by C. M. Owens
He whips his head toward me.
“Then why did you just tell me?”
I go a little stiff. I honestly have no idea why I just told him that.
“Just felt like explaining what was going on,” I say uneasily.
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice his lips twitching. He knows I just slipped up by forgetting he wasn’t…here permanently.
“Why worry? Pot is legal in this state.”
“Not in the quantities people buy it in, and it’s still illegal to grow it. Plus, you make more money when taxes and licenses aren’t involved. We don’t do things like normal people, remember?”
We race down the road, getting out of Wilder territory. I don’t slow down until I see the sickening sight of a Trooper passing us, his lights and siren coming on in unison as he whips around and comes after us.
“Shit,” I hiss.
“What? It’s just a speeding ticket. I’ll pay it,” he says from beside me.
“That would be great…if I had a license.”
He groans. “You don’t?”
“Well, I did. It was taken away two years ago…in another state. Sort of forgot I couldn’t be an idiot anywhere but Tomahawk. The troopers aren’t supposed to be here yet.”
“I’m sure they were on their way to the Wilders’ place with all that shit blowing up too. Is Tannerite illegal?”
Fuckity fuck fuck.
“I don’t think so, but it’s safe to assume all things are illegal when the troopers are here. Pretty sure you need a license for explosives, and the Wilders will have no such thing. And the last place that needs investigating is the Wilders’.”
He pulls out his phone as I pull over on the side of the road. The trooper’s car stops behind ours.
“Glad one of us has a phone,” he says with a smirk. Then the phone is at his ear. “Hey, Killian, it’s me. The troopers are here. You need to get over to the Wilders’ place and warn them, because there was some Tannerite issues.”
He pauses, smiling over at me.
“Yeah. I promise to tell you later,” he goes on. “Right now, I’m going to have to keep Kylie out of jail.”
He glances back over his shoulder, and then he tugs me so hard that I almost slap him. Until I realize he’s shifting over me, staying on his phone. I quickly, and awkwardly, scramble to the passenger seat, buckling up like I’ve been here all along.
I look back to see the trooper’s head is down, so I hope that means he didn’t notice the swap.
Liam relaxes behind the wheel, and he continues to talk.
“Only seen one so far. But hurry. I’m not sure how long I can stall, and he was on his way out there.”
He hangs up and flashes me a smile just as the trooper gets out and walks this way.
***
“I said I was going to let you go with a warning, and you’re telling me you want a ticket?” the trooper asks, understandably confused.
At least he has no clue that Liam wasn’t driving.
“I think I deserve one. The lone officer here is really strict on his residents. I never want to be disrespectful by ducking out on a deserved ticket,” he says so innocently, knowing writing a ticket will take a lot longer than a warning.
At least I assume it will. Since I’ve never had either one, I’m curious. I just got arrested and had my license suspended for driving a car into a swimming pool.
Long story.
And, yes, I was sober when it happened.
And, no, no one was hurt. I really thought I could make the jump. Dukes of Hazard style.
Their ramps were small and they jumped long distances with very little effort or speed.
Clearly that doesn’t work for people like me. I’m not sure where I went wrong, but at least now I know I can’t jump the lake. It was a failed trial run, but a wonderful learning experience.
“You’re the first person to ever argue their way into a ticket,” the trooper grumbles, writing something down.
I watch as Killian drives by in his Jeep, smirking at us as he passes. I blow out a relieved breath. The Wilders will close the gates to their land, and the trooper can’t trespass. I’m sure they’ll also be roadside, a feasible explanation for the Tannerite ready.
“You’re the first state trooper I’ve seen since I moved to town several weeks ago,” Liam tells him, dangling some bait to catch info.
“We don’t pass through here too often. Real quiet town that I’m surprised isn’t too broke to even exist. Usually once a year when some complaints roll in from tourists claiming a lot of illegal activity is going on is when we cruise through. We never find anything. You seen anything?” he asks, looking at Liam and narrowing his eyes.
“Saw a particularly shady raccoon digging in my trashcan the other morning,” Liam deadpans.
I bite back a laugh and turn my head away to hide my smile.
“The town has been a little eerily quiet other than that,” Liam adds.
The trooper grunts, still scribbling.
“It doesn’t make sense why we get these calls every year, yet never find anything. I came early, hoping to surprise the locals. More are coming, but I’ve already heard something akin to an explosion down the road that I’m going to investigate.”
“Could be an ongoing prank—the calls, I mean.” Liam is sounding helpful to the trooper, but I’m a little concerned about how easily he lies, as though he does it all the time. “And the explosions could have been fireworks.”
“Could be,” the guy agrees. “Every year, the damn wild life wreaks havoc on us. Worst woods in the country, if you ask me. I’m the only repeat trooper coming this year. The rest are new guys.”
Liam quirks a questioning eyebrow at me, but I just look around, avoiding eye contact, and hiding my secretive grin.
It takes a long few minutes, but the trooper finally hands Liam his ticket. Liam accepts it with a smile and some spoken gratitude.
