Petty Rage: Westbrook Blues Book 4

by Mpofu, Thandiwe

  But it’s so him.

  Choosing to guess his password, I try the first digits I think of… the same ones tattooed on his inner arm… and the door unlocks.

  Of course!

  Quickly slipping in, I make my way toward Noah’s large bedroom, by-passing his huge game room, the screening room and everything else I have only seen a glimpse of these past few nights.

  His bedroom door is open, so I make my way in… seeing the rumpled sheets from earlier this morning. I can’t help the smile on my face or the reminder I’m feeling from the soreness between my legs.

  “To remind you who was fucking in you all night long,” he whispered in my ear before he left for God only knows what.

  I start with the obvious places, his chest of drawers, but I don’t see any black envelope. I check under the pillows—because boys are weird like that—but there’s nothing. Then I check some drawers in his walk-in closet, but there’s no sign of a suspicious black envelope. Maybe Christina has wrong information? I mean, Noah doesn’t strike me as the sentimental type that keeps suspicious letters.

  I’m about to leave when I bump into one of the hoodies hanging over the open closet door and something falls out.

  Dropping down to pick it up, my heart stops when I see what it is.

  It’s a blood curdling picture of me, my two sisters, Ivy, Astraea and George’s baby, baby Claire, all lying on the floor… bleeding to death.

  The faces are ours, but the bodies are obviously other people.

  My whole body starts to quiver from a violent shiver.

  I pick up the letter, then flip it over.

  I see the note, but it doesn’t register until I read it for the fifth time.

  Oh God.

  This is why the boys beefed up security.

  This must be why Noah’s been acting strange. But who would send something like this?

  Driven by pure instinct, I quickly get up and race out of the room, out of Noah’s wing and straight back to Christina’s office… where I see one of the maids with a tray.

  “Mail for you, Miss.”

  “For me?”

  “Yes.”

  Why would I receive mail here?

  Actually, why would I receive mail at all? I tentatively walk over to her like she’s holding a bomb then accept the document sized envelope.

  When I see the name across the front, I drop the threatening letter I got from Noah’s room and rip open the seal, then shake out the papers inside.

  “TO: Mr. N.E.J. Montreal,

  We conducted another thorough medical exam and did extensive testing as per your request on behalf of the patient, one Casey Maya Allory, Age 8.

  Our team of doctors have been working non-stop to ensure we give you the correct results that would possibly negate the first diagnosis we gave on Saturday. However, we deeply regret to have to inform you, that diagnosis was correct.

  Miss Casey Maya Allory does indeed have Stage 4 brain cancer.

  It is too extensive to operate at this point…”

  * * *

  Did you know that everything terrible, everything sinister and gloomy happens in twos?

  For example, if there’s smoke, then there’s a raging fire close by, like really fucking close.

  If there’s a blusterous thunder darkening the heavens to a pitch black, there’s going to be an equally terrifying clap of lightning to emphasize the threat of destruction just a few seconds apart.

  And if there’s one horrific event happening that freezes the blood in your veins, stops your heart from beating and renders you mute, speechless and full of indescribable fear; then you can bet there’s someone else, in some part of this world who’s going through the same reaction as you at that exact moment.

  Double entendre.

  Maybe it was my way of trying to believe that this kind of agony wasn’t just happening to me alone, but when I met Noah, the most fucking gorgeous, sexy, risqué, bad boy that flipped my life upside down from the very first glance, I recognized the shadows in his beautiful eyes even as he tried to hide his pain through lewd jokes and a sense of humor that was part of his beautifully broken personality.

  What I never counted on was all the hurt and pain that came along with loving and being hated by him in return.

  How else could I describe this?

  On one hand, I can see he went above and beyond to get Casey tested—all the times he told me he was taking the girls out for ice cream this past week now make sense—but on the other hand, how could he keep this from me?

  All those nights Casey would cry out, tossing and turning in discomfort, unable to catch her breath.

  The way she’s been losing her appetite more frequently so much so that she’s severely underweight.

  I knew there was something wrong—healthy kids don’t throw up every single day—I knew that, but I didn’t search for answers!

  I didn’t get her the care she needed and now…

  Me! I did this!

  My throat start burning as a deep, unfiltered cry escapes my lips as my knees buckle.

  “And so the bell of tragedy strikes.”

  I turn around so fast, I almost give myself a heart attack only to come to a stop when I see a battered and bruised David, watching me with a sly look on his face.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” I demand, my voice hoarse and alien to my own ears.

  Stage 4 brain cancer.

  Too extensive to operate.

  Eight years old.

  Deeply regret…

  “Me? This is my house,” he says, then looks at the papers I’m clutching with a death grip. “And I guess you just received the news my son has been keeping from you, huh?”

  I hate that those exact same thoughts are whirling in my mind. “He had his reasons.”

  “Oh I bet he did, just like he had his reasons for keeping the threat notes that were coming your way, huh?”

