Rampage (Ruthless Tendencies Series Book 4)

by D. M. Burns

  He’d simply flip me off at the front door then slam the chamber so hard in my face it’d produce a few wood chips in the aftermath. Bouncing those wooden pellets off my forehead, landing lightly on the front of my shirt in an angry dusting of sorts. That guy has some serious anger issues that I’m smart enough to steer away from.

  Ramp’s momma took pity on me though. She made it a part of her everyday chore list to drive me back to my house. I found myself on more than one occasion fighting with the back and forth theories for her kindness.

  At first, I thought that maybe she was aggravated with my constant persistence. Honestly, she didn’t act like she was bothered but if that were the case it sure didn’t explain why she’d go out of her way to take me home every day. Maybe her charity chariot was because she wanted a break from all the men that invaded her life, highly likely. Or perhaps she just simply felt sorry for me.

  If I had to guess it was a little bit of all the above. I recall the last day that she drove me home. It’s kinda hard to forget something like that. It’s carved into my brain like Ramp’s name was engraved on that money clip I gave him.

  As the tears streaked my cheeks, Mrs. Carter folded her hand over mine giving it a reassuring squeeze as she pulled into my driveway. She put her car into park and unbuckled her seatbelt then turned to me in her seat.

  “You know Lena, all of my boys are special to me. They each have their own unique qualities.” She looked off through her windshield then back to me. “I won’t tell my other boys, but Slade is my most special design. He’s always been the most compassionate, loving, and sensitive one out of them all. The levels of depth to him go far beyond anyone I know.” His actions over the last six months prove different, but I keep that to myself.

  “I just don’t know what I’ve done to him. Not one clue Mrs. Carter. And well, you know yourself that he won’t talk to me.” She squeezed my hand again and I wiped at the warm tears trailing down my face then I looked back up at her.

  “Whatever it is, he’ll come around. Just give him some time to sort through it. Boys are funny that way.” Her smile was one that told me she wasn’t so sure of her words, but she was hoping for the best, for me.

  “Okay, sure. I understand.” I licked my salty tear covered lips and then pull on the door handle to get out of the car before thinking better of it. Spinning back around to Mrs. Carter, I asked, “Could you tell him something for me please?” Her good nature left her nodding her head yes. “Please tell him that he broke his promise to me, and I won’t ever forget it. He used his one-time pass. And well, uhm… I won’t bother him no more but that goes both ways.”

  Mrs. Carter looked at me with sympathetic eyes and she smiled sadly. She thought I was a fragile but torn little girl and for the most part, she was right. But there was a key ingredient that she was totally oblivious to. I was also a really pissed off feisty Irish girl fuming from mounting embarrassment due to Rampage’s asshole ways.

  I promised myself that day that no one would ever look at me like that again over Rampage Slade Kyle Carter. One time pass my ass. He cashed those coins in that day. I just hoped that he was okay with what he bought for himself.

  Once the principle was done with his spill and speech, Paige and I make our way through the crowded hallways. As we excitedly talk about our classes, I remember that I still need to drop by my locker and relieve myself from having to carry my heavy bookbag around.

  “I’m gonna run by my locker right quick and drop off my bookbag then double back. You go ahead and I’ll be right behind.” I say.

  “Alright, chick. See ya after class.” She says.

  Paige continues down the hall managing to catch the eye of every horny guy in her path. Giggling as I turn the corner, I slam headfirst into a hard wall of man-boy bricks that smells oddly familiar. Stumbling backward, I swing my arm out catching onto a row of lockers lining the wall at my side before I tumble on my ass.

  “Holy shit… I’m so sorry. I uhmmm.” My words are about as unsteady as my balance.

  Holstering my bookbag back up and tucking loose hairs behind my ear that broke free in the chest collision, it clears my visibility. When I focus in, Rampage’s steely death traps are glowering back at me. Dear sweet Jesus. The look he’s giving me is one of pure disgust. It’s like he just trampled over Lord Voldemort’s biological baby sister and the spell cast out for his infraction is that of a shit lingering stench.

