Don’t You Pucking Dare (The Blackridge Reapers #2)

Chapter 38

Practice runs late because Coach is riding our asses about the weekend game. The whole Ravens team is feeling the pressure, and Coach isn't letting up. Thatcher won't shut up about the Halloween party, already planning some elaborate shit with the other guys.

"You coming?" he asks, stripping off his gear.

I nod, already thinking about Lola in whatever costume she chooses. "Yeah, we'll be there."

My girl. The words still feel new in my head. Not just stolen moments anymore—she's actually mine now. The kind of crazy that matches my own, the darkness I've been looking for.

Campus is quieter in the afternoon. I sit through my classes thinking about her dorm room, about dinner, about after. My phone's been quiet all day, but that's normal when she's got practice.

The sun's setting when I head to her building, casting long shadows across the quad. Music drifts from the practice rooms—someone butchering Tchaikovsky. Not Lola though. I'd know her playing anywhere.

When I push open her door, Kiah is sprawled on her bed, textbooks everywhere.

"Can't you knock?" She doesn't even look up from her phone.

I scan the room. Lola's cello case is propped in its usual corner, but something feels off. "Where's Lola?"

"As if I know." Kiah rolls her eyes. "You should know."

"You haven't seen her?"

She finally looks up, frowning. "No. Not since this morning. Why?"

I ignore her, pulling out my phone as I turn to leave. Straight to voicemail. The recorded message of her voice makes my pulse spike.

This isn't fucking normal. Lola doesn't disappear. Lola doesn't ignore my calls. Something's very fucking wrong.

The music building is almost empty this late, my footsteps echoing off the walls. Each empty classroom ramps up the tension in my chest. Her last two classes—nothing. No one's seen her since morning.

I find her professor packing up his stuff, sheet music scattered across his desk.

"Yeah, she was in class, yes." He shuffles through some papers, oblivious to my growing rage.

"Was Amanda in class today?" Every second feels like time I don't have.

He nods, finally looking up. Concern flickers across his face. "Is there something I should know?"

"No." I'm already out the door, phone in hand.

Amanda answers on the first ring. "Hey, stranger."

"Where's Lola?" My voice comes out like ice.

She laughs, the sound grating against my nerves. "Wow, well... uh, she's not here."

"No games, Amanda." I slam through the building's exit door. "Where the hell is she?"

"I don't know. She saw her mom—"

"What?" The word comes out like a bullet.

"Yeah, I don't know. I thought it was cute that her mom—"

I end the call, fingers already dialing Noah. The parking lot stretches out in front of me, and every empty space where Lola's car should be makes my blood run hotter.

"What." Noah's voice is sharp, business.

"Get yourself ready because we have some shit to deal with." I'm already heading for my car, keys cutting into my palm.

"More than I already got?"

"Lola's missing." The words taste like violence. "Her mom fucking took her. I need backup."

"Got it."

"Don't bring Jack."

His laugh is all darkness. "Jack is no longer a Reaper. Turns out he helped out Rick Kemper after all. He isn't a problem anymore."

"Shit."

The sun's almost gone now, casting long shadows across campus. Somewhere out there, Lola's with the woman who haunts her nightmares. But they don't know what they've started—you don't take what belongs to a Reaper and walk away.

The door to her mom's apartment splinters under my boot. Inside, everything reeks of stale cigarettes and desperation. Noah and Thatcher fan out behind me, methodically tearing through the place while I fight the urge to break everything I touch.

Empty drawers hit the floor. Closets spill their secrets. In the bedroom, the nightstand yields a stack of crumpled papers, and one name jumps out like a knife to the throat.

"Nico," I mutter, staring at the number scrawled beneath it.

"What?" Noah snatches the paper, his face going hard. "What the fuck."

He pulls out his phone, puts it on speaker. The dial tone cuts through the chaos we've made of the apartment.

"Nico, you still messing with the Kemper shit?"

His brother's laugh crackles through the speaker, setting my teeth on edge. "You did your part. Now I'm just getting the last part of the puzzle."