“You drunk?” the trooper asks, eyeing him suspiciously.
“I can take a breathalyzer if you want,” Liam suggests helpfully.
This takes longer, giving Killian and the Wilders more time to act.
I hide my relief with a tight smile as the trooper shakes his head, reading the sober results of the test.
“Weird fucking town,” he mutters under his breath before finally sending us on our way.
I snatch Liam’s phone, and he grins as I start dialing Vick—our one local cop.
“So now a phone is handy?”
I ignore him, and speak when Vick answers.
“Troopers are here. Shut the town down.”
I hang up, and Liam looks at me like he’s confused as he pulls away, driving us forward at a decent, legal speed.
“Shut down the entire town?”
“Every part of the town has something at least semi-illegal or unlawful going on. The local grocer rents floor space out to locals. Locals set up stands inside and sell moonshine made by unlicensed men. Also, the moonshine is past the legal limit. And then others set up, bypassing health codes and federal food regulations—we know how to keep food safe without doing all that other shit. Penny even sells her jam there.”
He nods like he’s taking all that in.
“The bar doesn’t have a liquor license. He uses his brother’s liquor license, and his brother runs the liquor store downtown. They fudge the books and stuff. Then Caroline runs a gambling ring under her dance studio.”
“A gambling ring? The old lady with the beehive bun?” he asks incredulously.
I nod.
“Then of course there are the pot runners. A lot of runs are made to distribute all the pot the Wilders grow. Vick handles selling it to the locals. But, yeah. Nothing stronger than pot is allowed. You will go to jail for that. And then Molly sells baked pot goods at the bakery—”
“That suddenly makes so much sense,” he says, still driving.
The Wilders own a lot of land, so it takes a while to get back to town.
“What does?”
“Molly’s daughter was one of my admirers—” I growl a little, and he grins. “—and she brought me some brownies from her momma’s bakery. I ate the entire pan. Normally I don’t eat sweets.” He pats his abs through his shirt, winking over at me. “But I couldn’t stop once I started. And I laughed for no fucking reason until my ribs hurt. Felt high as a fucking kite for hours and hours. Then I raided my fridge for an hour. The next day I spent four hours doing sit-ups, worried I was going to be soft before I finally got to see you.”
I try not to laugh. I forgot how easy it was for him to do this to me.
The uncontrollable grins. The freaking stupid-girl giggles. The vagina butterflies.
How did I forget all this?
“Sugar is the main component of Killian’s and Hale’s diets, and they still maintain a six-pack with ease,” I decide to say with a mocking lilt.
He cuts his eyes toward me.
“I’m aware. Thanks for pointing that out.”
I laugh a little under my breath, trying and failing not to smile over at him. When he winks at me, I’m transported back to those three weirdly perfect weeks where he was mine.
“You’re really in Tomahawk for me?” I ask him, finally letting that sink in as stupid little butterflies restlessly rustle in my stomach.
“Why the hell else would I move here?” he volleys.
Slippery slope, here I come.
“My father won’t take it easy on you,” I say instead of rolling down said slope. “And he doesn’t even know you had a girlfriend while I was wearing out my jaw on you multiple times a day.”
He jerks the Jeep back on the road after he veers off course by accident, and he clears his throat.
“Damn deer,” he mutters.
There was no deer.
I don’t point that out to him as I grin.
“Stay with me tonight,” he says suddenly, keeping his eyes on the road.
I pretend to think about it. I’m not stupid enough to think I can keep living in denial. Liam is here. He bought a home in Tomahawk to be with me.
I’m fucked in every sense of the word, whether I want to admit it or not. But I don’t trust all these confusing emotions going to war inside me. My mother loved my father and me. Yet she walked away like it was the easiest decision of her life.
And she never looked back.
She has a husband and three step kids in Seattle now. Found that out through my cousins, who still keep in touch with their shitty parents on occasion. My mother went to be a mother to someone else because she liked the scenery better than our small town had to offer. Obviously I have trust issues with outsiders.
Not to mention…remember Felicia? I certainly do. I distinctly remember him telling her I was his savior, and not much else about me. Then again, he did tell her he forgot she existed, so there’s that. Still not making this an obvious decision for me.
“We need to swing by my house so I can grab some supplies,” I tell him, not responding to his invite just yet.
“Your house in town?” he asks, proving he’s done his homework and found out where I live, while his triumphant smile spreading.
He’s a good stalker, that one.
“No,” I say with a larger smile. “Not those kind of supplies.” I turn to face him fully. “We need to stop by my dad’s cabin.”
This time, when he swerves, I don’t restrain my laughter.
Chapter 15
Wild Ones Tip #119
Families are crazier when they’re all in one place.
Wild Families are just psychotic. Wear a helmet.
LIAM
I’m not too prideful to admit this is my worst nightmare realized.
But I heed Killian and Hale’s advice, and I don’t cower. As far as Kylie believes, I’m completely impervious. The very definition of confident.
In other words, I have balls of steel, because I’m acting like I’m not one bit afraid of having five men shoot holes in me until I sink to the bottom of the lake with ease.