  “Fuck sakes… Watch where you’re going, fire bandit.” He snarls back at me. After an entire year of nothing but radio silence, this is what he chooses to say to me, great. That stings but I jut my chin out and roll with it.

  He knows I hate being called names that relate to my hair color. It’s the exact reason why he’s doing it too. Damnit, this is my first day in high school and I really don’t want that shit to catch on. The eyes and ears here are of the worst kind. They’ll latch onto evil trickery to take the spotlight away from them. It’s a level of cruelty that surpasses my kind rationality.

  When I hear snickering coming from just beyond Rampage’s shoulder, I tilt my head to the side and see Jackson and Cash Davis, fucking great. Cash is not a factor; he’s cool in a cold, quiet sense but Jackson is a totally different story altogether.

  Jackson is the sole reason why punching men in the dick should become a national sport. A walking justification in the flesh, this dick-right here. Rolling my eyes, I happen to notice that I’m standing right in front of my locker, cool. Top locker spot too, convenient.

  Returning my attention back to Ramp, I work my bookbag off my shoulders and let it drop to the floor. Quirking my brow, I cross my arms over my chest and cluck my tongue.

  “Don’t call me that, yeah?” My calm tone should be a red flag warning to the asshole standing in front of me. “It was an accident. I didn’t mean to run into you.”

  “That’s funny because from what I heard you damn sure had no problem running after Rampage every single day for about six months, yeah?” Jackson says while tossing his arm over Ramp’s shoulder and chuckling. Ramp just stares at me like he has something he wants to add but he holds it tight behind a bad case of lockjaw. My eyes slide over to Jackson.

  “Who are you? Like, really…” I fan my hand out in question.

  It’s rhetorical. I know who this instigating idiot is, but his relevance in all of this is what I’m confused about. Plus, I’m a little hurt that Rampage has apparently made fun of me to this asshole.

  “Stop playing, firecracker. You know exactly who I am.” Jackson says.

  “Yes, Jackson. I’m aware that you’re the jizz your momma should’ve swallowed. That much I know to be facts. So, you got me there. But keep up the name-calling, and you’ll end up on that ground position again that I saw you in the last time, Mr. TKO.” I pop my knuckles and wink at him.

  Jackson’s eyes flare at that and I feel victorious. Yeah, that wasn’t very ladylike, but I said what I said. That angry Irish girl is getting her feathers ruffled up. I can’t stand this guy. Plus, people are starting to stare. He’d be a great example to set for the up and coming four-year precedence.

  Cash quirks one brow at me. I’m not sure if this is his way of agreeing with me, like a silent approval. Or maybe it’s just his surprise at my statement. If that’s the case, then that makes two of us. I shrug my shoulders and turn my attention to the task of opening my locker. I don’t have time for this shit. I’ve got to get to my class.

  “Damn, an attitude like that has to be sporting a fire crotch below. I’ll be sure to ask my brother later for confirmation. Maybe he’ll remember.” Rampage growls. What the ever-loving hell?... I need to talk to Renegade later but first I’ll deal with this asshole.

  “I’ll save you the trouble, Ramp. Because that’s one thing neither you nor your brother will ever know about me. But FYI, I’m not sporting a carrot strip downstairs. What about Isabella, hmmm?” I screech.

  Those hurtful words coupled with his willingness to participate in p
ublicly humiliating me, YET AGAIN, sets me off in a bad way. Without a thought for my actions, I free the lock on my steel door and swing it open with all the strength I have. It smacks Rampage right in the face, ending with a rewarding whacking sound. My inner Irish girl pops the top on a beer and chugs away in celebration.

  Rampage’s grunted response is more of a low growl as the door ricochets off his forehead swaying back my way. There’s a large open gash above his right eye and my stomach bottoms out. Oh, God. The flow of dark red blood cuts a path down his beautiful, shit-handsome, face as he smirks at me with evil lacing the outline.

  “You feel better now, pretty girl?” His voice sounds cold, calm, and collected but there’s an edge of raw emotion that I know lives in him. I heard it. I feel it. I also ignore it.

  “Damn, red on the head… What the fuck is your problem?” Jackson’s voice is strained, and he takes a step back.

