Page 18 of Manhattan Tormentor

She’s also my best friend.

Petite in frame with long blonde wavy hair, she has an outspoken mouth and a temper to match. She can outsmart the smartest man and manipulate to make you think the dumbest shit was your idea. And we adore her.

Being the youngest, she gets away with a lot of shit because she bats her baby blue eyes and acts like an angel.

She knows how to wind dad around her pinkie finger by pouting and playing her little innocent girl act. Us boys have fought more of her battles than anything else, and I’m 47% sure we’d take a bullet for the brat.

I watch Raene, or Bunny as we’ve always called her, stride across the common room toward me. Dressed as always, like she’s going to a party. She’s a year younger than me and probably fifty times more confident than any person here.

“You’re a hard one to find,” she huffs, sitting at my side. “Why haven’t you been answering your phone?”

I check it and see I’ve turned it to airplane mode.

“What’s up, you in trouble again?”

It’s not unusual, so I brace for something weird and Raene-like, that I must get her out of. The last time was when she started a pyramid scheme and conned a bunch of seniors out of their money. Yeah, that shit was not fun.

“Why do you always think the worst of me?” She tries to sound hurt, but I know her better. Arching an eyebrow, I wait her out until she sighs. “No, I’m not in trouble. Not yet, anyway. I’m skipping English. Do you have anything to eat? I’m out of cash.”

A non-shocking bombshell. I’m betting it is make-up related. Like she doesn’t get enough allowance already. She forever needs more gloss or whatever-the-fuck she likes to slather on her face to make it look like she’s not wearing any make-up at all.

Raene is beautiful, but as girls are at sixteen, she’s desperately insecure about her looks. It only took one moron last summer to call her chunky to have her obsessed with dieting. En masse, the Fierro boys made the idiot apologize to her.

Digging into my bag, I bring out an apple, mixed nuts and a protein bar. She rips into all three, then she steals my can of soda. Leaning into my arm, she looks over my notebook. It’s an illegible mess of scribbles because I haven’t been able to concentrate in days.

No guesses why.

“What you working on?”

“Nothing right now.” My pen obsessively taps the spine.

It’s frustrating to know my brain is more occupied with a set of lips than it is working out my engineering problem.

“Are you genius blocked?”

I snort, amused. “Something like that. It’s doing my fucking head in.”

“It wasn’t easy for Einstein either, but he got there.” The little brat ruffles my hair and clicks her tongue. “Keep at it, I want to live off your mega invention money one day.” She’s finished eating and pushes her debris back my way. Sighing, I amble over to the trash can.

I was gone no more than thirty seconds. But it’s long enough for Maverick to be leaning over the table talking to my sister.

I go postal inside.

I see red for a lot of reasons. Some of them fury, most of it is jealousy watching his smirk morph into a genuine smile, but the top tier reason is anger that he’s. Talking. To. My. Baby. Fucking. Sister.

My steps close the space. Before I know it, I’ve pushed his shoulder so Finn isn’t leaning over the table looking at Bunny. “Don’t care what you want. Fuck off, Maverick.”

His smirk returns as he rises to his full height. Crossing both arms over his wide chest. “No need for violence, Fierro. I was only saying hello to your lovely sister.”

Raene blushes, but she’s my sister first. And this means if I’ve gotten in someone’s face, he’s her enemy too.

The way he switches his steel-like gaze to Raene makes my spine lock up in place. Every bone calcifies with anger. Though some of it is protective big brother instincts, I’m ashamed that most of my feelings are jealousy.

Jealous for how he’s smiling at her without derision curling his sexy fucking boy lips.

“You shouldn’t piss off my brother.” Bunny snaps.

Good girl, she listened.

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