Page 48 of Unhinged Kallie

That pissed off look was my sweet revenge, and I ate that look up like a fucking dessert. She was the only one I wanted, and seeing her jealous was the biggest turn-on. I leaned in close to her as I turned to head to the house.

“If you have any other ideas that will lead to mind-blowing sex, let me know. I’ll be sure to use them on my next date. Good night, Trouble.”

She made a noise in her throat, and there was a very good chance this twisted game would lead to her killing me, but I didn’t care. There was something about her all fired up like this that was so fucking hot.

“By the way, that new shampoo, the one with the cucumber, smells really nice,” I said, then walked away and didn’t look back.

Game on Trouble, game on.

Chapter Eighteen

KALLIE

MARCH

I hated taking the bus home. I’d gotten way too used to Carter driving us, but he had a follow-up doctor’s appointment today, so I was in a more foul mood than when I left school.

Stomping up the porch steps, I threw open the door with a bang. “Dad!”

There was no answer, but I knew he was home. All his vehicles were parked in the driveway.

“Dad! Where are you?”

I marched down the stairs to his room in the basement. When I placed my palm on the scanner, the heavy door clicked and let me inside. My dad was coming in from the secret passage.

“Why does it smell like a campfire in here,” I asked, sniffing the air. Focus, you’re pissed, remember. “Dad, what the hell?”

He had the best creepy stare. I needed to work on mine. He gave it to me now, a single brow rising as he assessed me.

“You seem irritated, Angel.”

Oh my god, I was going to scream.

“Irritated? Irritated? Do you think I’m simply irritated? I’m…fucking pissed off,” I blurted and then prayed I was too old to be spanked because to swear at my dad was to take your life in your hands. I could get away with more than most, but the look on his face said he was thinking of cutting my tongue out.

“Do we need to discuss respect, Angel?” I swallowed hard and shook my head. “Good, then what seems to be the issue?”

He walked over to his worktable, which still had blood on it from his latest victim. I had a very good idea who’d been on that table not long ago.

“Let’s talk about respect, Dad.”

His eyes found mine as he cleaned off his special tool, the small blade glinting as I walked closer. Dad turned his back on me, and I pursed my lips together.

“I’m listening,” he finally said.

“You’re demanding respect from me, but you don’t show me any.”

He rolled up his tool case and turned to face me. “What exactly is it you think I’ve done?”

“You want me to grow up and prove myself to you, but then you turn around and don’t let me take care of my problems,” I said, leaning on the worktable.

“Is that so?”

I hated when he did this. It was a trap. He asked just enough and said just enough for everything to get turned inside out and still end up my fault.

“Yes, it is.”

“Well, you’re going to have to be clearer on what you’re talking about.”