Chapter 4
Dagger
Fuck me. She looks like shit. Don’t think I’ve ever seen her look anything other than perfect.
Wynter has always been undeniably gorgeous, but she’s hurtin’.
I’m not sure what the hell is going on with her, but it’s more than just a night of drinking.
Judging by the dark circles around her eyes, you’d think she’s been up for days.
The shower turns on and I take a seat at her desk.
I’m not going anywhere until I get to the bottom of this.
And the first thing I want to know is how the hell she’s getting served.
She’s twenty years old, which means she’s either got a fake ID or someone’s serving a minor. Neither of that shit am I okay with.
I start looking around for her wallet, noting the big stack of books on her desk, which looks like it hasn’t even been touched.
And her notebooks are filled with nothin’ but doodles and sketches.
There isn’t a single note taken for class.
Her drawers only contain some old photos of our cat, Prince.
Wyn loved that little guy. If we ever couldn’t find him, we knew to look in her room.
He was usually curled up with her as she was reading a book.
I shove the pictures back in and search the rest of the drawers but still come up empty.
She must’ve taken a purse last night. But one scan of her room, and I don’t see anything.
I’d rifle through her dirty clothes, but I don’t want her walking out and catching me digging through her dirty underwear. She’ll think I’m a pervert.
Her backpack, laying open against her desk, is my last hope. Gafford Prison. The fuck? The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end as I pull out the letter from within. Motherfucker is not supposed to be contacting her.
Dear Wynter,
It’s been a long time, daughter. Hope you’re doing well, and that that bitch of a mother of yours is treating you right.
How is the stupid cunt anyway? Is she still married to that bastard?
I wish I’d taken his life when I had the chance.
Maybe I’ll get the chance after all. I’m coming up for parole next month and my attorney thinks I have a pretty good shot at getting out.
He says all I have to do is prove that I’m rehabilitated, and with my record of good behavior, I should have no problem being released.
Which is why I’m writing. I need you to come to the hearing and plead my case for me.
If you testify that I’ve changed and that you think I’m fit to be out on the streets, they should let me go.
I don’t think it’s too much to ask. After all, I gave you life and cared for you after your mom ran off with that fucker and left us behind.
I was a broken man and stuck raising a little girl all by myself.
How the hell is anyone supposed to cope with all that and not lose their shit?
I know I didn’t handle things well, but I hope you can understand where my head was at that time.
I’ve since learned the error in my ways and hope you know I would never hurt you again.
If you’ve ever loved me, then you’ll show up at the hearing and do your dad this small favor.
I’ll have my attorney reach out soon.
See you next month, daughter.
Your dad,
Sal Walstom
That motherfucker is going to die. And now I know why Wynter’s gone off the rails.
The letter is dated from last week, which would explain this recent drinking binge she’s been on.
He was warned never to contact her again.
But now he’s trying to give her a guilt trip into testifying for his rotten ass.
Hell will freeze over before I let that man breathe another second of freedom.
I need to have a word with King. It’s time to deal with the bastard once and for all.
The shower shuts off, and I quickly tuck the letter in its envelope and back where I found it. I sit in her desk chair as I wait for her to exit. The door opens and she comes walking out, wearing nothing but a goddamn towel wrapped on the top of her head. Fuck.
“What the fuck are you still doing here, Vale?”
She quickly darts back into the bathroom in her embarrassed panic, but it’s too late.
The damage has already been done. I got the full view and it’s burned into memory.
Two sexy tits, sitting high and tight, and a pink little cunt, completely bare.
Not a single thing hiding it from view. Shit.
Who the hell knew she had a body like that?
I sure as hell never paid attention. I’ve always just seen her as a kid, but she’s turned into a woman.
One hell of one at that. Long legs. Slender waist. And those two full breasts that have my dick standing at attention. In its own state of panic.
I should not be getting hard for her. She’s my fucking stepsister.
When the door opens again, I can barely look up from the steel toes of my boots.
I don’t want her to see my thoughts on my face.
My entire system is running hot. Dick to cheeks, I feel my blood burning.
