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I laugh manically, unable to help myself, as the pulses get less and less intense, letting me know they’re simply fucking with us now. I blow out a breath, but Liam is still watching the mirror, worried they’ll come after us.
“The Wilders don’t even have the Internet, much less a phone. Their main source of income is growing all the weed that our one cop deals to locals and various other towns. That’s how they make all their money. Only the Wild Ones are supposed to know that, so they keep everyone else off their land.”
He whips his head toward me.
“Then why did you just tell me?”
I go a little stiff. I honestly have no idea why I just told him that.
“Just felt like explaining what was going on,” I say uneasily.
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice his lips twitching. He knows I just slipped up by forgetting he wasn’t…here permanently.
“Why worry? Pot is legal in this state.”
“Not in the quantities people buy it in, and it’s still illegal to grow it. Plus, you make more money when taxes and licenses aren’t involved. We don’t do things like normal people, remember?”
We race down the road, getting out of Wilder territory. I don’t slow down until I see the sickening sight of a Trooper passing us, his lights and siren coming on in unison as he whips around and comes after us.
“Shit,” I hiss.
“What? It’s just a speeding ticket. I’ll pay it,” he says from beside me.
“That would be great…if I had a license.”
He groans. “You don’t?”
“Well, I did. It was taken away two years ago…in another state. Sort of forgot I couldn’t be an idiot anywhere but Tomahawk. The troopers aren’t supposed to be here yet.”
“I’m sure they were on their way to the Wilders’ place with all that shit blowing up too. Is Tannerite illegal?”
Fuckity fuck fuck.
“I don’t think so, but it’s safe to assume all things are illegal when the troopers are here. Pretty sure you need a license for explosives, and the Wilders will have no such thing. And the last place that needs investigating is the Wilders’.”
He pulls out his phone as I pull over on the side of the road. The trooper’s car stops behind ours.
“Glad one of us has a phone,” he says with a smirk. Then the phone is at his ear. “Hey, Killian, it’s me. The troopers are here. You need to get over to the Wilders’ place and warn them, because there was some Tannerite issues.”
He pauses, smiling over at me.
“Yeah. I promise to tell you later,” he goes on. “Right now, I’m going to have to keep Kylie out of jail.”
He glances back over his shoulder, and then he tugs me so hard that I almost slap him. Until I realize he’s shifting over me, staying on his phone. I quickly, and awkwardly, scramble to the passenger seat, buckling up like I’ve been here all along.
I look back to see the trooper’s head is down, so I hope that means he didn’t notice the swap.
Liam relaxes behind the wheel, and he continues to talk.
“Only seen one so far. But hurry. I’m not sure how long I can stall, and he was on his way out there.”
He hangs up and flashes me a smile just as the trooper gets out and walks this way.
***
“I said I was going to let you go with a warning, and you’re telling me you want a ticket?” the trooper asks, understandably confused.
At least he has no clue that Liam wasn’t driving.
“I think I deserve one. The lone officer here is really strict on his residents. I never want to be disrespectful by ducking out on a deserved ticket,” he says so innocently, knowing writing a ticket will take a lot longer than a warning.
At least I assume it will. Since I’ve never had either one, I’m curious. I just got arrested and had my license suspended for driving a car into a swimming pool.
Long story.
And, yes, I was sober when it happened.
And, no, no one was hurt. I really thought I could make the jump. Dukes of Hazard style.
Their ramps were small and they jumped long distances with very little effort or speed.
Clearly that doesn’t work for people like me. I’m not sure where I went wrong, but at least now I know I can’t jump the lake. It was a failed trial run, but a wonderful learning experience.
“You’re the first person to ever argue their way into a ticket,” the trooper grumbles, writing something down.
I watch as Killian drives by in his Jeep, smirking at us as he passes. I blow out a relieved breath. The Wilders will close the gates to their land, and the trooper can’t trespass. I’m sure they’ll also be roadside, a feasible explanation for the Tannerite ready.
