37. Penn

Chapter 37

Penn

R eagan’s phone won’t shut up. It’s been ringing non-stop, breaking through the rare moment of peace we’re attempting to have at dinner. Seriously, this constant buzzing is grinding my nerves down to a fine powder.

“Jesus Christ, Reagan,” I snap, reaching across the table before she can protest. “Give me that damn thing.”

She glares at me, those eyes of hers practically shooting daggers, but she doesn’t move to stop me. I grab the phone and hit the answer button, bringing it to my ear with a sarcastic flourish.

“Hello, you’ve reached the delightful household of Mr. and Mrs. Blackwood,” I say, my voice dripping with mock politeness. “How can we ruin your evening tonight?”

“Penn, you bastard!” John’s voice roars through the speaker, so loud I have to pull the phone away from my ear. “Where the hell is my daughter? I want her back now!”

“Ah, hello, John St. Pierre,” I drawl, leaning back in my chair as I let the smug grin spread across my face. “ So nice of you to call. But you see, Reagan isn’t your daughter anymore. She’s my wife.” The word ‘wife’ drips from my lips like poisoned honey, sweet yet deadly.

“Don’t play games with me, Blackwood!” John spits back. “You know damn well what you’ve done. This isn’t over.”

“Clearly, it isn’t,” I retort, my tone darkening. “But you’re going to have to get used to it. Reagans with me now, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“Hand her the phone,” he demands, voice crackling with fury.

“Sorry, John,” I say, faking regret. “She’s a little tied up at the moment. Why don’t you calm down and maybe take a sip of that overpriced bourbon you love so much?”

“Don’t you dare—” he starts, but I cut him off.

“Listen, old man,” I say, lowering my voice to a dangerous whisper. “You’re barking up the wrong tree. Reagan’s a Blackwood now. You’d best remember that.”

“Blackw—” He tries again, but I hang up, tossing the phone back onto the table with a smirk.

“Well, that was fun,” I say. “Your dad sends his regards.”

The phone buzzes again, persistent as a swarm of hornets. I pick it up, expecting more of the same—threats and anger. But when I answer, my voice is colder, calculated. Funny Penn is no longer in control. “What now, John? Didn’t get enough the first time?”

“Give me my fucking daughter back.”

I scoff, leaning back in my chair as I twirl a strand of Reagan’s hair around my finger. “You must be losing your touch if that’s the best you’ve got. Reagan’s not some helpless girl. Your threats are about as effective as a water pistol at the OK Corral.”

His voice comes through like a storm. “You took a minor, Penn! That’s fucking kidnapping! I’m not talking about Reagan—I want Reese back.” His desperation is tangible, almost pitiful.

I let out a low chuckle. “Reese? She’s safe and sound with me. And if you think calling her a ‘minor’ is gonna make me sweat, you’re dead wrong.”

“Don’t play games with me, Penn,” John growls through the receiver. I can almost see his face turning red, veins popping out of his neck. “I’ll have the authorities on this quicker than you can blink.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I drawl, rolling my eyes. “Call whoever you want. It won’t change a damn thing. Reagan’s my wife now, and her sister is now also my fucking business. That means I’m the one calling the shots. So why don’t you take your empty threats and shove them up your ass.”

“She’s nothing but washed up and dirty since she got involved with your family,” he spits, venom lacing every word. “You’ve tainted her, Blackwood. She’ll never be anything but trash now.”

“Excuse you?” Reagan’s voice cuts through the air, her eyes blazing with fury.

I tighten my grip on the phone, my smirk widening as I glance at Reagan.

John’s voice continues to drone on, but his words fade into a dull roar as my gaze shifts toward Reese. She’s trying to shrink herself out of existence. She’s curled up in her chair, her slender frame almost trembling under the weight of hearing this old fuck’s voice. Her eyes, wide with fear and uncertainty, dart between me and Reagan.

Ramsey must sense it too because he drapes his arm around the back of Reese’s chair, his fingers playing with her hair in a soothing gesture the same way I just did with Reagan. His blue eyes flicker between me and her.

“Just you wait until I get my fucking hands on her. Goddamn Blackwood whore, spreading her legs for every one of you. I just know it. I’m going to scrap her.” The man is ranting, almost forgetting who the fuck he is talking to.

“You’re delusional if you think I won’t call the feds! I’ll have your entire family behind bars by sunrise,” John rants on, his voice cracking with rage and desperation.

