Page 37 of Casual Felonies (Wildlings #1)

Silas shakes his head. “Oh no. We never fuck the mark. That’s just gross.”

I guess that answers my question.

“That’s not what I meant, but it’s nice to see you have standards.”

“Who are we without our standards,” he says, repeating a sentiment Baba has shared with me throughout my life.

Silas winks at me, then checks his weapon. I do the same, then we exit his car and cross the street. The front door is formidable, but one door on the four-car garage is open. I’m guessing that’s our entry point.

I’d be concerned about security, but given the weapons and Silas, we could take down a small army before I’d worry about not having enough firepower. Gotta say, I don’t hate walking into a situation knowing I’m gonna win. It’s not like this is enjoyable, exactly, but?—

My self-satisfied internal monologue is cut short by an all-too-familiar country drawl.

“Question, Silas,” Dad asks. “Are you this chatty on all of your operations, or are you just trying to show your cousin a good time?”

We spin on our heels, and Silas drops his chin to his chest. “Well… shit .”

The one phrase you never want to hear from either your barber or a serial killer.

Re-checking his weapon, Sy asks, “What’s the score, Uncle? Are you joining us today?”

“Sorry, kids. Preston Whitaker is off-limits.”

“Like hell he is,” I whisper furiously. “He had Truett kidnapped. He had his own son killed. This guy is the dictionary definition of someone who deserves to die.”

I mean, I’m new to this, but that’s easy math.

Anders takes in the house, his jaw tight. “You’re not wrong. But everyone has a boss, and I’ll remind you that Seth Wakefield is mine. He says Preston is off-limits, so he’s off-limits.”

“Why?” I shake my head. “Surely Wakefield doesn’t think you’d hold back from the guy who is trying to get to your kid through someone else.”

Dad lets out a low and slow breath, and I wonder if he understands how terrifying he looks right now. “I don’t know the ultimate why, but for us, Preston’s the one concession Wakefield’s asked for in return for looking the other way.”

“That doesn’t really answer my question.”

“I know, but I’m afraid that’s as good as it gets.” Dad cracks his neck, then mutters, “I should’ve made your baba do this.”

He takes another calming breath, speaking to himself as if trying to talk himself down from the ledge. But I don’t want that. I want Anders Fucking Bash to grab Preston Whitaker and throw him into the fucking abyss.

Before I can argue my point, Dad holds up his hand. “We’ve taken way worse people off the map, provided cures that no pharmaceutical company would profit from, and created green energy that would send your typical oil and gas people into a spiral.”

He says this like a mantra, like something he’s had to repeat to himself a few times.

Silas wrinkles his nose, then puts away his gun.

I look between the two stone-cold murderers, dumbfounded. “Seriously? We’re not going after him?”

Silas pats my cheek. “Oh, look at you. So sad that you don’t get to murder the bad man.” He turns to Dad. “So, what about the nephew? Is he on the same protected list?”

Dad’s hand goes to his chest, his look best described as stricken.

“How thoughtless of me. Knowing I’d have to let Preston go, I got the nephew on the way in.” He reaches out, grabbing Silas by the shoulder. “I really am very sorry. I didn’t realize he was on your list. Absolutely should’ve checked with you first.”

Silas looks at his shoulder. “Why are you being this way?”

Dad withdraws his hand. “Why am I being what way?”

“Nice to me.”

Even in the middle of all of this, that’s a heartbreaking question.

Dad’s expression softens and he looks at me. “Because my son asked me to.”

Silas holds his gaze for a moment, then shrugs. “I’ll take it.”

Turning to me, Silas pulls out his phone and brings up his Notes app. “While we can’t exact revenge tonight, I have a list of people I need to kill. Wanna come with me on one of these?”

Anders leans in and points at a name. “Oooh, this is a good one.”

I look between the two of them, wondering what’s become of my life. “I honestly can’t tell if y’all are trying to terrorize me or just get me used to this level of crazy.”

The two serial killers exchange a look.

“Both. ”

I sigh. “Then, um, why don’t you two take care of him, and I’ll drive Sy’s car home and check in on True?”

Dad knocks into Sy. “Wanna grab some burgers for the Wildlings after?”

“Top Notch?”

Something approaching pride comes over Dad’s face. “Erik taught you well.”

Sy ducks his chin, and I decide to leave before this gets any weirder.

“What the fuck is going on here?”

We turn toward the house, where Preston Whitaker is stalking toward us from the open garage door, his face red.

Dad holds up his hands, stepping in front of us. “Apologies. A complete misunderstanding.”

Preston draws himself up as if unaware that he’s in the presence of absolute malice. “What kind of misunderstanding?”

Dad taps his forehead, then steps forward, subtly maneuvering until he’s up in Preston’s face. The smile he gives Whitaker would cause greater men to piss themselves.

“They came by to kill you for murdering your son and kidnapping my son’s boyfriend, but I explained to them that you’re a necessary evil.” Dad’s grin widens, and his eyes flash with intent. “At least until Seth Wakefield says you’re not.”

“And if that happens?”

Preston is still acting as though he’s not in mortal danger.

Dad turns to Sy. “Hedy usually sends you on solo missions. Are you okay with partnering up every once in a while?”

Silas rubs his hands together, the move showing off his disturbing tattoos.

“She sends me on solo missions because”—he points to his head—“but I like to mix it up. Regardless, for Mr. Whitaker, I’d happily make an exception.”

“Excellent.” Dad then snaps his teeth at Preston, like a dog fighting the end of his leash. “If Wakefield ever sets me loose, me and baby psycho here will have a field day with you.”

Sy leans in and whispers something in Dad’s ear.

Dad’s grin lights up the night. “Me either!” He winks at me, thumbing a gesture between him and Sy. “Those tests could never capture the entirety of our essence.”

Yep. My dad is never not my dad. Dork .

He returns his attention to Brantley’s dad, who seems to have finally figured out he’s very much in the presence of an irregular sort of danger. Like maybe he realizes that these men are capable of keeping him alive in ways he will not enjoy.

Dad smacks Preston’s arm. “Here’s hoping Wakefield dies before you do.”

I would honestly not think less of the man for losing control of his bowels at Dad’s obvious threat, but when Preston’s expression of fear shifts to smugness, the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

One quick sweep of the area, and I confirm that we’re surrounded by the assholes in black tactical gear. I elbow Silas, who lets out an amused huff, as if he’d already clocked them.

“Teams are expensive to replace, Mr. Whitaker, and we’ve already taken down two. You may wish to order these fine folks to back down.”

Preston must see something in Silas’s eyes because he sends out the signal, and the team disappears into the woods surrounding the houses.

Seemingly bored with the conversation, Dad links elbows with Sy and gestures toward his Jeep. “Shall we?”

Preston retreats to his garage as Sy digs around in his pockets. He produces his fob, which he tosses to me. “Take care of my baby.”

“Will do.”

“Oh,” Dad says, as if an afterthought, “Aunt Hedy’s going to ask you to lunch in the next day or two. Make sure to accept her invite.”

“Okay.”

Dad and Sy, who have forgotten about Preston entirely, are practically skipping toward their little murder spree, and I slide into Sy’s sleek black vehicle.

So. Yeah.

That happened.