Page 99 of Wicked Spite
“Listen, old man,” I say, lowering my voice to a dangerous whisper. “You’re barking up the wrong tree. Reagan’s a Blackwood now. You’d best remember that.”
“Blackw—” He tries again, but I hang up, tossing the phone back onto the table with a smirk.
“Well, that was fun,” I say. “Your dad sends his regards.”
The phone buzzes again, persistent as a swarm of hornets. I pick it up, expecting more of the same—threats and anger. But when I answer, my voice is colder, calculated. Funny Penn is no longer in control. “What now, John? Didn’t get enough the first time?”
“Give me my fucking daughter back.”
I scoff, leaning back in my chair as I twirl a strand of Reagan’s hair around my finger. “You must be losing your touch if that’s the best you’ve got. Reagan’s not some helpless girl. Your threats are about as effective as a water pistol at the OK Corral.”
His voice comes through like a storm. “You took a minor,Penn! That’s fucking kidnapping! I’m not talking about Reagan—I want Reese back.” His desperation is tangible, almost pitiful.
I let out a low chuckle. “Reese? She’s safe and sound with me. And if you think calling her a ‘minor’ is gonna make me sweat, you’re dead wrong.”
“Don’t play games with me, Penn,” John growls through the receiver. I can almost see his face turning red, veins popping out of his neck. “I’ll have the authorities on this quicker than you can blink.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I drawl, rolling my eyes. “Call whoever you want. It won’t change a damn thing. Reagan’s my wife now, and her sister is now also my fucking business. That means I’m the one calling the shots. So why don’t you take your empty threats and shove them up your ass.”
“She’s nothing but washed up and dirty since she got involved with your family,” he spits, venom lacing every word. “You’ve tainted her, Blackwood. She’ll never be anything but trash now.”
“Excuse you?” Reagan’s voice cuts through the air, her eyes blazing with fury.
I tighten my grip on the phone, my smirk widening as I glance at Reagan.
John’s voice continues to drone on, but his words fade into a dull roar as my gaze shifts toward Reese. She’s trying to shrink herself out of existence. She’s curled up in her chair, her slender frame almost trembling under the weight of hearing this old fuck’s voice. Her eyes, wide with fear and uncertainty, dart between me and Reagan.
Ramsey must sense it too because he drapes his arm around the back of Reese’s chair, his fingers playing withher hair in a soothing gesture the same way I just did with Reagan. His blue eyes flicker between me and her.
“Just you wait until I get my fucking hands on her. Goddamn Blackwood whore, spreading her legs for every one of you. I just know it. I’m going to scrap her.” The man is ranting, almost forgetting who the fuck he is talking to.
“You’re delusional if you think I won’t call the feds! I’ll have your entire family behind bars by sunrise,” John rants on, his voice cracking with rage and desperation.
I chuckle darkly into the phone. “And what exactly would you tell ‘em, John? Please enlighten me. I’ll wait.”
“And then once every single one of you is locked up, I’ll have you raped over and over as prison bitches until finally you’re killed.” How utterly uninspiring of him. He could at least have the fucking balls to do it himself.
I laugh quietly, but it goes on and on.
“I’d love that, John. Truly,” I quip, unable to resist the pun, “but fine, let’s talk business. You want your daughter back? Meet me at your little abandoned hangar in two hours. We can talk about how you’re going to leave my wife’s name out of your fucking mouth.”
I hang up before he can retort, tossing the phone back onto the table. The confident click of the disconnect is like punctuation to a perfectly crafted sentence.
“Two hours, huh?” Reagan asks, arching an eyebrow. “There’s no fucking way you’re giving him Reese.”
“Please don’t fucking insult me again. Your father is too worked up to think I wouldn’t even bring her,” I say, my voice dripping with suggestion. “It’s called a trap, wife. I can’t believe he has the audacity to threaten me with a minor.”
“You’re insufferable. He forgot her birthday,” she mutters,but she doesn’t move away when I lean closer, my fingers trailing over her arm, igniting sparks wherever I touch.
“You’re not his property anymore,” I reply, leaning against the table with my elbows on the wood.
“You’re damn right I’m not.” Her voice quivers with resolve, and for a moment, I see the raw strength that lies beneath her rage. “I’m going to stand up to him, Penn. Not just for me, but for my sister. He can’t hurt us anymore.”
Jeremiah’s soft cough interrupts the moment. His eyes are sharp, taking in every detail of our interaction. He’s always been the quiet observer, the one who sees everything while saying nothing.
“What’s your take, Jeremiah?” I ask, keeping my tone light but challenging.
“This situation is volatile,” he replies after a moment, his voice calm and measured. “We need to manage the risk carefully.”
