“That’s to keep Chester from breaking it. He’d never sing or wear a tutu,” Benson tells me when I give him a quizzical look. “This one will last another decade.”
His words are followed by another groan as he shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose.
“That’s still breaking the consequence rule. He had the lake the last time,” Chester argues.
“I added a tutu and a song,” Bill defends.
“It’s different enough,” Vick states dismissively.
Chester’s angry glare returns to me.
“No matter. Eventually the city slicker will be done with the Malone girl the second one of those apes breaks his nose, and he’ll go back home where he belongs. Then we can veto his vote. That will end the challenge without consequence,” Chester states dismissively.
“You saying you want my girl’s heart broken?” George Malone snaps before I can point out that I’m not going anywhere.
“I’m saying he won’t stick around. Just like that fancy ex-wife of yours!”
With a Tarzan battle cry, George Malone—the hulking beast of a man—propels himself over a row of chairs, running right at the older guy. One of the younger guys jumps up, taking the brunt of his tackle.
I slip out when the entire room starts pulling them apart, only to notice Hale sucker punch Kai Wilder, who kicks a leg out so fast Hale can’t stop it. His foot nails Hale in the balls, and Hale drops to the ground, while Kai finishes up his brother’s newly bald head at last and calmly puts the machete away.
“Stop fighting, you morons! The damn troopers are here, and I will arrest you both again!” Vick threatens. “Don’t make me do it. I’m going to count to three!”
Chester stumbles backwards, wringing his hand out after hitting the solid mass that is George Malone.
“One!”
George shoves off one of Chester’s twenty-year-old bodyguards.
“Two! Don’t you make me keep counting! I’ll do it!”
The other Malones wrangle George back, being the only ones capable of doing so, as they remind him he hates the town cell. Just one cell. The other person will have to be confined to the public restroom. I read this in the “newly revised” pamphlet they gave us at the beginning of the meeting.
“Damn it, three!”
Vick goes stalking toward them with handcuffs out, and a squirt-bottle of water, spritzing them both in the face as they cough and curse.
This is my Friday morning.
Chapter 18
Wild Ones Tip #270
If we won’t call you a cunt, it’s because you lack warmth and depth.
In other words, we like people in a weird way.
KYLIE
“So you just left him in bed?” Krysta asks as she shuts the hood of the trooper’s car.
I’m half-assing my lookout task, seeing the troopers cursing the ants that are all over them, running as they try to strip down to their…plaid boxers. I could have lived without ever seeing those hairy backs. But the one trooper has a rather nice, hairless, somewhat alluring back.
It’s not Liam’s back.
Damn Liam.
Damn perfect body.
Lilah’s right—he’s freakishly gorgeous, and I’m sure as hell not.
“What if I’m just a phase? It’s all because he thinks I’m real—whatever that means. I was just something different that landed inside his stagnant lifestyle. It’s like finding a new series to watch, but then getting bored when it starts getting a little too…out there for ya. You know? And this town will get more out there, eventually. And I’ll get more out there.”
“By ‘out there’ you mean crazy, right?” Nila Wilder asks from under the other car.
“Exactly.”
Krysta moves on to the tires, putting two nails in one, and four nails in another. “Daddy’s making me pay for these damn tires, by the way,” Krysta grumbles under her breath. “He said it’s not PC to make them pay for it themselves.”
Lilah watches out for Nila’s side as she bats a hand in my direction.
“I don’t think that’s what PC means,” Nila says from somewhere.
“He’s crazy about you, Kylie. You should have seen the way he talked about you when he first spilled the beans about why he moved to Tomahawk. It isn’t just a passing phase,” Lilah argues. “If he’d told me your name then, I would have shoved you to him sooner.”
“But—”
“They’re coming back!” Lilah hisses, jogging in her combat boots, and jumping over Nila’s legs as she runs toward the back of the car.
Krysta and I both grab Nila’s feet by her hiking boots and drag her out from under the car, causing her to hiss—because the gravel and all.