  For the first time since I’ve known Cash, I actually hear him chuckle. If it weren’t for the dramatic scene and all the blood oozing out right in front of me, I’d be impressed with myself.

  “Shut up, you dick… Don’t speak to me.” I pull a Rage and flip Jackson off then jerk my bookbag off the ground and fish my gym shirt out. “Jesus, I didn’t mean to do that, Slade. Well, maybe a little but not slice you open. Shit.” My voice quivers and I think I might throw up.

  I struggle to swallow the guilt-ridden lump caught in the back of my throat. Perhaps, I’m holding onto a lot of anger. Okay, maybe A LOT. But seeing Rampage physically take a hurtful hit from my own evil actions have my insides flipping out.

  My hands tremble as I raise the shirt to cover the huge wound above his eye. But Ramp latches his large hand over my wrist halting my attempt to help stop the bleeding that I’m responsible for. There’s so much blood. It’s covering the right side of his beautiful face and coating a path down his neck. I can’t stop looking at it. Using his hold on my wrist, he jerks me forward until his lips are right beside my ear so no one else can hear.

  “That’s how it feels in my chest, every motherfucking day, Len. Unlike the last slash to the soul, this is a clean cut. As far as I’m concerned you died last summer. Stay far the fuck away from me.” His voice is void of life. Oh, holy shit. I’m dead to him??? What the hell did I do last summer?

  Maybe it’s all the blood loss getting to him or the fact that he simply hates my guts. He lets go of my wrist and moves past me heading for the medical office. As I stare at his back, I slump against my locker. Jackson is following right behind him. What the hell did I do? I mean, other than gash his face open. I need to talk to Renegade. That shit should be interesting. Holy shit, I’ve really got to check my temper.

  Covering my chest with my hand, I try to calm my breathing. My eyes are filling with unshed tears and I look over at Cash. He surprisingly looks amused and he’s shaking his head at me. I quirk my brow at him.

  “I really didn’t mean to do that.” I don’t expect Cash to respond because he never does but talking will calm my nerves, even if it’s a one-way convo, maybe.

  “Personally, I think Ramp got what he deserved. Plus, what you said about the douche that is my brother simply means you have a brain. See you around Carter. Much respect for you.” Cash winks at me then he casually makes his way through the hall. This entire day is fucking bizarre.

  “OH. MY. GOD.” I look up when I hear the semi-screech coming from down the hallway. Paige comes barreling at me. “Is it true that you gave Rampage Carter stitches?”

  Groaning under my breath, I let my head fall back against the lockers. Holy shit, it’s not even been five minutes. I stand and slam my locker shut, grab my bookbag then move my ass toward class. I’ll probably be expelled before my next class even rolls around.

  chapter 13 – Rampage

  Leading Len out of the elevator into my top-level penthouse located here at Aces Down, her expression transforms from suspicious to intrigued as she surveys my casa. She’s more curious about where I spend my downtime than she is about what I have on my mind with her.

  Cupping her lower back, I guide her down a few steps into the stark white-walled living room. The wood flooring is a deep blood red stain and expands the length of the home here. The massive blood red, black spider web marble fireplace is its own work of art. The damn thing is a sight to behold when flames are blazing out of it too.

  In the middle of the gigantic space is a Persian white rug with five stark white couches surrounding the living room area highlighting the redwood floor visual effect. The real attraction here, other than the marble fireplace, is the wall to ceiling windows that open up to the outside world placing you ringside for a tiny glimpse of what God’s view must be like from high in the clouds.

  Many nights I sit here, watching the silent rain fall from up above only to find myself enjoying the bright beautiful orange sphere as it rises in the distance come morning. It’s my favorite seat in this place. There is a dedicated TV wall for entertainment but mostly I enjoy the view on the other side of my windowed wonder.

  I make my way over to the bar area outfitted with lush stools and the finest alcohol selection made available. I shrug my coat off and toss it over the bar then loosen my tie leaving it to hang around the collar and undo the top three buttons of my shirt.

