Page 21 of Wicked Spite
This place feels suffocating, like a vise grip tightening around my chest. I can’t take another moment of this charade—not with that lecherous old man ogling me and my father pretending everything is perfectly fine. My patience has reached its breaking point, and I need to make my escape before they get me alone somewhere.
“It’s been a fun time, but I’ll see myself out now,” I announce, pushing back from the table with as much force as possible. The sound of the chair scraping against the polished floor echoes through the hushed dining room.
“Reagan!” my father hisses, his face turning an ugly shade of red. But I don’t care. I’m done being pushed around and paraded about like some kind of trophy.
I glare at my father and say, “You’ve got me all the way fucked up if you think I’m going to fuck this old fool because you owe him money.”
Shock and horror would be the only way to describe the old woman’s expression at the table closest to us.
Ignoring Dad’s protests, I storm out of the restaurant and into the parking lot. Determined to put as much distance as possible between myself and that awful dinner, I pull out my phone and open the rideshare app. As I enter my destination and confirm the ride, I can’t help but feel a sense of pride that I didn’t back down this time. My hands are shaking, and I hate that shit. I’m going to pay for this.
“Get your ass back in this restaurant, you little bitch.” My father’s voice cuts through the quiet of the parking lot, but I refuse to let him get under my skin. He may have controlled my life up until this point, but I can’t give him an inch of control any longer.
“To be sold off like a piece of property?” I snap back, my words laced with venom. “You really are a piece of work, you know that?”
The icy grip on my arm stops me in my tracks, and I’msuddenly face to face with my father’s rage-filled eyes. “You think you can just embarrass me like this?” he seethes, his breath hot and angry against my skin.
“Let go of me,” I growl, trying to wrench my arm free from his grasp. But he holds on tighter, his nails digging into my flesh. The pain only fuels my defiance, and I stare him down, refusing to back off.
“Reagan, you will get inside, and you will be good fucking company,” he hisses through gritted teeth. His voice is low and dangerous, but I’ve heard it all before. I’m fucking myself and Reese, but I need a plan and fast because I can’t do this anymore. I won’t.
“News flash, Dad. You don’t control me anymore,” I spit out, my words dripping with acid as I finally rip my arm out of his grasp.
“I will ruin your fucking life, little girl, and your fucking sister’s as well.” He’s practically snarling now, and I can’t help but wonder how we ever ended up like this.
I scoff, my heart racing with anger and adrenaline. “You mean by parading me around like some sort of trophy for your disgusting friends? No thanks.” I wrench my arm free, finally breaking his hold on me. “I said it before, and I’ll say it again. Fuck off and leave us alone.”
I’m about to say fuck the slow ass rideshare when I spot him. My drive-by fucking kisser, sitting on his bike, idling at the edge of the parking lot. A mischievous smile tugs at the corners of my lips as an idea begins to form in my mind.
“Hey, killer!” I call out, sauntering toward him and away from fucking John St. Pierre with unwavering confidence. His eyes widen slightly in surprise, but he doesn’t move, no doubt wondering what the hell I’m playing at. When I’m within earshot, I raise an eyebrow and say with a playful glint in myeyes, “If you’re going to stalk me, you might as well be useful.”
“Is that so?” he smirks, clearly amused by my audacity.
“Yep,” I say, reaching for the helmet he has resting in front of him. “Now give me a ride, and let’s get out of here before my father decides to murder me in public.”
I snatch the helmet from his hand, my fingers brushing against his warm skin. He cocks his head to the side, a single dark eyebrow raised as he appraises me with those penetrating hazel eyes. A slow, wicked grin spreads across his face stretching across his five o’clock shadow.
Behind me, dear old dad is losing his shit. “Reagan! Get the fuck away from that psycho ass Blackwood!” he bellows, his voice booming across the parking lot.
I freeze, the helmet nearly slipping from my grasp. Blackwood? As in THE Blackwoods? Well, fuck me sideways.
He throws his head back and laughs, the sound rich and darkly amused. “Well, well. Looks like Daddy doxxed me.” He leans forward on the bike, pinning me with a smoldering stare. “But it’s true. Penn fucking Blackwood, in the goddamn flesh.”
I swallow hard, my heart pounding against my ribcage.
“You still want that ride, hellfire?” he asks, his voice a low, seductive purr. “Or are you going to run back to daddy like a good little girl?”
“Let’s go,” I command, swinging my leg over the back of the bike. My body presses against his, and I can’t help but notice the warmth radiating from him. It’s almost intoxicating. It’s sad. He’s a certifiable homicidal maniac who clearly has a fixation on me and I feel safer with him than my own father.
“Where to?” Penn asks, his voice low and husky.
“Anywhere but here,” I reply, wrapping my arms around his waist. The engine roars to life beneath us, and we speed off into the night, leaving my father and his twisted world behind.
“Yea, I can do that,” he smirks, revving the engine beneath us. As we speed off into the night, I can’t help but revel in this newfound sense of freedom. For once, I’m in control of my own destiny, and it feels incredible.
“Thank you,” I whisper into Penn’s ear, knowing he probably can’t hear me over the roar of the engine. But it doesn’t matter. For now, all that matters is I’m getting the fuck away from this restaurant and the creepy old men in it.
The wind whips around us, blurring the city lights into streaks of vibrant color as Penn fucking Blackwood barrels through the streets. He jerks the handlebars suddenly, forcing our bodies to collide for a split second.
