Lessons In Revenge (Daredevil Book 2)

A-game is all I've got

It had been three fucking days.

Three days.

I was going to kill him.

Oh god, what if he was dead? What if he'd been mauled by a bear? His eyes scratched out, penis clawed off, and bones broken to tiny little bits?

I would kill to see that. He deserved it, the bloody bitch-tit. God, he was an asshole. I mean, but it wasn't like I didn't already know that, I'd known that since the first time I'd laid eyes on him, I should have known he would be a fucking wuss about our night together.

I was going to skin him alive, and then I would cut his balls off and shove them up his fucking asshole.

Pulling my car door open, I softly closed it and quietly snuck up to Jeff as he made his way to his parked car.

He'd been avoiding me since the snot nose had gone missing; darting into classrooms, running in the opposite direction and even jumping back into his car and driving off without his groceries, when he spotted me at the grocery store.

He was hiding something, and I was pretty sure that something was the missing dickhead, and if he wasn't coming back home and facing me like a man, then I was going to him.

"Jeff!" The screech the numbnuts let out, would have made anyone laugh until their stomach hurt, and the way he froze like somehow that would make him invisible to me was just about the stupidest thing I'd ever seen him do.

"No Jeff here," he squeaked, his high-pitched voice reminding me off that of a fifteen year old cheering on a Starbucks barista as he made her favorite drink.

"Okay, can you tell Jeff that he's a coward with no balls?" I replied, crossing my arms and lifting an eyebrow at his back.

He twirled around to give me a glare. "I'm not a coward, and I do too have balls...some pretty big ones if I must say so myself."

"Big balls in my experience usually mean tiny penis," I replied, shooting his crotch an apprehensive look and his hands flew down to cover it, protectively.

"Does not," he fought back, pouting like a child.

"Alright, big balls, where is he?" I asked, getting tired of the bullshit, and cutting to the chase, my patience wearing out. I'd been trying to corner him for three days and I wasn't leaving without answers.

"W-where is w-who?" He stuttered, clearing his throat and scratching his neck, nervously.

"Listen, dimwit, I am tired. I've barely slept for three days, and I haven't seen Austin since I left his place to go drop Casey and Ryder off at the airport, so where the hell is the shithead?" I gritted out, grabbing a fistfull of his shirt and pulling him towards me with a glare.

His eyes wide, he tried to pull away but I held on, putting all my energy into it.

"Spit it out."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he replied, avoiding my eyes. "But I should probably go, because I have ballet classes in a few hours. Not my classes. They're my sister's classes. I don't even know why I just told you that, that's weird, right?"

"Where the hell is he?" I replied, slowly, enunciating every word with a twist of my wrist on his shirt, pulling it tighter around his torso in a knot.

"I'm not scared of you, you know," he answered in a pitchy voice, his eyes darting around the empty parking lot, never meeting mine.

"Really? Because if my memory serves me well, and oh it does, you falling flat on your ass trying to run away from me through the fucking football field just yesterday, seems like you are," I reminded him, smirking, my mind running back to the way he'd skidded a few feet before coming to a stop, his ass baring a green skidmark when he stumbled up, and kept running.