“You tell her I threatened you, and I’ll break all the bones you need,” George Malone adds.
I nod in understanding, because I’m not really sure what else to say to that.
“I’ll know if you tell her. She gets all smug when we threaten people. I like to wind her up and make her feisty, because my girl is happier when she’s feisty,” he adds with an oddly chipper tone.
I nod again. I’ll agree to anything. Five-to-one odds are never good. Five-armed-to-one-unarmed odds are even worse.
“And one more thing,” he says, eyeing the others in a silent-conversation kind of way.
They get up and walk out without having to be told. As soon as they walk out, shutting the door behind them, George Malone levels me with a cool, terrifying look. “One word to Kylie about who you saw me with, and I’ll hang you up by your ankles and let the boys use you like a dart board until they get bored. You understand?”
“Never once considered saying a word,” I tell him honestly.
He opens his mouth to speak again, possibly to threaten more body parts on me, when Kylie suddenly emerges with a bag over her shoulder, still wearing my clothes.
Her father suddenly starts laughing, shaking his head, his eyes on me.
“You don’t say,” he says, confusing the fuck out of me. “This one is a funny guy, Kylie. Keep him around.”
I force a smile, trying to go along with his crazy charade, and Kylie rolls her eyes while scowling at him.
“You’re a terrible excuse for an overprotective father,” she grumbles.
He just grins and winks at her. “My girl can take care of herself,” he says.
She turns toward me. Like a suicidal fool, when she smiles, I forget my life is at stake and smile back at her.
“You ready to turn into some troublesome woodland creatures?” she muses.
Now I’m just confused. Really.
“The first hit on the trooper is ours,” Kylie calls over her shoulder, heading out the door.
“You kids have fun. Don’t get caught,” George says in a light tone, grinning at us.
Kylie walks out, and I turn around in time to see George’s fake smile vanish like it was an illusion all along. His eyes narrow and he mimes a throat-slicing gesture on his neck before pointing at me.
Right. Got it.
I just nod like a bobble-head doll—because how the fuck else do you respond to that?—and walk out, following Kylie, who hops in on the passenger side of my Jeep.
Then we go to be woodland nuisances.
Because every time I think I’ve reached the maximum capacity of weird, this town just gets weirder.
This is my Thursday.
Chapter 16
Wild Ones Tip #214
Don’t ask questions. Just go with it.
Helmet may or may not be necessary.
KYLIE
“Hold this,” I tell Liam, handing him my bag before heading to the trooper car and popping the hood.
“What’re you doing?” He eyes my tool that is a handmade contraption with squirrel teeth.
The trooper is talking to some people near the docks at the bar. The bar that is boarded up like it’s been closed for several years, when only yesterday it was busy.
“Keep a lookout,” I tell him, gesturing to the side of the building that hides me from sight, but also causes me to lose sight of the trooper as I get to work on his car.
He goes to peer around the corner before looking back at me. “Seriously!” he whisper-yells. “What are you doing?”
“Have you ever watched Super Troopers?” I ask absently, running the tool over a battery cable. When it pops, I move onto another.
“Yeah,” he says, confused as he looks toward me.
“Forget everything you learned about troopers from that movie, because they’re actually—usually—pretty smart. Which means you can’t just cut the wires on a car. They’ll know a person did it. But, you make them think an animal did it, and they get really annoyed.”
I flash him a grin as I quietly shut the hood.
“Step one, pests gone wild on battery cords.”
He looks back around the corner, then hisses out a breath before darting toward me. I giggle while racing beside him through the short patch of woods to where his Jeep is parked.
“So that’s it?” he asks.
I shake my head as we both get in.
“Nope. Step two is make them think they’ve got a disease. That’ll come once the others arrive.”
“What kind of disease?” he muses.
I shrug as he cranks his Jeep and starts driving us away.
“Not shooting for anything in particular,” I tell him.
He just smiles contently as he continues to drive us toward his house, and I stare at him, wondering how in the world he’s taking everything so easily. I’m still trying to wrap my head around him being here.
I finally cut my gaze away when his grin grows, possibly noticing my less-than-subtle staring fit.
He turns onto his road, and I pick at my nails just to have something to do.