Page 86 of Wicked Spite
“Your wish, my command,” Ramsey replies with a mock salute, a smirk playing on his lips. He saunters over to the sedan, fiddling with the keys before popping the trunk open. The thud of the lid hitting the top makes Reese jump.
“Alright, on three,” I growl, grabbing the dead guy by his ankles. His body is already getting stiff, making this even more of a pain in the ass. I should have at least another thirty minutes before bitch ass rigor mortis starts to set in. Just my fucking luck this asshole has to be the exception to the goddamn rule.
“One... two... three.” Ramsey and I lift him in unison. The corpse is heavy, but we’ve done this enough times to make it look almost routine. It’s just a pain in the ass trying to fit a stiffening body into a small ass trunklike this one.
“Jesus, this guy weighs a ton. What was he eating, lead bricks?” Ramsey mutters through gritted teeth.
“Just shut up and get him in the trunk. I don’t give a fuck how we Tetris his ass in there,” I snap back, my muscles straining as we maneuver the lifeless body toward the open car. We dump him inside, folding his arms and legs in like we’re closing up a fucking tripod.
“Done.” Ramsey wipes his hands on his jeans, looking at me expectantly.
“Good. Now listen,” I say, stepping closer so only he can hear. “You take this car to Weston at the junkyard. He’ll make sure it’s done right. No mistakes, no loose ends.”
“Man, come on,” Ramsey protests with a grin that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Why do I always get stuck with the bitch work? Is it because I’m not a ‘Blackwood brother’ and only a cousin?” His voice is laced with playfulness, but there’s an underlying bitterness there. He wants in, he wants to prove he’s more. What he fails to realize is that I don’t ask people to help me with shit. This is me trusting him to do what the fuck I need done so I can take care of my wife because no way in fuck am I taking her with me to the junkyard. The last thing I need is Weston making some smart-ass comment and a jealous wife maiming one of my clean up guys.
“Yeah, yeah,” I say, rolling my eyes as I lean against the car, feeling the cool metal press into my back. “Look at the silver lining. At least you won’t have to hot wire this one.” A smirk tugs at my lips.
“Fuck you,” Ramsey shoots back, but there’s a grudging respect in his tone. “What about the Escalade? What the hell are we supposed to do about that?”
“Leave it,” I snap, annoyance creeping into my voice. “We’ll grab it later. Right now, the priority is getting rid of the body and getting the girls out of here.”
“Great, I get to come out here again with you,” Ramsey mutters, throwing up his hands in mock surrender. He looks over at the girls, Reese specifically, and I smack him upside the head.
“Put ya eyeballs back in your head. She’s seventeen and I don’t give a fuck if you’re still technically in your teens. She’s too young for you right now and you have a job to fucking do,” I order, my voice low and dangerous. “And remember, discretion is key.”
“Always is with us, isn’t it?” Ramsey retorts, climbing into the deceased vehicle. He gives me a final nod before peeling out, tires kicking up dust and gravel in his wake.
I make my way back to Reagan and Reese, who are huddled together, their faces looking even paler in the frigid air. “Alright, let’s get out of here,” I say, trying to inject some semblance of calm into my words.
“Penn,” Reagan tries to say. “We need to talk. There’s?—”
“Not now,” I cut her off sharply, the tension ratcheting up another notch. “We can talk later in private. We move first.” Her eyes flash with anger, but she nods, grabbing Reese’s hand and leading her to my truck.
“Get in,” I order, sliding into the driver’s seat and gripping the wheel tight.
“Penn,” Reagan tries again, softer this time. “Please.”
“Later,” I repeat, starting the engine. Her hand suddenly finds mine, warm and trembling.
And with that, I drive off into the night, the weight of almost losing my wife almost drowning me.
“My dad, he’s making alliances with people who make you look like a saint.”
“Lovely,” I reply, sarcasm dripping from every word. “So, he thinks we’re pawns in his little game of thrones?”
“Reese and I are just collateral,” Reagan retorts, her voice barely a whisper now.
“Women and kids usually are unfortunately,” I say, casting a glance at Reese in my rearview mirror. Her eyes are wide, with a small grimace on her face. “You okay, little hellion?”
“Yeah,” she murmurs, hugging herself tighter. “He didn’t hurt me, not really. Just...my legs just ache from being shoved into the car and all the kicking I was doing.”
“That son of a bitch,” I mutter, feeling rage and protectiveness bubbling up. “He won’t be touching you again. No one fucking will. But first, I gotta get you both somewhere safe.”
“Safe?” Reagan scoffs. “You think anywhere is safe when our father’s involved?”
“Trust me,” I counter, meeting her gaze. “If you think I give one single fuck about your father and his scary business associates…you haven’t been paying attention to the game baby.”
“Like I have a choice,” she snaps, but there’s a flicker of something else in her eyes—something that looks a lot like hope.
