by C. M. Owens
“Angela? Which Angela? The one married to Hank or the one who sniffs her armpits in the park on Tuesdays?” I ask, but get ignored as Nila groans and looks at me.
“What happened with you and Liam?” Nila asks very seriously. “Does he deserve to die? Because that’s going to happen, you know.”
“What?” Lilah and I both ask at the same time.
Krysta rolls her eyes. “She doesn’t look upset,” Nila says flatly.
“Then we should probably stop the massacre,” Krysta says back.
“If you two don’t stop having a conversation with each other and ignoring us, I’m going to kick you in the asses. Literally. And it’ll hurt! I just got new boots.” Lilah points at her signature combat boots with pink shoelaces.
They might be new but they look exactly the same as every pair she’s ever owned. She’s not big on variety.
Nila gives me an exasperated look. She does realize she’s considered crazier than me, right? All the Wilders are. That makes her the exasperating one.
“We’ll explain after we get there. Maybe Liam won’t be dead by then,” Krysta says as she grabs my forearm and starts dragging me away.
“Who the hell wants Liam dead?” I snap.
“Apparently, you do,” Nila says from behind me.
I’m going to strangle them.
I turn just as Nila runs out my back door, and my head swivels as Krysta opens the front door. “Wait about five minutes or more, then follow us. We can’t all be seen together. We’ll meet you at Liam’s,” she says as she starts to step out.
“If Liam’s life is at stake, then why the hell are you two going first?” I hiss.
She blinks at me. “Because Nila and I like popcorn better.”
Lilah catches me when I lunge for Krysta, and the door slams as Krysta runs off, leaving me struggling in Lilah’s arms.
My boot is going up an ass today.
Chapter 26
Wild Ones Tip #20
Karma takes too long, and we’re impatient.
We’d rather beat the shit out of you right now. WEAR A HELMET!
LIAM
“You’re a man genius when you’re sulking and pissed off,” Hale tells me as I finish piecing together the last of the water cannon.
“I can’t believe you bought them one of these,” Benson says as shakes his head and drops back, wiping some grease—don’t call it mechanical lubricant, or the Vincents won’t stop laughing—away from his face.
“It was a pointless purchase since the Malones never tried to kill me,” I say tightly, ready to get the hell out of here so I can face Kylie and hope she isn’t freaked out.
Maybe she’s had some time to let it soak in and doesn’t want to run.
Killian’s phone rings, and he opens it—who has a flip phone these days?—to answer.
“Yeah?” Killian says, looking over as he listens to someone. “That would actually make a lot of sense. I’ll find out,” he tells whoever it is before pocketing his phone.
Hale shrugs when I cast him a questioning look, so I redirect my attention to Killian.
“Something happen between you and Kylie?” Killian asks.
I blow out a long breath and sink back onto the ground.
“I’d take that as a yes,” Hale stage whispers. “He looks guilty as fuck.”
“Why am I getting a strange case of déjà vu?” Benson asks on a tired sigh.
“Because that was Aunt Penny,” Killian tells him absently, his eyes still trained on me. “What happened between you and Kylie? Can you fix it or was it bad?” Killian asks me, then holds his hands up. “I don’t want details.”
“Funny you want any info this time, when I remember a shovel and a bat coming to my house because of one of these calls,” Benson grumbles.
“That was our baby sister,” Hale is quick to point out. “Kylie isn’t.”
“Lilah is your older sister,” Benson drawls.
“Can you fix this with you and Kylie, or are you a major dick?” Killian asks, ignoring Benson and pinning me with an expectant stare.
“First of all, it’s nothing like that. I just might have moved a little too fast, and now I feel like an idiot. Who did she tell?”
“I have no idea if Kylie has talked to anyone,” Killian says with a shrug. “Just making sure it wasn’t anything bad before this party got started.”
He flashes a grin at Hale, whose eyes widen.
“We get to pay for the water cannon?” Hale asks excitedly.
“Fucking finally, yeah,” Killian answers, as Hale fist pumps the air and…starts stretching. “And now we have Black Belt Benson.”
“No,” Benson says, holding a finger up.
“What’s going on?” I ask, but I get ignored as they focus on Benson.
I feel like I’ve missed a very important conversation that the three of them have only shared with their minds.
“They’ve outnumbered us for years,” Hale reminds him.
“They still outnumber you. I’m not doing it,” Benson tells them adamantly.
“You gonna tell Lilah that you let us fight the Malones without your help? Even though you’re a Vincent now?” Hale prods.
Benson curses under his breath, and exhales a sound that suspiciously sounds like hesitant resignation.
Why are they fighting the Malones? No one bothers to mention that. Of course. Not sure why I’m surprised.
“What would Lilah Vincent do?” Killian asks Benson with a smirk.
“Fuck,” Benson groans as he starts stretching as well.
Apparently Lilah Vincent would stretch at a moment like this. I only thought I was starting to understand their weird language.
“What the hell is going on right now?” I ask again.
“Remember how you liked the town for its quirk and charm?” Benson asks me, an annoyed expression on his face as he cracks his neck.
“I’m not sure what that has to do with anything at the moment,” I reasonably point out.