I chuckle darkly into the phone. “And what exactly would you tell ‘em, John? Please enlighten me. I’ll wait.”

“And then once every single one of you is locked up, I’ll have you raped over and over as prison bitches until finally you’re killed.” How utterly uninspiring of him. He could at least have the fucking balls to do it himself.

I laugh quietly, but it goes on and on.

“I’d love that, John. Truly,” I quip, unable to resist the pun, “but fine, let’s talk business. You want your daughter back? Meet me at your little abandoned hangar in two hours. We can talk about how you’re going to leave my wife’s name out of your fucking mouth.”

I hang up before he can retort, tossing the phone back onto the table. The confident click of the disconnect is like punctuation to a perfectly crafted sentence.

“Two hours, huh?” Reagan asks, arching an eyebrow. “There’s no fucking way you’re giving him Reese.”

“Please don’t fucking insult me again. Your father is too worked up to think I wouldn’t even bring her,” I say, my voice dripping with suggestion. “It’s called a trap, wife. I can’t believe he has the audacity to threaten me with a minor.”

“You’re insufferable. He forgot her birthday,” she mutters, but she doesn’t move away when I lean closer, my fingers trailing over her arm, igniting sparks wherever I touch.

“You’re not his property anymore,” I reply, leaning against the table with my elbows on the wood.

“You’re damn right I’m not.” Her voice quivers with resolve, and for a moment, I see the raw strength that lies beneath her rage. “I’m going to stand up to him, Penn. Not just for me, but for my sister. He can’t hurt us anymore.”

Jeremiah’s soft cough interrupts the moment. His eyes are sharp, taking in every detail of our interaction. He’s always been the quiet observer, the one who sees everything while saying nothing.

“What’s your take, Jeremiah?” I ask, keeping my tone light but challenging.

“This situation is volatile,” he replies after a moment, his voice calm and measured. “We need to manage the risk carefully.”

“Risk management,” I mock, rolling my eyes. “Sounds like you’re writing a business plan.”

“Call it what you will,” Jeremiah says, unfazed. “But emotions are high, and high emotions lead to mistakes. We need to keep a clear head.”

“Emotions, emotions, emotions. Your emotions are what led us here, so I really don’t need a lecture on keeping a clear head from you. I’ll handle this my way and clean up the mess as per usual. I didn’t hear you complaining when I cleaned up your fuck up, now did I?”

“You’re right,” he concedes, “but I know that we don’t need another fuck up like mine. We’re running out of single people at this table. You go in there and kill him then what? How the fuck do you deal with Dad about that? ”

“Strategize all you want,” Reagan snaps, “but I’m not backing down. Not this time.”

“That’s the spirit,” I say, grinning. “Let’s give him a one-way ticket to hell. And again, I will deal with Robert. Just fucking have my back, or are you more concerned about Daddy Dearest?”

Jeremiah grimaces, but nods. He’s always been the one to balance out my recklessness with his caution, and while it can be annoying, I know it’s useful.

“I’m with you. We’re all with you, Penn. I wouldn’t choose him over you, ever.”

“Then I’m gonna get ready,” I announce, looking around the room at the faces of those who stand by us. “I’ve got a board meeting to attend and a hostile takeover to conduct.”

Because that’s what this is. It’s business, and in business it pays to be the most cutthroat at the table.

We pull up to the abandoned airport hangar, the engine quietly ending as I turn the truck off. I glance over at Ramsey, sitting in the backseat dressed like young Rambo complete with eye black. Okay, Mr. Call of Duty.

“Stay put for five minutes,” I say, my voice low but sharp. “Come in behind us. And hand me my duffle bag from behind your seat.”

Ramsey smirks as he grabs the bag. “Oh, it’s always a good time when the Blackwood murder spend-the-night bag comes out.” I laugh at that because it is my little bag of fucking party tricks it feels like.

“Yeah, yeah, just don’t fuck up the timing,” I reply, snatching the bag from him. The weight feels familiar, almost comforting. It’s packed with everything we need for tonight’s little show.

“Penn, this is insane,” Reagan mutters beside me, her voice laced with discomfort. She’s pulling at the baby pink sweater and gray leggings I’ve forced her into, a far cry from her usual attire. The white sneakers complete the look—a perfect facade of innocence.

“Quit squirming. You look like your sister and the perfect little bait,” I snap, reaching into the bag and pulling out a black hood. “Put this on.”

