Vicious Hate (Westbrook Blues Book 2) by Thandiwe Mpofu

Author:Thandiwe Mpofu [Mpofu, Thandiwe]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-12-01T16:00:00+00:00

“Alexander sweetheart, let me talk to you.”

I ignore her grating, rough voice as I open the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water. My head is pounding with all the fucking scotch and then vodka that I have been drinking these past days, not bothering to go to school after following Myers to fucking nowhere. The guy just drove, then circled around to fucking come back to Westbrook Blues.

I don’t know what kind of game he’s playing at but he’s damn good at it.

And then when I finally do go to school, I find my girl face to face with the girl that stabbed her in the back.

Fuck.

“I know you think I’m the bad guy here but sweetie, I’m trying to protect you.” She speaks again, trying to gain my attention. But as always, I ignore her. But in true Denise King fashion, she just carries on.

“I know I haven’t been the best mother in the world, Alex but I’m trying to protect you from these vindictive, lying trailer trash. . .”

I still as soon as those words leave her mouth. I snort and then chuckle, closing the large, industrial like fridge that seems to be so fucking out of place for a mansion that never has guests, unless those said ‘guests’ are in on a particular plot to destroy everyone else, then why the fuck not.

Everything in this house and about this house, is a sign of power, domination and wealth. Much like the lady of the house herself, dressed like she’s about to have tea with the queen of England—if ever the queen has biscuits with conniving women like my mother, that is.

“Trailer trash huh?” I chuckle, twisting the water bottle in my hand. Fuck, I’m going to crash soon, but not before I do what I need to do.

I keep chuckling and I hear her gasp when the words register with her.

“Well, yes.” She says. I can just about see her raising her chin, and straightening her shoulders, owning her harsh words towards the girl I love.

“Protect me, huh?” I question, turning around as I lean on the fridge, watching her.

“Alex, you know what I mean.” She breathes, now looking wary.

“Oh no, sweetie.” I drag the word, imitating her voice, remembering how she used it when I first told her about Larry.

“Not now, sweetie.”

“Sweetie, that isn’t possible. Larry wouldn’t do something like that.”

“Sweetie. . .”

“I truly don’t know what you mean, Denise. You are an intelligent woman, and I obviously am not, so please, enlighten me.” I mock with a smirk and she frowns, watching me.

For all intents and purposes, I probably look like I’m thoroughly enjoying this conversation but inside, I’m far from wanting to be near this woman, let alone hear any of the shit she’s about to hurl out. I watch, looking amused as she straightens her shoulders and takes a step forward.

Gearing up for a fight are we now? Well, you’re in luck Mother dearest, I feel like I could demolish the whole world right about now.

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