Page 16 of Fastlander Phoenix

Lucia Novak might not be able to see that far in advance yet, but it was coming.

He could feel it.

The control had been slipping more and more over the years, and had gotten so much worse when he’d joined the Fastlanders. Damon Daye was convinced this was where he was supposed to be, but Wreck wasn’t sold.

“I thought you were working today,” Captain called from the edge of the clearing.

Wreck threw him a dirty look over his shoulder, put his headphones more securely over his ears, and went back to sanding the wooden board he was working on. He’d come out here to get away from the Crew’s incessant questions.

Captain sidled up beside him, rested his fists on his hips, and nodded like he approved of Wreck’s work. “I know you can still hear me, motherfucker.”

With a growl, Wreck yanked his headphones off, depriving himself of the death metal he’d been listening to in an effort to drown out his whirling thoughts. “What do you need?”

“I don’t need anything,” Captain said calmly. “I was coming out here to offer you help.”

“Do I look like I need your help?” Wreck demanded. “I’m sanding floorboards. It isn’t rocket science.”

“So testy,” Captain muttered as he knelt and picked up a stack of finished boards, loaded them easily onto his shoulder and turned, nearly whacking Wreck in the head with the wood, and then sauntered back toward the trailer park.

“You almost hit me,” Wreck pointed out.

“I know.” Captain said that part without turning around, and Wreck tossed him a middle finger.

Annoyed, he shook his head and went back to work on the row of boards he’d milled with the small sawmill Gunner had dragged into these woods.

Why was he doing this? Because the damn floor in his single-wide had rotted. He’d gone through it and nearly broken his damn leg last night. He had extremely fast healing, but he wasn’t a fan of pain. He had enough of that in his life, what with all the burning and such.

So the single-wide trailer was getting a flooring upgrade, to the real wood stuff that he would screw in to avoid creaking. He definitely wouldn’t break through it by simply walking to the damn bathroom in the middle of the night.

He was nearly done with the next board by the time Captain returned. He did his best to ignore the grizzly shifter, but apparently Captain was feeling chatty today.

“Why are you only eating the yellow ones?” Captain gestured to the pile of chewy candies that sat on a piece of board that had unfortunately been too weak and split in the milling process.

“None of your business,” Wreck said at the exact same time as Captain mimicked, “None of your business.”

Wreck flickered a flame to life in his palm to throw a fireball at his face, but Captain held up his hands in surrender. “Was just pointing out that you are very predictable.”

“He’s right,” Owen, the resident boar shifter, said from where he was leaning on a tree near the clearing.

Great. The idiots were multiplying. Wreck sucked the flame back into his hand, and went back to sanding the board positioned on two sawhorses.

“You’re doing solid work,” Owen complimented him.

“Does no one work around here?” Wreck asked.

“Day off,” Owen offered.

“Same,” Captain said.

Same here, because Wreck had forced himself to take a day off after he had snapped on a client yesterday. That Timber woman was consuming his mind, and he didn’t like it. Made him grumpy. Well, grumpier than usual.

“Want to get lunch?” Owen asked.

“No,” Wreck said before he’d even finished the sentence.

“Dude, we’re trying,” Owen said.

“Trying for what?” Wreck demanded, setting the sander down in utter frustration. “I’m not asking for anything. I don’t want attention! I don’t need to be your fucking friend. The both of you make me unstable. Right now, I’m just trying to keep control so this trailer park survives burning for another day. In five minutes tops, the two of you will be fighting and bleeding each other, true or false?”

---