All Chapters of Yours Wickedly, Sierra : Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

SIERRA [The target has a basic instinct to protect his territory from any threat, no matter the gender.] "Well, are you going to keep me in suspense?" My friend, Leah-yes, thanks to her sci-fi geek dad, she was actually named after the actual Leia Organa from the Star Wars franchise. Until her mom made her dad change it, something about not wanting her to become a bullying magnet. She was visiting from Vegas and thought clubbing would be a girl's way to hang out; I ruled out Club Seven. And then Dante decided to show up. We were sitting at a booth inside a small café, eating fries and burgers. "Yes," I replied. Leah's half-eaten burger froze halfwayinto her mouth; she reached for her cellphone on the table. "Alright, I'm calling the cops." Slapping her hand away from her phone, I said. "Fine, I'll tell you." "Tell me what?

SIERRA [Observation: Target has a lean appetite and notices the smallest details about a person and makes them feel noticed, albeit exposed.] "I cannot believe you made me come here!" Howard scowled at me as we climbed out of his car. "I'm pretty sure that I shouldn't be three feet next to this guy." "Quit your whining," I said. "It's only dinner." The host in the restaurant led us to a secluded table, where Dante was already seated. He held my gaze as I approached, his hair neatly smoothed back with gel, and his body filled a dark suit. Did I mention my heart was beating hard against my chest? "Well, he's punctual." I whispered as we got to the table. Howard leaned down, whispering back. "For a criminal." Dante tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. Howard grunted when I dug my elbow into his ribcage. I kept my voice slick and curled my lips. "Hi." "Hello." Dante said to me, still remaining seated. Five awkward seconds passed before I realized Dante wasn't going to get

SIERRA "What are you hiding from me?" Dante and I stood on a bridge watching the ships sail past. I looked at him. "Nothing," I shrugged. "What do you mean?" Dante's face twisted into something cold. "I'm talking about this!" He reached into my coat and yanked out an FBI badge. My heart exploded. "Dante, I'm sorry, please!" I gasped, but then he reached for his gun and shot me. Blood rushed out as I panted, coughing violently, too weak as he threw me over the bridge. I plunged into the cold water, drowning. Then I jolted upright. My lungs burned as I realized I was in bed, my skin was covered in sweat, and I checked my body-no bullet hole or blood. "Dang it!" I threw my head back on the pillow. "It was just a dream." I muttered to myself. But I couldn't exactly stop my nerves from shooting all over the place. Someone rang my doorbell

SCARLETT"Oh, we know he's lying." We usually unwound in the break room before getting back on stage; the air was filled with hairspray and sweet perfumes. I frowned at Brittany. "Then why did you throw yourselves at Howard like you were his fangirls?"Howard surprised me twice in a few days, and no one ever did. I kept telling myself he was just being a bum.But still...he was right about me setting the bar for men low. I hate him."He's kind of cute and a great storyteller," Brittany said, taking a sip of her root beer. "I especially like the part where he puts the guy in a choke-hold with his thighs while tied up.""I just wanted an excuse not to practice," Betty confessed.I shot Betty a dry look. "Well, that's a relief. I was starting to think you two were on crack or something.""Uh huh." Brittany sang. I narrowed my eyes on her. "What?""He likes you," Brittany drawled. "From the way he watches you, sugar, he could worship the ground you walk on. And rightly so.""Is anyone

SIERRA "Ever heard of this thing called a smartphone? Why even own one if you can't use it to call me?" I told Howard as he barged into the apartment, wearing a Patriots jersey and carrying a bag of popcorn. "I was on my way home and thought it would be smart to come here before the game starts." Howard retorted. "Do you always carry a sports jersey in your briefcase?" I asked. "You don't?" Howard retorted, then paused at the sight of Seth in the living room. "Who's this?" "Howard, my friend, Nolan Mercer," I introduced. "Nolan, my brother Howard." "Pleasure to meet you," Seth, now using his alias accent, extended his hand. "Uh-huh," Howard took his hand. "How old are you, Nolan?" "Howard!" I spat. "Thirty," Seth answered, staring at my brother dead on. "You have a firm grip, Howard." Howard stared at Seth and winced, snatching h