What the Hail(4)

By: Lani Lynn Vale


He’d, of course, found it, but not before he ordered my car to be repossessed. Again.

Fucker.

I hated him, and I wanted nothing more than to punch him in his stupid ugly face.

But I couldn’t.

Because this was my new beginning. This was the place that I could hide out from my ex-husband—a man who was scarier than all others, including this piece of shit.

So, I’d deal with Harold. I’d deal with the stupid HOA giving me stupid fines for something that didn’t matter. And I’d deal with my car.

Because it was either that, or I was dead.

And I didn’t want to be dead.

I’d tried it once. It wasn’t for me.





Chapter 4


I’m that person who can’t speak a single sentence without swearing.

-Baylor to his brother

Baylor

I glared at Harold.

“Listen, motherfucker,” I said to the little prick that was standing on my lawn with a fucking ruler in his hand. “I mowed yesterday. It ain’t gonna get no shorter. You can either fuck off, or I’ll fuck you up.”

Which I would accomplish by shoving that goddamn ruler up his ass.

“You’re the second person that I’ve had to fine today,” he said. “She said the same thing. But rules are rules. You signed the HOA contract just like I did.”

Actually, I hadn’t.

I’d scribbled something on the line that resembled a line with a curly twist at the end. I wasn’t going to sign that shit.

If I wanted to paint my house fucking pink, then I’d paint it fucking pink.

The same went for the stupid purple flowers that my mother had planted.

Which, might I add, were still planted around my mailbox and looking quite awesome, if I said so myself.

“And I know we told you last week about the flowers, but if you don’t remove them, they’ll be removed for you.”

I narrowed my eyes at the little fat prick.

“You take those flowers out of my yard, you’ll regret it.”

Harold stood up and crossed his arms over his pudgy belly.

“Maybe,” he drawled. “Or maybe I won’t.”

I knew what he was thinking. He was the only banker in town. Everyone and their brother had their shit at his bank.

I wasn’t scared, though.

All of my shit was paid off, house included.

Though, my brothers still had their shit through Hostel First Bank and Trust.

Likely he was thinking he could get at me through them—like the little turd he was—but he couldn’t.

I’d pay their shit off, too, if I had to.

See, two years ago, I was nearly killed by a drunk driver. That drunk driver just happened to be the little boy of a billionaire, and that billionaire had not only paid all my medical bills, but he’d also given me enough money to make sure that I would never have another want or need in this life. He did that in the form of a six-million-dollar payment and a promise to help me in any way, shape, or form should I ever need it. Anytime, anywhere.

Not that I’d ever use him like that.

He was a good guy with a shithead for a kid. It wasn’t his fault that his son was a dumbass.

A dumbass who was now in a wheelchair for the rest of his life because of that accident.

The accident had not only ended my military career, but it also put me in the hospital for three months, and it had forced me to reevaluate my situation.

Him? He’d ruined his basketball scholarship to UT, one that promised a one-way ticket straight to the NBA. He’d lost the love and support that he’d once had, and he was now living half a life in an in-patient facility that catered to people with quadriplegia because that accident had shattered his spine.

Though, his father still loved him, which was what a good father would do.

My brothers may not want me to pay off their shit, but if that prick, Harold, was going to threaten them to get to me, they better fucking believe that I would pay it off before he could use them in that way.

Not to mention he was one of my least favorite people in the world.

I fucking hated repossessing cars for his punk ass.

Which reminded me of Lark.

Fuck, I couldn’t get her out of my head.

It’d been three weeks since I’d repossessed her car and three weeks since I’d seen her tears.

Honestly, there was nothing special about her. Why the fuck couldn’t I get her off my mind?

It’s because of her big, beautiful gray eyes. Those tears had made her eyes look like a rainstorm, and you fucking love rainstorms.

Goddammit.

“Honestly, Mr. Hail, I don’t see why you can’t follow the rules. The woman, Lark, that lives down the road? She was nice about it. She took the fine, removed the flowers, and promised to have new ones in their place by sundown. That’s how this HOA goes. Everyone is happy, I’m happy.”

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