Page 85 of Wicked Spite
As we make our way back up the hill, we hear Ramsey grunting and what sounds like bones breaking. He has the tire iron in his hand and he’s wailing on the dead man who tried to kidnap Reese in the most unforgiving way. Blood spurts and Ramsey pauses only to wipe the droplets from his face. I reach for Reese, thinking that she’s going to be scared of the gory scene, but she’s already tossing off her shoes and running toward Ramsey.
“She’s not as fragile as you think she is. She’s learned a lot from you, I’d say,” Penn tells me, grabbing my hand and linking our fingers together. His finger rubs across my ring before he squeezes my hand four times.
I watch as Reese reaches Ramsey, and he pauses, metal mid-air, probably afraid he’s going to hit her with it. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but I can see her pointing up at him and he’s smiling down at her, like he finds her entertaining.
“That’s my boy,” Penn says even though his cousin is too far away to hear him when Ramsey hands the bloody metal to Reese. I’m shocked when she swings it, trying to hit the man in the face. The iron is too heavy, awkward and heavy for her small frame, so Ramsey guides her, holding the weight of it ashe stands behind her and letting her swing it at the man who would have changed her entire life. She, with his assistance, hits the man over and over until she collapses in Ramsey’s arms. I know what she’s feeling because everything we’ve been through is starting to hit me, too. I feel lightheaded and deadweight all at the same time. I lean against Penn, and he shoulders my weight without complaint.
“She’s not going to date a Blackwood, I’m putting my foot down now,” I say to Penn playfully, because despite what I want him to think, being with a Blackwood really isn’t the worst thing in the world.
“I’ve never seen him like this with anyone. Maybe it’s just because he knows what almost happened to her,” he suggests, shrugging his shoulders.
“Yes, because the Blackwood men are renowned for their sympathetic nature,” I snort, which makes Penn laugh.
“I can’t wait to give him shit about it in the group chat,” Penn tells me.
“I can’t wait to tell her that she should consider becoming a nun if Ramsey is going to be the other option.”
“He’s a good kid,” Penn says, like he isn’t just a few years older than his cousin. “I mean look at him.” I do look and I feel like tearing up at the way he’s holding my sister, her head on his chest and his large hand cupping the side as if to protect her.
“Fine, but if they get married, everyone in attendance is going to be conscious,” I point my finger up at him and he holds his free hand up defensively like I’m a loony toon making things up out of thin air. “Don’t look at me that way, Penn Blackwood. Everyone is conscious. The whole time.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he concedes, pulling me to his chest and kissing the top of my head.
Chapter 31
Penn
Ireluctantly let go of Reagan, like tearing off a bandage that’s not ready tobe ripped off. My fingers linger just a second longer, grazing her shivering shoulders. Damn it. She’s only got a tank top on in this biting cold. I yank my hat off and set it on top of her head. Her hair spills out in angry waves from beneath it. Like a crown of defiance.
“Hold up, hellfire,” I mutter, reaching behind me to pull off my hoodie. One swift move and I’m bare-armed, the night air biting at my skin like a thousand icy needles. It reminds me that I’m alive.
The hoodie’s been through hell—faded gray, but soft as sin inside. I pull the cap back from its temporary home on her head and tug the sweatshirt over her instead. “There,” I say softly, my voice almost alien to me in its gentleness. The cotton swallows Reagan up instantly and something settles in me.
“Thanks,” she whispers, clutching the fabric around herself like it’s a lifeline, and damn if that doesn’t stoke some primal need in me to protect her evenmore fiercely.
Reese barrels toward me like a freight train, leaving my cousin behind. I brace myself for the impact, but she still manages to knock the wind out of me when her tiny arms wrap around my waist. Her head barely reaches my chest, and there’s something almost comical about how this pint-sized hurricane can disarm me so effortlessly.
“Penn!” she squeals, squeezing tighter than necessary.
“Whoa there, little hellion,” I say, patting her awkwardly on the back. My arm feels stiff, mechanical. Physical affection isn’t exactly my forte, but this is my wife’s sister. A little girl who, despite being damn near eighteen still maintains her innocence and something about that strikes the deepest chord in me. Iris and Oakley are basically my sisters, but they have their own grown ass lives and my brothers to take care of them. This sister needs my wife, and she’ll have me to be her fucking guard dog. “Didn’t know you liked me that much. I must be St. Pierre catnip, huh?”
“Shut up,” she mumbles into my shirt, but there’s a hint of a smile in her voice.
I look down at Reese and at least she’s got more sensible clothes on than Reagan, but not much. Leggings and long sleeves aren’t that much of a barrier.
I wait until Reagan has wrapped herself around her sister before I throw open the backdoor to my truck and grab a spare hoodie I keep in there. It feels weighty and I pull my gun out of the pocket. That’s where the fuck that bitch was.
“Reese,” I call out as softly as I can, so I don’t spook either her or my wife and when they both turn to me, I toss the emerald green SCU football sweatshirt her way. She catches it with nimble fingers and quickly slips it on.
Reagan’s eyes soften just a bit at me before she mouths ‘thank you’ and all I do is shrug. I’m not about to have eitherone of my girls freezing their damn asses off while me and Ramsey play clean-up crew.
“Ramsey, get your ass over here!” I call out, breaking the moment. Reese finally steps back to rejoin her sister. I turn to find Ramsey dragging his feet, hands shoved deep into his pockets, blue eyes glinting with curiosity and something darker. My little fucking mini me Blackwood.
The star hockey player in our family. The youngest Blackwood. Our uncle’s only son. Our little tech guru. A certified fucking genius and yet he’s got a demon in him that only I could recognize. One that I helped him nurture and control because I sure the fuck wasn’t going to tell my father about him or let him get his disgusting hands on my baby cousin.
No, Ramsey was mine to protect as well.
“Open the trunk of that fucking Audi,” I instruct, gesturing to the car parked haphazardly on the gravel road. The dead guy is starting to make the place look like a crime scene, which I guess it is. “We need to take care of…the situation.”
