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“No you don’t, you bastard,” I whisper as I move like a shadow, hands balled into fists.
I’m intent on killing the fucker who thought they could come into my house and take my favorite car. I creep up to the rear bumper with measured steps, struggling to keep my breath steady. Not because I’m scared of an intruder, but because I’m shaking with rage.
Once the thief turns away, I sneak up to the window and freeze as recognition smacks me in the face.
Sticky fingers.
It’s not just any thief in my car. Not some random thug looking to chop my ride. No, I’ve caught Blair Davis stealing Red, my prized Porsche.
Gemma’s friend and the irritating, infuriating street rat that I play with for my own amusement at school.
The initial shock fades and my hands flex at my sides.
She’s a thorn in my side, pulling her pickpocket tricks right in front of my boys. She doesn’t fear me like she should, her stubborn brazenness like a bug I can’t squash.
This little cockroach just signed her damn death warrant.
The rage comes on fast, unstoppable and all-consuming. It flares like the strike of a match, my entire body burning up with hatred for this bitch.
A rough growl tears from my throat as I rip the door open.
Blair yelps, but it doesn’t satisfy me. Her sleek inky ponytail swings back and forth with her agitated movements as she scurries into motion. She flashes me a look mixed with defiance and frustration.
Not fear, though. And that just won’t fucking do, will it?
“No!” Blair shouts as she tries to scramble across the center console.
I reach in after her, snatching her wrist in a blink before she can get far. Her beat up shoe scuffs against the wheel while she kicks.
“Oh, I don’t think so,” I snap. “Get back here!”
Her foot flies at my face, hitting my ribs when I duck back. I grunt at the burst of pain. Little bitch. The kick caught me off guard, but I don’t release her wrist.
Blair Davis is going to pay for this. I’ll make sure of it.
Tightening my hold on her, I yank on her arm until she yields. When I’ve pulled her from my ride, I cage her in and use my height to trap her against the car.
Her pale cheeks are flushed, but her whiskey-colored eyes are sharp and focused. She looks every inch a hobo, even more than usual in a faded black long-sleeve t-shirt that has a threadbare neckline. There’s no trace she’s sorry, only pissed she got caught.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I snarl.
Stubbornness is all I see on her face. I glare at her. She doesn’t know the monster she’s crossed. What I do to her at school is fucking child’s play compared to what I want to do now.
Blair tests my hold and I clench her bony wrist tighter until her eyes fly around the room.
Giving her a shake, I lean into her face. She locks her gaze on me, tilting her chin up because she is the type of woman to look death in the face and fucking laugh. My lip curls back, and I hiss out a breath between my teeth.
With a grunt, I shove her aside so I can lean in the car to cut the engine. I don’t see the key fob, but she could have it hidden. That’s a problem for later, once I’ve dealt with her. I’m not letting her escape. When I slam the car door, she purses her lips.
“You are in way over your head, you thieving bitch,” I seethe, tightening my grip on her wrist. To drive my point home, I grab her upper arm and squeeze. She’s skin and fucking bones, but it doesn’t stop me. “You’ll pay for this.”
Blair tenses, but still gives me a cool look that makes me grind my teeth.
“Let’s go.” I drag her out of the garage.
Three
Devlin