As soon as we walk into her father’s house, five men look up from their recliners—yes, all five have recliners in this living room that has numerous animal heads mounted on the walls like a bad horror movie intro.
Only her father lives here, but they pretty much all stay here a lot, according to the info I’ve gathered from the Vincent brothers during steak nights.
Shotguns and rifles are also hanging on the walls, as though they want them there for quick access, or their interior decorator was a serial killer.
The one with a semi-grizzly beard—her father—narrows his eyes at the boxers and T-shirt Kylie is wearing.
This is where I start hoping for a quick and merciful death.
Why did I not think about her clothes?
Kylie grins like a devil over her shoulder at me, before returning her attention to her father.
“You guys remember Liam, right? You left me floating in the lake near his cabin last night.”
That humor in her eyes dies as she glares at all of them.
Her father cracks a grin, but the four monstrous cousins start looking around at anything but her.
“You know better than to get drunk first,” her dad says, still grinning.
“I’ll remember that. You’ll remember that too.”
His smile falls.
“You threatening me?”
“You scared?” she muses.
I’m almost positive he pales a little, which I, of course, find fascinating.
“Family rules,” he says carefully. “First one drunk pays the price.”
She crosses her arms over her chest, her eyebrow quirking in challenge.
“Family rules, no one gets to hit a girl, even when she doles out revenge.”
He rolls his eyes.
Then she turns and gestures toward me. “I’m going with Liam. The troopers are here. I’m just grabbing some supplies. He wants me to sleep in his bed tonight, so I thought I’d tell you not to wait up on me.”
I’m going to kill her.
Just as soon as I get out of here alive.
She flashes me that conspiratorial wink, before looking back at her father, who is stroking his beard thoughtfully as he studies me.
“This is where you threaten him to get out of town before you rip off all his limbs and feed them to the bears,” Kylie states flatly, watching him as he studies me.
“I don’t know,” her father says, grinning a little. “Liam is on the official challenge committee. We voted him in this morning.”
That challenge committee is saving me? Thank fuck for Bill helping me sign on.
Kylie’s arms fall to her sides as confusion mars her face.
“I said I’m spending the night with him. In his bed. Where he’ll probably put his hands on me. Lips too. He also has some other body parts you should worry about.”
I cast a glare at her, but she’s too busy staring disbelievingly at her father.
He grins more. “Bill and I have been outnumbered by Chester Perkins and his crew for a long time. With Liam here, we’ll have better odds. The challenges have been weak lately, because those pussies are too afraid to handle the big ones.”
He smirks at me. “You a pussy, Liam?” he asks me.
I shake my head. “No, sir.”
He nods thoughtfully.
“Didn’t think so. Have you told Kylie we’ve met?”
I shake my head again.
“You’ve met?” Kylie asks, her face scrunched adorably in confusion.
Her father smiles, while I keep my mouth shut. Smart men live in silence. Talkers die mysteriously and their bodies never turn up. Now I’m wondering if they end up with the beards. I mean the…bears.
“I was on his land. Didn’t realize anyone had bought the Morris cabin until he showed up at that hunter’s shack in the woods to check out his new property. I was just keeping it up. Hated to see a building that nice run down with no care.”
It’s
a total lie he’s telling, but obviously I don’t point that out. He was sure as hell not just keeping the hunter shack up. In fact, I thought he was going to bring it down.
I just didn’t know the identity of the woman he was with, or why he wanted it kept a secret.
Until the wedding.
Now I get it.
And my lips are forever sealed.
Kylie eyes her cousins. “Well? No threats from any of you lot either?” she demands.
They all shrug, unconcerned.
“I think you’d be less likely to try to beat on us if you were getting laid regularly,” one of them says.
My confidence grows a little more when her father laughs at that instead of shooting me with one of those rifles near his head.
In fact, I’m feeling pretty damn good about this whole situation now. I’m not sure why Killian and Hale made it sound like this was going to be difficult. The Malones are far more agreeable than the Vincents were with Benson.
Kylie throws her hands up.
“Not even one threat? The Vincents did worse to Benson when he went for Lilah, and they like him.”
Ha. Apparently she’s thinking the same thing.
She flicks her gaze between all of them as they blink at her innocently.
“He did give up his home and city life to come out here and be with you. Heard all about that,” her father says with a shrug. “Sounds like a good man to me.”
I’m glad her father approves of my stalker tendencies.
Now I can appreciate their level of crazy a little more.
Fully relaxed with an extra dose of confidence, I take a seat on the last vacant recliner near the door. Kylie mutters something about the men in her house being anticlimactic before disappearing into a back bedroom.
As soon as the door closes, all five men look at me, humor vanishing, and they lean forward, eyes narrowing.
All the light air is sucked out and replaced with thick, suffocating tension.
Okay, feeling less confident now.
“My girl went to LA last year, and came back distant, quiet, and then started hiding herself away,” George growls, and I swallow hard.
He gestures to the wall on the far side that is loaded down with canvases, then gestures to the hallway that has paintings lining every single inch of it.