"What the fuck? That's not what this is," Noah snaps, knuckles white around the phone.

"You guys got the bad guy, fucking chill, Noah."

"No! What the fuck are you doing now?"

I rip the phone from Noah's hand. "Where the fuck's Lola?"

Another laugh. Casual. Like this is all a game. "Come see for yourself."

The line goes dead. I grab Noah by his shirt, slam him against the wall hard enough to rattle the cheap artwork hanging there. "You fucking said—"

"Back the fuck up, Brody." His voice is steel, but there's something else there. Worry.

"No!" I drive him harder into the wall. His phone pings—a location pin drops in the middle of the state forest.

"We're gonna go get your girl. Fucking relax." He yanks his shirt free, straightening it with practiced calm. "Nico runs his own business. We don't take much part in it. I know I fucking won't."

The drive is silent except for the GPS voice cutting through darkness. Trees crowd the edges of the highway, and every mile marker feels like time I don't have. My hands keep tightening on the wheel, imagining Nico's throat instead.

If he's touched her, if he's hurt her, there won't be enough pieces left of him to bury.

The gravel parking lot marks the end of civilization. Beyond it, nothing but dense forest and the red location pin blinking mockingly in the distance.

"We go where the red dot is." I check my phone one last time before shoving it in my pocket. Noah and Thatcher fall in behind me, three shadows moving into the trees.

The forest swallows sound—our footsteps, our breathing, everything. Branches catch at our clothes. The October air carries the scent of decay and wet earth. Every step takes us deeper into darkness.

"Is your brother normally like this?" I keep my voice low, watching Noah's face in the dim light filtering through the canopy.

"Like what?"

"Not answering the fucking question and sending us to wherever the fuck we are." A twig snaps under my boot, the sound like a gunshot in the quiet.

Noah's laugh has no humor in it. "You have no idea."

The phone shows we're getting close. Fifty yards. Thirty. But I don't need technology anymore—I can feel her. Through the dense undergrowth, past a cluster of ancient oaks, I see her.

Lola. Tied to a massive tree trunk like some kind of sacrifice. Rope cutting into her wrists, head bowed forward, hair hiding her face. The sight hits me like a physical blow, turning my blood to ice.

Someone's going to die for this.

"Lola." Her name comes out rough. "Lola. Duchess?"

She hangs limp against the ropes, unresponsive. Noah works at the knot while Thatcher's knife starts sawing through the bindings. The rope's left angry marks on her wrists.

I grab her face between my hands. Her skin's cold. "Who the fuck did this to you?"

Nothing.

"You better wake the fuck up." My voice turns savage. "The only person allowed to do this to you is me. Do you understand, Duchess? Wake the fuck up!"

She doesn't move. Doesn't make a sound. I can't even tell if she's breathing as I start unwinding the rope from the tree. When she starts to slip, I catch her, holding her weight while Noah works the last strands free. Her body's dead weight in my arms as I lay her on the ground.

"Fuck!"

"Feel for her pulse." Thatcher's voice seems far away.

I press my ear to her chest, trying to hear anything over the blood pounding in my own head. The forest goes quiet, watching.

"She's not dead." The voice drifts from the trees like smoke.

I'm on my feet instantly, leaving Lola on the ground. If she's alive, fine. But someone's about to wish they weren't.

Her mother emerges from behind a massive oak, looking pleased with herself. "She'll wake up eventually. We didn't hurt her too bad." My eyes scan the darkness, looking for someone to destroy, but this bitch is the one who deserves it.

I start toward her, violence in every step, when Nico's voice cuts through the dark. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

"Nico." Noah's voice carries warning. "What the fuck are you doing?"

He gestures at Lola's mom like he's introducing a business partner. "She promised me quite a lot if I took out Rick Kemper."

"Fucking snake." The words barely leave my mouth before I'm moving. I grab her hair, silk-smooth between my fingers, and drive her face into the dirt.

She laughs into the ground. "Ooh, you're feisty. No wonder she likes you."

My grip tightens. "What the fuck do you want from her?"

"I already got it, son. Lola gladly handed it over."

