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“Kid’s got a point, Skylar. Can’t play unless we know the prize. Got to have something good to fight for.” Scribe grinned mischievously.
Narrowing my eyes at the instigator, I took a deep breath and said, “Okay. The winner gets an ice-cream.”
“That ain’t no prize, sissy. Scribe already said he was gonna take me to town when we get to our new home. Said a smoking hot chick made the best ice-cream in town. Scribe said I could get whatever flavor I wanted.”
“Okay, what about a new book?”
My brother gawked at me in horror.
“Okay, no books. What about a free day? No rules and you can do whatever you want?”
“No baths?”
“Hell no!” Mr. Montclair spoke up. “No matter what, you are getting a bath.”
“Then I ain’t playing this stupid game!” Cameron shouted back.
“Scribe,” Mr. Montclair growled, gripping the steering wheel tighter.
“Uh, how about the one who is the quietest gets a ride on my bike?”
My brother gasped, turning to his new best friend. “A real motorcycle?”
“Yep.” Scribe smiled, puffing up his chest like he was the cat’s meow or something. I could have told him that Cameron had already been on a bike before. Our dad had a Harley and frequently took Cameron out for rides to give Mom a break.
“Can I drive it?”
“Uh...”
“No!” Mr. Montclair said before Scribe could utter another word. “You’re too young. Take the deal, kid. Scribe doesn’t let just anyone on his bike.”
“Fine,” my brother huffed. “But I get to say for how long.”
For three blissful minutes, the cab of the vehicle was utterly quiet, until we all heard Frank mumble. “My apologies.”
Before anyone could ask, the most horrendous, god-awful smell permeated the cabin of the SUV. Quickly covering my mouth and nose, I reached for the button next to me and lowered the window, as did everyone else. Leaning closer to the window, I tried to breathe in the fresh air as my eyes watered.
“My God,” Scribe gasped, hanging his head out the window. “I can taste it!”
“Jesus Christ,Frank,” Priest coughed, hiding his face in his shirt, trying desperately to lower his window.
Cameron laughed boisterously, turning in his seat to high five Frank, who looked repentant. “That was a good one, man!”
“Never again,” Mr. Montclair muttered from behind his hand as he slowed the vehicle and made a left-hand turn into a large compound surrounded by an eight-foot-tall chain-link fence. Slowing the vehicle further, Mr. Montclair parked the vehicle in front of a large two-story cabin, before quickly jumping from the vehicle and taking his own deep breath.
Unbuckling my seatbelt, I got out of the SUV as did everyone else, even Frank, who blushed and apologized once more just as Scribe and Priest jumped on him, taking him to the ground. Thinking it was a free for all, my brother Cameron ran and jumped on Scribe’s back, laughing.
“Hit him again, Scribe!” my brother yelled.
“Skylar Rose?”
Turning, I stared at a large man, who looked similar to Mr. Montclair, just older. He had kind eyes and when he smiled, it softened his face. Next to him was a stunningly beautiful woman with jet-black hair and eyes so green they looked like emeralds. “My name is Callum Montclair. I knew your dad. I am so sorry for your loss. Kevin was a damn good Marine. It was an honor to know him.”
“Thank you, Mr. Montclair,” I said, shaking his hand as I heard Cameron scream, then immediately laughed as Frank picked him up and threw him over his shoulder.
“Call me King,” he smiled. “And this is my woman, Bailey.”
Greeting the beautiful woman, I smiled, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