“It means, hello and welcome to Tomahawk, land of the nosiest people you’re ever going to meet, and the rumor mill that changes the first story twenty times until you look like a total dick,” Benson says on a long, frustrated breath.
“You lost me at hello,” I deadpan.
“Give him Heath,” Hale says, pointing at me. “Heath is the slowest.”
“Yeah, but he also hits the hardest if he does manage to land a punch,” Benson argues.
I genuinely thought he was the sane one of this bunch. And all those rumors that their particular brand of mind functioning was contagious sounded preposterous before, but now…
“Give him Eric,” Benson adds.
“Why do I want either of them?” I ask flatly.
Still not getting answered.
“Eric will charge him like a bull, and he’ll be too stunned to react fast enough. Hell no,” Killian argues. “George needs to be the one he’s on. He’s older, slower, and half the time he swings a little too far to the right.”
“You really want him pitted against George Malone right now? The father who has raised his daughter on his own for years, only to see this guy break her heart?”
“Stop!” I shout, grabbing Hale by the shirt and causing his eyes to widen as I jerk him to me. “What the fuck are you talking about? How did I break her heart?”
Hale smiles, which causes me to give him a little shake, and Benson smiles to the right of me. As one, all three say, “Give him Jason.”
I’ve never been a violent person, considering I like to believe I’ve evolved beyond that barbaric sort of instinct. But at this particular moment, my fist comes up before I can stop it, and two hands grapple me back before I can hit Hale for no other reason than that they’re actually driving me mad right now.
“And breathe,” Killian says in a cooing voice that is only used to mock me.
I shrug Killian off me, and they all laugh like this is exactly what they wanted.
“Definitely Jason,” they all say aga
in in creepy unison.
“He’s ready now. We don’t have to babysit,” Killian says as he bumps fists with Hale.
Before I can repeat the cycle of asking a question and getting ignored while growing increasingly furious, I notice a very familiar hover boat driving at hellacious speeds this way, manned by two familiar oversized men. Behind them are three very distinct jet skis that would be considered Harley’s on the water because of their size.
Yeah…they look pissed; the men, not the jet skis.
This escalated much too fast, and apparently you need to know a secret handshake to find out what exactly is going on around here.
“If it’s already spreading around town, why isn’t he getting the baked goods like Benson was?” Hale asks, acting as though it’s no big deal the Malones are docking and glaring daggers at us.
“Kylie’s flag is still up in his yard, so people think she’s there,” Killian tells him conversationally, while the Malones start climbing onto the dock and stalking toward us.
“Ahhh,” Hale says as though that makes perfect sense, finally paying attention to the Malones. “We should lower it until at least a few trays of brownies or cobbler have been delivered.”
The dock creaks under their weight, and Killian yells, “If you break Lilah’s dock, we’ll blow yours up again.”
“And this time we won’t fix it!” Hale adds, a wicked smile on his lips.
“You already broke her dock, jock itch,” Jared Malone says as he flips Killian off.
Killian grins and wiggles his eyebrows as George Malone stands about twenty feet from me, next to all his hulking nephews.
My anger flees when I realize it looks like he wants to murder me, and in place of it, exasperation fills the void. Apparently he’s finally pissed at me for keeping his daughter trapped inside my home.
George points his finger at me. “I warned you,” he growls.
That…confuses me. I thought he’d just flipped his lid. “Warned me about what?” I ask him.
“I told you if I found I saw a speck of blue on her, I was going to tear off your limbs and feed them to the bears.”
I’ll take suggestions on what to say to something like that.
“I’m sorry, what?” is probably the worst response I could give, but it’s the one that pops out.
He continues to point a finger at me. I’m beyond grateful that it’s not armed.
“You hid her away over here in the Vincent corner, hoping I wouldn’t ever see it. But I’m smart, boy. I had Max call me if she came in to buy blue paint.”
“I’m sorry, what?” is again the worst response I could currently have.
“And now I’m going to rip your arms off and beat you with them,” he says on a frustrated breath, not really all that angry.
“That’s a very vivid imagery, but is there any way we could talk about this after I find Kylie and find out what the hell I’ve done?”
Benson snorts, and I quirk an eyebrow at him.
“There won’t be any talking to Kylie, because we will literally break your legs if you try that,” George barks.
Good to know all that limb-ripping stuff must have just been figurative chat before now.
When I open my mouth to speak, he looks away and talks to Killian before I can.
“Figures you brats would be on his side. You sure you want to do this?” George growls.
Killian grins, and Hale positively beams at him.
George snorts, vaguely resembling the sound of a bull.
“And you?” George asks Benson incredulously.
“He’s a Vincent now, remember?” Hale points out, as Benson pinches the bridge of his nose and mutters something about loving this town in mantra, as though he’s convincing himself of this.
Someone shoves Jared out toward Benson’s side, and he curses while glaring at Benson.
“It’s our time to shine, George,” Killian says with a grin.
“You’ve been saying that for years,” Jared states dismissively.
“Will someone, please, for fuck’s sake, just tell me what the hell is going on?” I ask, exasperated.
