Going Wild (The Wild Ones 2)

“You’re not kidding.”

She slowly shakes her head. “Mud doesn’t come out of suede too easily, if at all.”

“So this will be the most dangerous ride of my life?” I ask, grinning.

“Very possibly,” she tells me with a firm nod.

I open my mouth to speak, but someone knocks on the door. I get up to go answer it, but Kylie beats me to it. She swings it open, and I see a girl—can’t remember her name—holding a covered dish.

She takes one look at Kylie, darts a glance over her shoulder at me—I’m still shirtless, because Kylie won’t stop looking—and then back to Kylie before paling.

She slowly steps back, just as Becky did last night, and I grin as she suddenly turns and sprints back to her Explorer, the dish crashing to the ground as she races away like death is on her heels.

Kylie shuts the door, not even blinking an eye, while I try not to laugh.

“So you move here to stalk me,” she says as she turns around to face me, “but you get a house on the Vincent corner of crazy?”

Apparently we’re not going to discuss the fact she didn’t have to speak to utterly terrify a girl.

“I had no idea there were factions of crazy levels. Only locals are privy to that knowledge, apparently, so I was in the dark until it was too late,” I tell her, smirking.

“Touché,” she says, her smile slowly returning.

“Maybe you should leave the boots here,” I tell her as she grabs my keys.

“Why?” she asks, looking over her shoulder, as the sound of dirt flying up outside reminds me a girl is speeding away from here like she just saw the apocalypse coming.

“Because I’d hate to die before I finally got you under me.”

Blush hits her cheeks, and she clears her throat.

Wordlessly, she takes off her boots, neatly placing them against the wall, and I grin as she turns and faces me.

“Come on. I’ll teach you how to drive in Tomahawk.” She glances at my chest. “And put on a shirt. I don’t need any distractions or you might die anyway.”

Chapter 14

Wild Ones Tip #18

Wild Ones won’t intentionally kill you. But shit happens. Buckle up.

Wear a helmet. Sign a waiver. You know, the usual.

KYLIE

Liam is clutching the oh-shit handle like his life depends on it as I spin another donut, laughing when he hisses out a breath. Mud slings up, and I cut the wheel, blasting music.

I howl into the air as I gas it, then take the next turn, using the perfect momentum to keep us from flipping. Because, I don’t really want to die, obviously.

He finally loosens up and laughs a little, and I drive fast across the muddy field, glad that I left my boots behind, because the mud is viciously slashing inside.

“Where the hell are we?” he asks, as I spin out of another tight circle.

“A Wilder field. They own all the land on this side of the lake other than one little cabin an old lady owns.”

“Old lady?” he asks, having to yell to speak over the music and roar of the engine. “No name? You’re slacking. I thought you knew every local here to share or withhold secrets from.”

I smile as I take another cut.

“She’s not a local. She’s a seasonal. Or used to be. She stopped coming two years ago. She’s a horror writer, and she came out here in the summers for peace and quiet to write gruesome death scenes. No doubt she was killing the Wilders in the books, because they obviously disrupted the peace and quiet she came here for.”

He laughs again, as I cut the wheel once more.

“So the Wilders don’t mind you tearing up their field?”

“Nah. They’ll come out here and join us if they see us.”

Just as I sling out of another donut, a loud shaboom rattles the air, sounding like a cannon, some crispy fireworks, and a Titan’s whip-crack all at once.

My chest vibrates and my body tingles as a pulse washes over us, and mud bursts into the air about a hundred yards from us, shooting up in a spray.

Fuckity fuck.

I gas the Jeep, driving like hell back toward the road.

“What the hell was that?!” Liam demands, his relaxed posture gone now.

“Tannerite. Warning shot,” I tell him quickly, just as another blast sends a pulse toward us, and another spray of mud flies up.

“The fuck? I thought you said they’d just join us,” he says in a much higher voice than usual.

My ass is clenched as the next pulse hits again, driving me forward. This is why those fuckers are wildcards.

“They would…unless they feel like being dicks today, which they clearly do,” I say, mentally noting some serious payback. “And they might not know I’m driving this shiny new Jeep either.”

“Motherfucker!” he shouts as mud sprays us, and a painful pulse has me driving that much faster. “This is a time when a phone would be a good fucking idea!”