Page 49 of Wild Card
Then Gray left, and the fantasy I’d weaved that my brothers would always be there for me had fallen apart. Had reminded me of all the other people who left me. Of all the people who could leave in the future.
I started spending more and more time at the junkyard, needing to prove I could handle being alone. Until one day, I was.
Except for my four-legged crew. They gave me all the love I could handle.
“Yeah, I guess I am lucky,” I told Matteo as I opened the junkyard map on my phone. I showed him the screen. “You check the northeast quadrant. That’s where the Ram truck should be. There’s going to be quite a few trucks over there, so make sure you find the right model.”
“Yeah, got it.”
“I’ll check the tire graveyard to the west.”
“Where old tires go to die?”
“And be reborn,” I joked.
He chuckled. “All right. I’ll text you if I find something.”
“Thanks.” I slapped his arm. “And be careful, unless you want to spend the rest of your day going to get a tetanus shot at the ER. There’s a lot of rusty metal out here.”
He cringed. “I’ll watch my step.”
We parted ways to search for the rims, and I was knee-deep in tires when Dalton texted.
Be there in ten.
Shit, had that much time gone by already? I groaned and straightened, scanning over the piles of tires left to search. Maybe I should cancel with Dalton?
He’d gone to bat for me with Banshee, though. The least I could do was see this plan of his through. If it prevented my dogs from being poached by their former owners, then it would be worth my time.
I’d just have to call Jack Milner and tell him I was mistaken. I started climbing toward the perimeter, placing my feet into the centers of tires as I went. It was like running the most bizarre obstacle course.
Banshee had long ago given up on me and wandered off. Without any pesky dogs nearby, Fireball, the most adventurousof the feral cats, flitted from tire to tire as if to show me how easy it could be.
My thighs and abs burned. I had nothing on Fireball’s athleticism.
The cat’s tail waved like a flag, helping him keep his balance as he leapt atop a tall stack of tires.
“Show-off,” I muttered as his amber eyes fixed on me, his stance one of sheer braggery.
I tripped, nearly falling on my face—Fireball wouldlovethat—and a glimmer of something shiny caught my eye.
Son of a bitch. There were the rims. I’d gone right by them when I first arrived. I regained my balance and clambered over two more sets of tires to get a closer look. Yep, this was definitely the right set.
I called Matteo. “Hey, I found them.”
“Okay. I was just getting ready to text that I was coming up empty.”
“You found the truck, though?”
“Yeah, I was just searching around to make sure the rims weren’t pulled and left nearby.”
“All right. I’m going to need your help. My car is up by the front gate. You’re closer. Can you go get it and drive it over here?”
“Okay, sure. That El Camino looks cool as hell.”
I wasn’t sure “cool” was the right word for the puke green car, but it was a classic that had grown on me with time.
I dragged the rims out into the path between piles of junk. The yard was divided into quadrants with space for a vehicle to pull through.