  I don’t miss the way he says ‘notes’ but even in my despair and utter loss, I know better than to say anything to the taunt. I won’t give him the satisfaction.

  “Noah isn’t here, and neither is Christina.”

  “No, you mistake my intentions,” the bastard says with a cunning smirk on his face. “See, after that meeting, where I have to admit, you held your own and challenged me in front of the board, I couldn’t help but feel this tingling sensation at the back of my head.”

  “Your spidey-senses don’t mean shit to me, please leave,” I grit out, holding myself together so tight, a cool breeze might send me spiraling down into a sinkhole.

  “Sassy, I like that,” David says as he walks over toward me. “You know when you put that knife to my throat I knew then and there that you and I met before.”

  No, no, no…

  He remembers me!

  “And judging by the way your face is looking now, like you’ve seen a ghost, I guess I’m the boogeyman.”

  “Stay away from me,” I whisper brokenly.

  “Where are you going? Don’t you want us to resume where we left off?” he mocks, watching me with a gaze that makes my skin crawl. “I even brought a special gift from your Daddy.”

  Oh God, not today…

  “You work for him?” I bite out, disgust flowing through me.

  “I’d say we’re more of acquaintances with mutual interests but damn, the way the stars have aligned for me from the moment you walked into that conference room… I can’t express how incredibly honored I am to know that man.”

  “What exactly do you think you’re going to gain here?”

  “Why you, of course,” he says dramatically.

  “What?”

  “All throughout the week I was wondering, why in the hell would Christina leave you her proxy and go on vacation like there isn’t a war brewing?” he asks, tapping his chin. “Why would a cunning woman like that, leave you, a child yourself, to run all this? And then it hit me like a kick to the groin.”

  My heart is hammering against my che
st, my lungs feel like they’re shrinking, unable to function.

  “You, my dear, are her ace in the hole.”

  “What?” I croak.

  “Oh dear, Christina’s been playing a long game, huh, but alas it has to come to an end. Let me enlighten you on a few things.”

  I quickly take several steps back, my heart thundering in my chest.

  “I don’t want to know.”

  “Oh but, my dear, how will you fight to save your sisters if you don’t want to know?” he asks with faux concern.

  “What. Did. You. Do. To. My. Sisters?” I grit out, fury igniting in the depths of my darkness, accelerated by the sorrow and pain that’s coursing through my veins.

  “Do you mean your younger sisters? I’ve done nothing to them!” David asks with faux concern, then his bruised face transforms into an ugly smirk. “But your other sister on the other hand…”

  My other sister?

  I frown but as the smirk on David’s face grows more sinister, the evil making bile rise up my throat, it doesn’t take me long to figure it out.

  “No,” I whisper. “You’re lying.”

  “Why would I? Did you ever ask your dear Fairy—” he spits out the word, “—what happened to your half-sister?”

  I shake my head, feeling corned like all those years ago. My ears start ringing, the crack of the whip slices through me.

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because she all but volunteered for this,” he says. “And as of right now, she has your sisters.”

  Terror blooms through my chest, freezing the flow of blood in my veins.

  “Why would she…?” I croak, my mind racing. “Why?”

  David cracks a smile, enjoying the way I’m falling apart. “Why don’t you call your beloved Marie and ask if she’s still babysitting?”

  I see the phone laying right where I left it. Without taking my eyes off David, I grab my phone and dial Marie’s number.

  “Hello dear, did you leave something?” Marie asks softly.

  “Marie,” I croak, my throat burning as if acid is being forced down. “Marie…”

  “Are you all right, dear?”

  “I… are my sisters with you?”

  “What? You just picked them up, dear. I thought you were in a rush…”

  The phone slips out of my hand as devastation rocks through me.

  “What… what did you do?” I growl heading in hid direction as a murderous rage surges up in me.

  “Ah, just so we’re clear, if anything happens to me, the same tragic fate will befall one of your dear sisters,” the snake says. “An eye for an eye kind of thing.”

  I feel sick to my stomach.

  “And also, I personally didn’t do anything to your little adorable sisters,” David says sarcastically, as if he’s innocent. “I just collaborated with someone who’s going to take you all down. Of course, I had to get help from a friend. You know, kids nowadays are so ungrateful. Can you imagine my shock when I heard that Philip King was put in jail by his own son?”

  I stare at him, my knees growing weak by the second.

  “What do you want?” I grit out.

  “Me? Oh, I don’t want much, but I do have to say, whatever I want pales in comparison to what Christina is playing at here,” he tsks, looking around the office. “That woman is as deadly as she is stunning. She’s been playing chess while the rest of the world is barely understanding the rules of checkers.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Then why do I see doubt in your eyes? You’re a trained assassin, you’ll always be one of those Phoenix Corp agents… did you think those instincts would just disappear just because you’ve decided to live a more… domestic life?”

