Taking a deep breath, I opened the car door and surveyed the damage. It was worse than I’d thought. Not a single surface had been spared the sparkly savagery. The vents were full of the stuff, and it already appeared to be one with the carpet. Turning on the air would probably result in a whole damn glitter storm.
Had the mysterious woman somehow acquired a super-powered glitter bomb? If I weren’t furious, I would have to admit the carnage was rather impressive.
Like I didn’t have enough bullshit to deal with—now this. What was that saying?Glitter was the herpes of the arts-and-crafts world?
Well, I needed a shot of penicillin and a damn good cleanse.
Growling softly to myself, I accepted my fate. Using one hand, I tried to futilely wipe some of the evil substance off the seat, only succeeding in making an even bigger mess.
Everything in me was itching to haul myself out of the car and chase after the omega.
Whoever the Arlo in question was, he was in a whole world of trouble.
The drive home could only be categorized as painful. Every time I took an even mildly sharp turn, glitter would puff up into the air like a pink cloud of shiny doom. At one point, I stupidly turned on the air conditioning—LA was already hot as fuck, and I struggled without my creature comforts—and succeeded in turning my car into a vortex of glitter.
It was probably embedded in my lungs. If I coughed, would it come out shimmering?
By the time I pulled up outside our home, I was in a foul mood. Not only was the car covered, but so was I. My skin was itching, my clothes were sparkly, and my rage was simmering.
Slamming the car door shut harder than I probably should have, I stormed toward the house. I didn’t care about anything other than getting my ass in the shower and possibly burning my now sparkle-infested suit.
“Hey, Parker, can we—oh…” Hunter trailed off as he walked into the hallway, taking note of how I looked. “What the hell have you been up to?”
I glanced down at myself. How would I even explain this situation? I settled on the hard facts.
“An omega glitter-bombed my car,” I growled. “Now I need a shower. We can talk business later.”
“Uhh…that gave me more questions, honestly. What did you do to incur that level of wrath?”
“Nothing!” I snarled, throwing my hands up. “I did fuck all to deserve this!”
Hunter’s eyes widened slightly. “Okay, I’ll ask my questions after you shower, but while I’ve got you alone”—his voice lowered—“Logan’s mother has been trying to message him for more money again.”
A deep, bone-weary sigh escaped my chest. “I’ll take care of it,” I said, my pink, twinkling state momentarily forgotten.
Logan was one of us and we loved him dearly.
His family, on the other hand, were leeches determined to ride on his coattails and spend all his money. Logan had a soft spot for his family and struggled to say no to them, since he was only recently starting to see how they cared about his wealth, not him.
As his pack mates, we hated to watch it. Technically, while I held the reins to the bulk of our fortune, the guys could do whatever the fuck they wanted with our money, but we had safety measures for dealing with outsiders. If Logan’s mother wanted more money than what we already gave her—which was far too generous in my opinion, given how she’d treated him growing up—then she needed to go through me so I could be impartial and Logan couldn’t be manipulated by his witch of a mother.
“She’s pushing,” Hunter grimaced.
I smirked. “I’ll push back harder.”
A smile spread across Hunter’s face. “Good. Now, should I call the detailers for your car, or is it a lost cause?”
“Go see for yourself.” I gestured back toward the front door.
He nodded. “You know what? I think I will.”
Before he could even take a step toward the door, Avery came barreling in. “Dude! Have you seen Parker’s car?” His eyes landed on me, his mouth dropping open in surprise, a look of glee filling his face. “Been having fun at the strip club, have we?”
I bristled. “I havenot.”
That didn’t deter Avery one fucking bit. “On the contrary, I think they use thisexactshade of glitter at that dive bar downtown on Stripper Saturdays. I would know, as I was a regular there before I met my perfect angel.”
Glaring at my pack mate in abject silence usually worked to shut him up, but not this time.