"Bullshit!" I look to Noah. "What the fuck is she talking about?"

Noah won't meet my eyes, staring at his brother instead. "Lola would get an inheritance from her dead father. Not much though sadly, but we know our other half comes when this one turns 25."

Movement catches my eye—Nico, moving toward Lola's unconscious form. Something snaps in my chest. I drag her mother by the hair, ready to end this.

The boyfriend's hand is steady as he levels the gun at my face. "Let her go."

"Whoa." Thatcher's voice cuts through the tension. "Put that fucking thing away."

The gun swings toward Thatcher—amateur mistake. I'm moving before he can correct it, my hand connecting with his wrist. The gun goes flying, landing somewhere near Thatcher in the leaves. My fist finds the boyfriend's jaw, sending him stumbling backward over a rotting stump. While he's down, I turn and drive my boot into her mother's face. Blood sprays across dead leaves.

Nico's slow clap echoes through the trees. "Someone is in love."

"She's under my protection, and you brought her into this mess!" The words tear out of my throat as I watch them crawl toward each other, pathetic and bleeding. "All of this for money!"

"Take Lola and go." Nico says it like he's doing me a favor.

"I'm not fucking done." I grab the boyfriend by his collar, feeling cartilage crunch under my knuckles. He drops, gurgling blood. I turn to her mother, fisting her hair. "Something's fucking wrong with you." The slap leaves a perfect red handprint on her cheek.

"You fucking pussy!" She spits blood. "Hitting a fucking woman!"

My elbow connects with her face. "Oops."

The gun feels right in my hand when I take it from Thatcher. I level it at both of them, huddled together on the forest floor. "I'll fucking shoot one of you if you don't tell me details."

"Noah!" Nico's voice carries an edge now. "Grab your Reapers and take the girl and go!"

I swing the gun toward him. Noah doesn't move to stop me. "How about you shut the fuck up, Nico."

"I won't kill them. Just hurt them a little." The gun feels heavy with promise in my hand. Moonlight catches on the barrel as I adjust my grip.

Noah's voice carries urgency. "Let's get Lola out of here."

I swing the gun back to her mother's face, watching her flinch. Blood from her split lip drips onto her collar. "You're a piece of shit."

She laughs, the sound wet with blood. "Has she fed you the sob story that her mom was a drug addict and never cared about her, huh?" Her eyes go cruel in the darkness. "Did she tell you about all the times I'd rent her out for that drug money?"

Something snaps in my chest. The images flooding my head of what Lola had to endure because of her mother. Shooting her would be too quick, too clean. I want to watch the light leave her eyes. The gun becomes a weapon in a different way as I crack it across her face. Bone gives way under the impact.

Her boyfriend lunges for the gun, desperation making him bold. We grapple in the dirt and dead leaves, the metal caught between us. I let him think he's winning, let him put all his weight into the struggle. When I twist, the gun points straight at her mother. His eyes widen as he realizes what I've done, but it's too late.

The gunshot tears through the night. The sound bounces off trees, sending birds scattering into the dark sky. My ears ring with the echo.

"Fuck!" The boyfriend releases me, scrambling toward her crumpled form. Blood spreads across the forest floor, black in the moonlight. I wipe the gun clean on my shirt, methodical, before tucking it away.

Her mother makes wet gasping sounds as she bleeds out. Nico watches silently from the shadows, his face unreadable. This wasn't his plan, but he's smart enough to keep his mouth shut.

I scoop Lola up from where she lies. She's still unconscious, but her pulse beats steady against my chest as I carry her through the trees. Branches catch at my clothes, marking the path back to where my Range Rover sits in the empty lot.

After laying her across the back seat, I take one last look at the gun. Clean it again, just to be sure, before dropping it in the gravel. Let them find it.

Noah takes my car keys without a word. Thatcher slides into the passenger seat, and I climb in back, cradling Lola's head in my lap. Her skin's warming up slowly, color returning to her cheeks.

As we pull away, leaving the forest and its secrets behind, I run my fingers through her hair. "Wake up, Duchess. The nightmare's over."