WEBBER
One year later
I was on the interstate with a fucking dead body in my trunk, and of course I would get a flat.
And, since the body is currently lying on top of the fucking spare tire, there was no way to get the flat changed.
Oh, and to make matters worse, in the scuffle to get this motherfucker into the trunk, I’d not only dropped my phone, but stepped on it.
I was now thirty-two miles outside of Dallas, there wasn’t a gas station for miles, and I was stuck.
Unless I wanted to go to the gas station and call the one person that I swore that I wouldn’t contact ever again.
She was the only one in town thanks to a club poker run that the entire club sans one—me—was on.
I should stay far, far away from her.
But I had no other options.
If I was caught with a dead body in my trunk, I was fuckin’ boned.
Walking the few miles to the gas station it was.
When I got there, the attendant was more than welcoming and handed me her cell phone.
I called a number that I’d never called or texted before, but I’d had since I’d met her.
“Hello?”
Her voice was like a soothing balm to my overly tired soul.
“Silver,” I said. “It’s Webber.”
There was a gasp, and then scrambling. “W-webber?”
“That’s me,” I said. “I need a favor.”
“Anything,” Silver said instantly.
Which made me feel like a complete dick.
When Aella said that Silver was all sunshine and rainbows when she’d first introduced us, I hadn’t realized how exactly right she was.
But over the last year that she’d been a part of my life—even peripherally—I’d come to realize that literally nothing could happen to Silver that would ever make her not smile.
Well, unless I came into the room and scowled at her.
Then that beautiful smile fell off her perfect lips, and she looked like I’d just kicked a puppy.
“Can you go to my office and pick up one of my tow trucks and bring it out to me?” I asked. “I need a ride, and my car broke down.”
I’d purchased the 1969 Pontiac GTO off of Craigslist with the intention of fixing it up.
But when I’d brought it into my shop, I’d realized that there wasn’t much work to be done to it.
The woman selling it had been hell-bent on getting rid of it in a hurry thanks to finding out her ex was cheating on her, and I’d taken the deal knowing that it wouldn’t last long.
The only thing I’d had to do was a tune-up and fix a fuel line.
