ALL THE RAGE (writer: T.M. Frazier)(66)

However, this time around, her scowl had been replaced with a smile.

A smile I was never going to see again.

Rage

Blood.

So. Much. Blood.

Everywhere.

In the kitchen. Splattered across the couch. Dripping from counter’s edge, coating the cabinets below, and the wood floor in dark, thick, RED.

Worst of all were the drag marks.

From the living room where Nolan’s bloody hockey jacket was lying on the floor, to the front door, then all the way out to the driveway where it disappeared beneath the gravel and shell.

Nolan.

Murray scratched at the back door, which was partially opened, but not enough for him to pass through. I slid it open further and sad-looking Murray waddled in to greet me. I frantically picked him up, feeling around his pudgy little body for wounds, relieved when I didn’t find any. “Where’s Nolan?” I asked, hoping against nature that he’d suddenly learned to speak real human words in the time I’d been gone.

Sadly, all he did was drool and continue to whine.

“I’ll find him,” I reassured him, patting his gross little head and meaning every word of my promise.

I pulled out my phone and dialed the one and only person I knew who could possibly be responsible. I closed my eyes as the phone rang, hoping and praying to whatever God might exist that this was all some sort of big misunderstanding.

Smoke’s phone went right to voicemail, where his recording informed me that his inbox was full. I picked up Nolan’s bloody hockey jacket from the floor and stuffed it in my bag.

Over and over again, I called Smoke’s phone with the same outcome.

Out of desperation, I hopped on my scooter and headed out to Coral Pines. If Smoke was sending me straight to voicemail then the only thing left to do was head straight to Smoke.

Hopefully, I wasn’t already too late.





CHAPTER THIRTY




Rage


I pounded on the door of Smoke’s house, which was more like a one-room fishing shack than a house. One square room that was both the bedroom and the living room. A hotplate on the floor was the extent of his kitchen. I heard movement inside, so I pounded harder. “Smoke, open the f*cking door!” I shouted.

“Go away!” Smoke yelled out, sounding out of breath.

I didn’t have time for his shit. Neither did Nolan. “He was my job!” I snapped, hoping to appeal to his sense of business.

There was a loud commotion inside, followed by some mumbling. Whatever he was doing, it wasn’t opening the door. “Fuck this.” I reached into my bag and pulled out my Swiss army knife, flipping to the small pick. In less than ten seconds, I’d picked the lock and was standing inside Smoke’s house? watching him as he nailed some chick from behind. I growled in frustration, but it only made Smoke turn his head and smile, but not stop.

If I shoot him, that will make him stop and listen, I thought.

“Smoke, stop. We have to talk. NOW.”

“No, you’re the one who broke in here. You’re the one who has to wait until I’m f*cking done,” he grunted. The muscles in his thighs and ass clenched as he thrust into her hard and fast. Over and over again, he pounded into the girl beneath him who appeared microscopic under to Smoke’s massive frame of muscle. All I could see of her was dark hair and limbs. Although I could hear her.

She was screaming.

Loud.

It seemed like I stood there for an eternity, watching Smoke f*ck that chick like he was killing her with his cock. It was the last thing I needed. I needed answers, not the sound Smoke makes when he comes burned into my brain.

When he was done he stood up, uncaring that he was naked and that his dick was still hard and bobbing up and down as he made his way across the room. “Now, what are you going on about? What job?” Smoke asked, rubbing is eyes and yawning.

I sat down on the edge of his bed. The girl Smoke had been banging must not have realized I was there with all the orgasms going on, because now she appeared horrified as she held up the sheets around her chest. “I’m sure your rack is great, chica, but I couldn’t care less about your tits right now,” I assured her, turning back to Smoke.

“You know who. Nolan!” I yelled, standing up and walking over to Smoke. He opened the small refrigerator on the floor and popped open a beer. He lit a cigarette and leaned up against the wall, blowing out the smoke and scratching his beard. “So where is he? What did you do with him?”

“It’s f*cking early, and I’ve got no f*cking clue what the f*ck you’re talking about.”

“First of all, it’s like 7 p.m.!” I stomped on the floor with one foot like a toddler about to throw a tantrum. “And second of all, I’m talking about Nolan! You know, Nolan, the guy you hired me to…” I stopped myself before I said anything too incriminating. I jerked my chin toward the girl in the bed and Smoke’s gaze followed before waving me on to continue.

“You can say your piece in front of Morgan. She ain’t gonna tell shit to no one.”

I huffed out a frustrated breath and continued. “I just came from Nolan’s house. There was blood everywhere. He’s f*cking gone. I want to know what you did with him and I wanted to tell you that he’s my problem. My job. Not yours. So where the f*ck is he?” My chest was heaving as I struggled to get the words out while maintaining any sort of normal breathing. I struggled to get a hold of my anger as my vision blurred. I couldn’t lose my shit now. I needed to focus on finding Nolan.