  Bile rises up my throat as I stare at the man who whipped me raw ten years ago in a dark dungeon as random strangers and my father looked on.

  “I’m not an assassin,” I grit out.

  “Oh, I thought that would be what you and my son have in common.”

  “What?”

  “Oh, he didn’t tell you?” David mock-gasps, his eyes wide like freaking saucers. “He didn’t tell you he’s a trained killer himself? I bet none of the boys would share that with anyone seeing as they’d be violating the Blues laws, but well, who cares now seeing as there’s all sorts of filth here.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Yes, you do,” he counters. “I know that my son has shared things with you.”

  Yes, but they are things I’ll never dare share with anyone. Ever. Not even under torturous duress.

  “What the hell do you want?”

  “Have you ever heard that joke? The one that says you walk into a bar and there’s a liar, a fairy, a whore and an idiot?” David mocks. “I’d say in this scenario, my wretched soon-to-be ex-wife is a liar, you call my son a fairy, but he is a whore and guess who the idiot in all of this is?” He dramatically waits for a response, as if I’d ever call myself that. “You!”

  “You know, you’ve been running your damn mouth for a good ten minutes now, but you still have yet to get to a point that’s actually worth all that noise,” I snap. “If anything happens to my sisters…”

  “If I were you, I’d hold off on going on a killing spree seeing as right this second, I have men watching. If I’m removed from this mansion in a body bag, your dear half-sister Brittney will kill one of your sisters, then the other will be sold and you’ll never ever see her again.”

  “No…” I croak.

  He smirks.

  “Oh yes, now to answer your silly question, have you not been paying attention to anything I just said?” he demands, his face so much like Noah’s, dark with fury. “Christina is using you!”

  “And why would she do that?”

  “Because she knows who you are and whose fucking daughter you are.”

  I can’t help but let loose a crazed and inhumane chuckle at that.

  “Newsflash, asshole, everyone and their mother knows whose fucking daughter I am.”

  “Did you think I meant Larry?” David asks, grabbing his chest. “I beg your pardon, love, but I meant your whore of a mother, Luci.”

  The blood in my veins chills. Everything in me screeches to a halt as I look up at this asshole.

  From the corner of my eye, I think I see movement but when I look fully, there’s no one.

  “What about Luci?”

  “Do you know where she comes from?”

  “No, and I don’t see how that’s any of your fucking business.”

  “It shouldn’t be, but you see, Lucile Matilda Allory McLaren comes from a long line of blue bloods… and you know what’s so interesting about the McLarens?” Like the idiot he just called me, I blink at him, my eyes wide. “They are notorious for selling the firstborn of every generation, isn’t that crazy!”

  My heart starts racing wildly. I can feel the mist of sweat covering my brow as I stare at him.

  “What does this have to do with me?” I whisper but David just shakes his head as I see Noah walk in behind him, followed by Emmett, George and King—all with murderous looks on their faces.

  I don’t know how I completely miss the gun in Noah’s hand or the murderous look in his eyes as he stalks into the room silently, eyes on his father.

  “You are the firstborn of your generation, which means you were already sold.”

  “No…”

  “And guess to whom?”

  I shake my head, stepping away, my head beginning to pound.

  “You, my dearest, you were sold to me! Say hello to your husband!”

  And then the gun goes off.

  THE END

  To be continued…

  Here we are again! Breathe, love! You’re fine.

  Noah and Kim’s story will continue and conclude in Book 2.

  Release dates, title and all the details to be announced soon.

  This is more than just a war over turf…

  Stay Connected

 
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  Afterword

  Man, I can’t really describe to you what this story means to me. Kimberly and Noah bring something purely raw, explosive and dynamic to the table and I can’t wait to tell the rest of their story.

  But I have to thank a few people first!

  First, to my parents who, through the many crappy things that were happening in my life, kept encouraging me to keep going. I can truly say, this wouldn’t be done without you. I love you both, though you will never read this because that would mean you’d have read every word I wrote before this…. No, let’s just not.

  To Sarah Plocher who worked night and day on this baby—literally! Thank you for the genuine love and care you put in each book you work on. You’re my Godmother!

  To my ride or dies, Sammy and Amanda. Thanks ladies for holding it down, always.

  And lastly, to everyone that waited for Noah & Kim since 2019, ain’t life a trifling bitch? But we made it though! Well, we made it to half way point! Thank you for waiting, for being patient and for showing your support throughout the writing of this baby.

  My special thanks goes to everyone who helped promote and share all things Petty Rage. From the bloggers to the bookstagrammers and booktokers, thank you.

  Finally, to you my lovely, slightly stressed reader who picked this book up, thank you. hope you read it and allowed the characters to speak to you in a way only they can.

  Also, if you enjoyed this story, I’d really appreciate it if you’d leave me an honest, heartfelt review for Petty Rage, if you get a moment. It would mean so much to me.