Thankfully, she’s wrapped herself up in an extra-large towel this time, but it does nothing to erase what’s already permanently engraved in my thoughts.
“Do you mind? I need to change.”
She’s aggravated, but her cheeks are bright red.
She doesn’t have to ask twice. I’m out of the chair and making a beeline for her door, taking in a lungful of air as soon as I’m out in the hall.
Curvy hips. And a pretty little cunt with glistening lips still wet from her shower.
It’s a smooth runway for a tongue, making it real easy to access that clit.
Jesus Christ. I need it to stop.
I head downstairs to the kitchen, going straight to the sink to splash some cold water on my face.
It does nothing to wash the thoughts away, so I try the fridge.
Sticking my fucking head inside the freezer, I study the contents to distract my thoughts.
Her stomping feet entering the room means my time is up.
I shut the door and take a seat at the table, tucking my stiff dick away from view. She stalks to the fridge, ignoring me, and starts pulling out food. Pasta, bread, and parmesan cheese. I don’t know where she fucking puts it. It must all go to those tits, and that ass, and those hips. Fuck.
“So, are you going to tell me what’s going on?” I ask, trying to get my shit together. I already have a pretty good idea at what’s triggered her outburst, but I’d like to hear it from her lips.
“Nothing is going on. I went out with friends, got drunk, and came home late. Mom flipped her shit, and I’m guessing she called you.”
“My dad is the one who called. They’re worried about you, Wyn.”
“I’m not an alcoholic if that’s what she’s thinking. I went out with my friends, that’s it.”
“It’s not just the drinking. It’s the fact that you’re not going to class. They don’t want to see you forfeit this opportunity. You have a chance to make something of yourself. Your mom doesn’t want to see you fuck up your chance.”
Despite that bad attitude she’s got, Wynter is actually a smart girl. She graduated in the top sixth percent at her school and got a scholarship covering her tuition. The girl could fucking go places if she applied herself.
“My classes are online, so I can watch them whenever I want.”
She shovels another forkful of pasta, looking like she’s nursing one hell of a hangover and hoping those carbs will be the cure.
“And how are your grades doing?”
There’s a flinch in her eyes before she shrugs like she doesn’t give a shit. I’m guessing that means she’s failing. Dad was right. I think she’s steps away from dropping out. Which I will not allow.
“You’re going to come stay with me,” I state.
Her head jerks up, those pretty eyes looking like there isn’t a chance in hell.
“What? Are they kicking me out?”
“No. But this shit needs to stop, and I’m going to make sure it does.”
I like Gladys, but I’ve always felt she handles the situation with Wyn wrong.
When Wyn came to us, she was a broken little girl.
And instead of getting her help, and putting her in therapy, Gladys acted as if nothing was wrong.
She ignored the fact that her daughter was waking up in the middle of the night with night terrors.
I was the one that went in and comforted Wyn.
Night after night, I held her and rocked her to sleep, and eventually they stopped.
Which to Gladys meant that everything was okay.
But clearly, Wyn is struggling with her demons.
“I’m not staying with you and your biker gang, Vale. If Gladys and your dad don’t want me here, I’ll go crash with one of my friends.”
Not a chance in hell. I don’t trust a single one of her deadbeat friends. They’re a bad fucking influence on her. And it’s obvious how that scenario would play out. She’ll end up being some guy’s fuck toy and may wind up getting hurt.
“It’s not up for discussion, Wyn. As soon as you’re done eating, we’re going to pack your shit.”
Her fork drops into the glass dish, clanking against my nerves. She’s giving me one hell of an icy stare, but it’s not going to work. I shift forward, matching that locked brow with one of my own.
“I’m not a kid, Vale. You can’t tell me what to do. And besides, I can’t go with you. I have classes.”
“Like you said, you can watch them online. Now, finish up your food, so we can head out.”
I need to get back so I can talk to King about her dad. We’re gonna have to find someone on the inside willing to take the bid. I’d kill the man myself if they let me. But unfortunately, that’s not an option.