A boat docks somewhere, but I’m busy staring at George instead of looking to see who it is.
“You’re getting a beating for making Kylie buy blue paint,” Eric tells me helpfully.
“Ah, makes perfect fucking sense,” I tell him dryly.
“See? He gets it. Let’s put the music on and do this,” Heath says.
“Music?” I ask, confused—clearly. It’s apparently the theme of the hour.
Jared curses when Benson smirks at him.
Usually Jared looks like he wants to hurt someone, but apparently Benson is the one guy no one particularly wants to fight.
Jared snatches Eric and pulls him closer. “Five on four means I get one to help me with the ninja,” Jared explains.
“We’re putting Jason on Liam,” Hale states, acting like this is a business transaction of some sort. Or maybe a game of kickball where you try to pick teams.
“Jason?” George asks, stroking his beard thoughtfully as Jason practically foams at the mouth with menace in tangible form. “Interesting choice.”
I’m not okay with this.
Not that anything I want matters.
George shoves Heath toward Killian. “I’m not tangling with that Vincent. I’ll take Hale.”
Hale bounces on his feet, taking a couple of test swings.
“Was it another girl?” George asks me, narrowing his eyes, and a stone drops in my gut.
“Look, I ended things with Felicia after just three weeks with Kylie,” I assure him. “And I would have ended it sooner—”
“What?” everyone asks at once, causing my eyes to widen into saucers when I see this is apparently brand new information.
I’m not sure what exactly the original question was that led me down that hellish path of confession, but I clearly misunderstood it completely.
“That was the first time!” I’m quick to defend. “Not this time. No. I’m one thousand percent Kylie’s boyfriend and no one else’s, and I haven’t been with anyone since her the first time.”
It feels a little warmer out here than it did a minute ago.
“And I would have broken up with Felicia sooner, but I sort of forgot about her,” I prattle on, getting nothing but silent stares in return.
“She was overseas. Out of sight, out of mind,” I add, laughing nervously because I just can’t seem to stop making it worse. It’s as though my mouth has conspired against me.
“Stop talking,” Hale says like he’s truly embarrassed for me.
Hale Vincent is embarrassed for me.
This morning started off so well…
They start arguing my past indiscretions, and I end up word-vomiting the entire fucking story that led to me moving to Tomahawk—a-fucking-gain. Only this time, I don’t omit Felicia.
George still wants me dead, and he instructs Jason to have no mercy.
All of this takes roughly ten minutes, because I leave out all the oral sex pieces out of the conversation I’m having about this daughter.
“I really think there’s a less violent way to—”
Absolutely no one is listening to me anymore, so I just shut up and step back, eyeing Jason as he snaps his teeth at me. What the actual fuck?
Benson moves beside me and says, “This is where you decide how much you really want the girl. Unlike you, I had a lot of years to acclimate to this sort of thing. George may play like he’s okay with his only daughter being in a relationship, but he really needs you to prove you’re in it to stay,” Benson tells me. “This madness? This is what’s fun to them. And they’re over-the-top crazy on a good day, and reckless on a bad one. You can walk away right now, and this doesn’t have to be your life. So I repeat: How bad do you really want the girl?”
I stare at the behemoths who are all snarling at me.
Without another word, I tear my shirt off over my head. I may not particu
larly want to fight any of them over a blue paint purchase that has nothing to do with Felicia, but I sure as hell don’t want to give up the girl.
I also don’t want to give up the damn Vincents. Or even the Malones. And certainly not the refuge I’ve found in Tomahawk. Apparently, I can’t have one foot in and one foot out—or, you know, be a sane and rational person.
They’ve made me crazy.
With a weary sigh, I toss my shirt to the side, and Benson grins broadly.
“Turn the music on!” Hale says as the Vincents start backing up, Benson included.
The Malones back up as well, while Eric grabs a speaker from the boat and sets it up.
“Is there a certain amount of paces we need between us?” I ask, calmer now that I realize there’s no real point to this. They’re just simply crazy.
Crazy I can handle.
Crazy I sort of like.
No one answers as we continue to put several extra feet between our two sides.
Music starts playing, and I realize instantly that it’s Born to be Wild.
“Is this the fight mood music?” I muse, causing Benson to snort and mask a laugh.
The Malones turn it up, and…then everyone just starts punching at the air like they’re warming up. Or maybe I’m getting lucky with a pretend fight. Jason does a Z slash with his hand, eyes trained on me with murderous intent like he’s inside my head and wants to cut out my hope.
Two women running in the distance distracts me for a moment. Are they carrying popcorn?
Shaking my head, I return my gaze to the Malones.
“So when does the fighting begin?” I ask curiously.
As if cued, the chorus screams, “Born to be wild,” starts playing, and several of the Malones start pounding their chests like gorillas. The Vincents howl loudly into the air. Then everyone but me charges into action.
I stand still while nodding to myself. “Of course we were waiting on the chorus,” I say under my breath, dodging the first weird snake-hand strike from Jason before slamming my fist into his side.
This is my Friday.
Chapter 27
Wild Ones Tip #257
We hit first and ask questions later.
But no nipple twisting allowed. Keep it classy.
