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“Fuck off, Gentley!” I snarled, sending him a heated glare.
“I said I’d call if we had anything,” Tray said tensely, standing just behind me.
“I’m not running off so you can back the fuck off,” I growled over my shoulder.
Tray ignored me. “We don’t have anything, not yet.”
“We’ll wait,” Trent retorted smoothly, jumping on the counter.
“Tray! Yo!” Carter called from the front foyer.
Of all times, this was really the time when I truly, absolutely, with my very last breath, hated that Tray had allowed his house to become the local hangout of the popular crowd. Fuck the circumstances behind the reason.
“Get rid of him. Now.” I snapped.
Tray lost it because he turned on me, “You can stop with this bitch attitude any second now because I’m two seconds from locking you in my bedroom.”
Carter walked in, with Amber and Tristan—of all people—in tow when I retorted, underneath my breath, “Like it’d keep me in.”
Tray clamped a hand on my arm when he turned to greet his friends, “Hey, guys.”
“Whoa.” Carter came to a halt, seeing Gentley and Trent. “Uh…what’s going on?”
“Tea party,” Gentley replied sarcastically.
Amber giggled nervously. Tristan paled. But Carter just grinned and let out a whoop, “Sweet! Is it spiked?” He danced over to Tray and threw an arm around his shoulders, “Seriously, dude. What the hell?”
Tray shrugged him off, but he did it so nicely I doubted Carter even realized he’d been shrugged off. “We’re just talking. What are you guys doing here?”
“Oh!” Carter brightened. “Well, if you have to force it out of me, you have to force it out of me.”
Tristan rolled her eyes.
“But me and Tristan here have a bet. We bet how long it’d take for Amber to get you in bed. Tristan said never, but I have faith in Amber. She knows your old tricks. I give her a good hour, at least.”
Trent swore while Gentley laughed.
Tray sucked in his breath while I wrenched my arm free.
As I stalked forward, I said quietly, dangerously, “Are you able to recognize when someone’s about to commit murder? Because if you don’t, this is what they look like.” I pointed to my face. “I’m at the end
of my rope to play games with you tonight. So if you still want to be here at this school and not have your mommy and daddy get a call from your old school due to some suspicious break-ins, I’d scurry your ass off. Now.”
“Taryn,” Tray said quietly.
I proceeded, “If the bet was really to see how quick you could push my lid tonight, whoever bet a fucking second won. My lid’s been pushed since last week, so if you want to keep pushing it, go ahead. Just don’t come crying to Tray when you get the results full-blast.”
“Taryn, that’s enough.” Tray pushed me back. “Go check on Props. See if he’s got anything.”
“I’m just getting started,” I said smoothly. And it was true. I could go all night. I was in the mood.
“Right now all you’re doing is making yourself look like you have PMS. I don’t think that’s what you want, so go get some results out of Props and then we can talk about moving forward.”
“Tray.”
“No, Taryn. Props. Light a fucking fire under his ass.” Tray shoved me inside and then slammed the door shut.
I turned and saw Props gulping—again—as he took in the look on my face.