She hesitates for a second, her eyes flashing with defiance before she complies, slipping the hood over her head. Even now, she hates that I make sense. She’s so fueled by her emotions that she can’t see how calculated this is. I have more finesse than just storming the castle like it’s goddamn Normandy.

I get out of the front cab, the cold night air biting at my skin. Tucking my gun into the waistband of my jeans as the door shields me, I walk around to the passenger side. “Play dead wifey. It’ll be just like the night we got married.” She rolls her eyes before forcing her body to go limp as I open the door and throw her over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She plays unconscious well, thank fuck.

“Let’s make this quick,” she mutters as I feel her warm breath against my neck through the fabric of her hood.

“Ready to see John, hellfire?” I whisper, my voice dripping with sarcasm. No response, just the steady rise and fall of her breathing. Fine by me.

We reach the hangar door, and I pause, taking a deep breath .

It’s showtime.

I kick the hangar door open with a satisfying bang . The metallic clang echoes in the cavernous space, announcing our arrival. John St. Pierre whips his head around, his face twisting into a smirk as he sees me swagger in with Reagan slung over my shoulder. His two meathead bodyguards stand at attention, flexing their muscles and looking as dumb as they are big.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Penn Blackwood,” John drawls, his voice dripping with arrogance. “You really did show. I figured you’d go running to your daddy to try and fix this.”

“Yeah, yeah, save the dramatic monologue for someone who gives a shit,” I shoot back, letting my eyes roam dismissively over the setup. “Here’s your precious little daughter, as promised.” I shift Reagan slightly, making sure her limp form is still convincingly unconscious. “Now, are you gonna be a good boy and sit down to talk with me, John? Because you’ve been running that mouth of yours about my wife, and I think we need to clear the air on that.”

“Give me Reese,” John commands, not even bothering to hide his impatience. His cockiness oozes out of him, thinking he’s got the upper hand.

“Reese, Reese...” I murmur, pretending to ponder. “Oh, right, you mean this one?” I give Reagan a little jiggle. “You know, I was really hoping for more of a warm welcome, but I guess manners aren’t your strong suit.”

John’s face contorts, frustration seeping through his smug facade. Perfect. Every second counts. My eyes flit to the side, catching Ramsey slipping in through the shadows, just as we planned.

“Alright, alright,” I say, feigning compliance. “Let’s not keep Daddy waiting.” I lower Reagan gently to the ground, locking eyes with my cousin. The silent signal passes between us—it’s go time.

“Here you go, Johnny,” I say, my voice laced with mock sweetness. It’s the last thing his goons hear before Ramsey and I simultaneously pull our guns and fire.

Two shots ring out in perfect harmony, echoing like music in the hangar. The guards drop like stones, their heads blooming crimson as they fall. John stands there, shock painting his face as blood splatters across his pristine suit.

“Whoops,” I say, barely hiding my grin. “Looks like your boys couldn’t handle the heat.”

Reagan twitches and then sits up.

“Hi daddy, wrong daughter or maybe the right one,” Reagan says, pulling the bag off her head with a flourish.

John’s eyes widen, his confidence faltering for just a split second before he masks it with a sneer. The blood on his suit looks almost decorative, like some twisted avant-garde fashion statement.

“Reagan.” He breathes out, and there’s something raw in his tone. Such fucking anger toward my wife.

“Surprised?” I ask, my voice dripping with sarcasm as I twirl my gun. “You shouldn’t be. You’re not exactly father of the year material. Reese is about six inches shorter, so really it’s quite easy to tell them apart.”

“Miss me, daddy?” she taunts, her smile all edge and venom. She steps forward, her movements liquid and lethal, like a panther stalking its prey. “Or did you forget all about your little girl?”

“Enough games!” John roars, but there’s a tremor in his voice now. “What do you want?”

“Answers,” Reagan says simply, her eyes narrowing. “And maybe a little revenge. You know, family bonding time. ”

“Don’t think you’re walking out of here alive,” John spits, his bravado trying to claw its way back. “You have no idea what you’ve stepped into.”

“Funny,” I say, leaning casually against a rusted metal beam. “I was about to say the same thing to you.”

“Let’s get this over with,” Reagan says, her voice steely. “I’ve got better things to do than babysit an old man with delusions of grandeur.”

“You’re still the same insolent brat,” John growls, his eyes flicking between us like a cornered animal.

“Now, let’s clear the air, shall we?” I say, a slow, dangerous smile spreading across my face.