  When I spot the chilled bucket of ice with my requested bottle of wine plus glasses, I smile. Pouring us both a healthy glass, I seat the bottle back then study Len as she examines the detail and design of the light, airy space.

  “OH. MY. GOD.” She found the pictures no doubt.

  On either side of the corridor walls that lead down the hall, you’ll find decades of memories in the form of family portraits. A variety of moments with my parents and all of us boys. Pictures of the infamous Chaos Cousins standing in front of Club Chaos with cheesy ass grins on our faces when we first took over the club. Brogan and I on opening night here at Ace’s Down popping the top of a celebratory bottle of champagne.

  Professional promo shots of Rage’s first career bout that include all four of us. Snapshots of me and Ren in little league together. Hell, there’s even a picture of Rebel as a tike pulling the legs off of what I believe to be a grasshopper, although I’m not sure. That guy is fucking special. I’m sentimental like that though. Family means a lot to me.

  That thought has my stomach turning in a hateful way as I stare down into my glass thinking about a certain twin brother and this little redhead that’s stirring around my place. What the fuck am I doing? Oh, yeah that’s right, I’m satisfying my yeti dick needs, period.

  “I love the family insider view. It’s so inviting and much-needed warmth here. Plus, it shows a sweet side of you that I’m sure most don’t get to see” Her voice sounds distant, seemingly lost in thought. “It’s so cool. Hey, what’s Rebel doing to that grasshopper? Wait a minute… Is that even a grasshopper?” Her voice sounds confused, and she shrugs her shoulders while moving away. Those heels click-clack on the hardwood as she rounds her way back into the living room.

  “Your guess is as good as mine. If I had to place money on it, I’d say he was amputating its legs. He’s a twisted little fucker.” Her nose scrunches up and I chuckle.

  Leaning into the bar, I tilt my glass back and watch as she slowly moves over to the view. She presses her forehead to the clear barrier and starts to sway. Her makeup impression will be there when she moves away. The girl never did like heights. Why she’s doing that, is beyond me. She takes a couple of unsteady steps back and giggles.

  “Come here, Lena,” I say.

  Her body turns to me slowly in a sassy way and those icy barriers stare at me. It’s like a silent challenge. One where she’s telling me without words that if I want her, I can come get her. Okay, babe-game on. Winking at her, I grab her glass of wine and move that way. When I come to a stop right in front of her, I hand the glass over and she doesn’t hesitate in tossing it back.

  “Damn, that’s good stuff.” She finishes off the wine
and smacks her lips. “You have a really beautiful place, Rampage. I’d feel special if I weren’t one of many that have graced the inside of these walls.”

  She winks at me like my snatch sleeping habits are a shared secret between just her and I. I smirk to myself because she’ll be surprised to know that she’s the only person, outside of those displayed in the pictures on the wall, that’s been in my personal confines ever, my space.

  “Not even Jules has been beyond that elevator.” I point in the general direction then finish, “But thank you for that vote of critical confidence.”

  Her mouth falls open and then she shuts it quickly making her lips turn into a hard-pressed line. I save her the trouble of filtering through her snarky comebacks by taking her hand and leading us back over to the bar. After I’ve provided her with a refill, I set my glass down and turn to her.

  “I really shouldn’t drink anymore but oh, alright.” She tilts it back clearing the contents then places the glass on the bar top.

  “Ramp, I’m not sure what it is that you think is going to happen here, but you can keep that adventurous yeti to yourself.” She smiles wide and points at the center of my business boy pants then snort laughs.

  That reaction from anyone else would be unattractive but it’s just fucking cute coming from this one. She grabs the wine bottle out of the ice and foregoes the glass drinking it straight from the bottle.

  “Let’s slow down a little, yeah?” I wrap my hand around the bottle and lower it down to the bar with a friendly smile in place. Len’s nervous but she need not be. This is going to happen.

  “Uhmm, that’s just really good stuff.” She waves her hand out at the wine. “Shit, I need to go. Ramp, this is a bad idea.”

  When she turns to slip by me, I slide my arm around her stomach from behind and pull her back into me. Letting my head fall forward, I breathe her in. God this woman is soft in all the right places and smells like my very own personal undoing.