Louisville. “Break it and you buy it, pretty boy,” she says to him before slicing her eyes to me.

If looks could kill, this girl would bury me six feet deep.

“Did you know today is the first day in over a week my sister has gone to work? She’s been sick to her stomach over what you did to her.”

“I don’t know anything because she won’t fucking talk to me.”

“Do you blame her?” she admonishes. “Everything out of your mouth is a fucking lie. Who would want to talk to you?”

Crossing my arms against my chest, I bite the inside of my cheek and check my self-control as I lift an eyebrow.

“Yet, here you are…talking to me.”

“Make no mistake about it, Casale, I want to break your nose too.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“You really are a dick.”

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