Page 37 of Finding Storm

“Fine.” He sighs. “I’ll sort it when I get back later.”

I grin. I don’t like doing pickups, but they’re a hell of a lot better than unblocking a toilet.

“Where’s the tow?”

“Main Street.”

“Uh, where on Main Street?”

“No clue. All I got was Main Street. I was busy when I took the call.”

I give a mental eye roll. “Well, what’s wrong with the car?” I ask him, wanting to know what I’m gonna be rolling up to.

“Considering I haven’t seen it, I’m gonna have to say, no fucking clue.”

“You’re hilarious,” I say in a droll voice. “I meant, what did they say was wrong with it?”

“The dude said there was black smoke coming out of the exhaust, and it was making a clanging sound. It could be the air filter.”

“Is this dude someone I know?”

“Didn’t recognize the voice. So, I’d say no.”

“And did you get a name?”

“Nope.”

“Christ, Beck. You didn’t get a name?”

“I. Was. Busy.” He punctuates. “Still am.”

“You’re such a pain in the ass,” I tell him. “You’re sending me out to tow a total stranger, and you didn’t even get his details. He could be a serial killer.”

“Who gets his victims by ringing a garage,” he says drily.

“Could be his MO.”

“Drama queen.”

“Buttmunch.”

“If he is a killer, you’ll probably talk him to death before he gets a chance to kill you. So, I wouldn’t worry.”

I flip the bird even though he can’t see. “If I get murdered on the side of the road, I’m gonna haunt you for the rest of your life.”

“So, no different to every day of my life for the past twenty-four years.”

“Asswipe.”

He laughs. “Go do the fucking tow, cry baby. Dad’s waiting on me.”

“Make sure you unblock—”

The fucker hangs up on me before I get a chance to finish my sentence.

“Ugh!” I grumble, getting to my feet.

Then, I realize that he never told me what make the car I’m going to collect is.