Loving the High School Bad-Boy

Chapter 37

Super sorry for the short chapter, I've had writers block, so I hope that you don't mind. Just comment, vote and all that shit.

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I cringed as Ryan opened the door and his eyes raked over my body.

"Well, well," he tsked, "I never thought I'd say this but, you look sexy as hell," he sucked in a breath, "Do you want to put on some makeup, or do your hair?" He asked.

I nodded my head, he dumped out a bag full of makeup and hair products, and pulled out a small hand mirror from his pocket.

I brushed out my hair, and lined my eyes with charcoal liner. I swiped on some mascara, and I was done, but I pretended to be putting on some lipgloss before kicking him in the groin and smashing the mirror, grabbing two of the large and sharp pieces.

He let out a painful laugh, rolling on the floor holding his baby-makers, "Your a fucking bitch, you know that?" He told me, his voice squeaky and high.

I laughed and stepped over him, holding the mirror daggers above his throat, "You shouldn't leave the door open, dickweed," I snarled.

I kicked off the boots, and sprinted down the metal hall on my bare feet as fast as I could with the cast, it hurt like hell, but I was pretty sure I still could've beat the school track team. I heard shouts behind me and an irritated, British voice on the loud speakers.

"Please, your so annoying with your escape plans, they truly are not that spectacular. I have guards surrounding you at this very moment, so either surrender, or we may have to break something again,"

"Wait!" I shouted, holding the daggers above my head. "Wait!" I shouted a second time.

"Waiting." The irritated voice responded.

"Why the fuck are you British?" I asked, before breaking the daggers into four instead of two and flinging two at the large bodyguards blocking my direction and jumped over their bodies, cracking the cast and sending shooting pain up my leg.

I hissed at the pain and trudged along, I attempted running but it felt like my leg was being dumped in a volcano and brought back out only to be put back in.

I tried to be quiet but I wasn't sure how that would fit in, seeing as there was security everywhere.

"Oh just give up already. It's fun watching you run around this maze in pain, but I'm afraid your only making your way closer to the middle," he told me, breathing out his lasts words, with a small shake to them.

"Your lying," I replied, "Your words are not confident, and you can't find me. I'm nearing the exit arnt I?" I said.

There was no reply.

I smiled and dragged my foot begin me as I hobbled on one leg to same way I was going.

My smile faded as I began to wonder, what if he wasn't Lying?

What if this is a trick?

And I'm falling right for it.

"SHIT! You motherfucking asshat, you tricked me didn't you?" I shrieked.

"I didn't think it would take you so long, but eh, your a sixteen year old girl." He cackled over the speakers.

I narrowed my eyes, "A sixteen year old girl who's skipped two grades and is supposed to be graduating," i shot back.

"Oh please!" It mocked, "Please don't hurt me with your algebra equations! Darling, you may be cute, but I'm positive your mother trained you better than this," they tsked.

"My mother?" I breathed, "What does this have to do with my mother," I asked firmly, "You said this was about Jackson Denivior," I shouted.

The was a sharp intake of breath, "Well, um, it is about Jackson, only Jackson."

"Then why did you mention my mother," I questioned.

"Because, well, I was just making a crude remark about you, or are you too dense to tell?" It shot back.

"How did you know my mother trained me?" I said.

"Because she was a fine agent, one of the best. I don't understand how the Knights got her. She worked for us, I don't see how they got Intel she was coming," he murmured.

"Tell me your name," I bellowed.

"Why, little Amy, did you really not recognize your Mothers old partner? Good because it's not him," the voice laughed, "I'm your mothers supervisor, or I was, Ricky Hawthorn."

A small gasp escaped my mouth, I began backing up, until I hit a wall. I slumped down, my hand covering my mouth. My heart leaping in my chest. The tears began running down my face and I could only think of one thing as they came and grabbed me by the arms.

Ricky.

Only one thing crossed my mind as they dragged me through a maze of twists and turns that I didn't bother remembering.

Ricky.

Only one thing, one name, could stay in my mind as they threw me into an old, rusty metal box of a room.

Ricky, is here.

He's here.

In this building.

Watching me.

I tried my hardest to keep the tears from flowing, I tried my hardest not to look weak.

I tried not to weep in front of my captures.

I tried not to let my guard down, let them see the effect.

I tried my hardest not to crumple to my feet, and completely let it all go.

The fear.

The tears.

The pain.

But trying, is not doing.

Trying, is not doing.

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