Page 24 of Fluke
“Making sure this isn’t some type of trojan horse. For all I know, it could be filled with something that’s set to explode in the middle of the night.”
Moss looks around. “I’d be quiet in case he’s listening. He probably didn’t think that far ahead. You don’t want to give him any ideas.”
No shit.
“How am I going to get this out of here?” I ask, taking a step back.
Moss stands beside me. “No clue.”
“Was Maddox in on this?”
“Surprisingly, I don’t think so. I don’t think he’s been home from work yet. I mean, did he know? That’s another question.”
The streetlights flicker on. The light reflects off the colorful metal, nearly blinding me. I shield my eyes and step to the side.
Banks’s truck roars as he comes up the road. You can almost feel his glee in the rumble of the engine. He pulls into his driveway and gets out of the vehicle. He does not come toward us.
“What the fuck is this?” I shout.
“Don’t you love it?”
“I’m going to love beating your ass over it.”
Even from this distance, I can tell that Banks is grinning. “I had a really nice wolf picked out, but you shot down the wolf pack.”
“Wolf pack?” Moss asks.
“Don’t,” I warn Moss.
He snorts.
“Since you were a no to the wolves, the only thing I could think of was getting you a giant dick—you know, something I know you could relate to. But Mom refused to let me put a giant dick in your yard because your house is too close to hers. So I did a little work-around and found a huge cock instead.”
I rub a hand down my face.I hate him. I really do.
“Don’t worry,” Banks says. “I didn’t tear up your lawn, old man.”
I drop my hand. “If this thing isn’t off my lawn by morning, I’m going to throw it through your fucking window.”
Banks walks into the road. “You’re just mad that you got shot down yesterday. Don’t take it out on me.”
Here we go.
A wash of warmth floods my veins at the memory of Pippa.What an interesting, gorgeous woman.
“Banks, shut the hell up.”
“You know,” he says. “You might be able to land her if you had a better attitude.”
Moss holds out his hands. “Can someone tell me what’s going on?”
“And you could walk without a limp if you would’ve had more common sense,” I tell Banks.
“I can walk just fine.”
“You won’t be saying that tomorrow if you don’t get this thing gone.”
He stops in the middle of the road, halfway between Moss’s house and mine. “Or what?”
