Lucky: The Irish MC Read Online Free Page B

me warm.
     
    “Do you expect me to do this by myself?” I asked out loud, stomping the ground. My voice echoed off the dusty boulders and hills. There was no answer. If the old man up the hill heard me yelling, he gave me no sign whatsoever. “Fuck!” I cried out in frustration, kicking at a rock. It was heavier than I expected and a bolt of pain shot through my foot. Crying out, I grabbed my wounded foot and hopped around. Tears sprang to my eyes and I cursed loudly.
     
    Stop being pathetic , I thought in irritation. If you want to fix this and go home, just unload the goddamn cargo yourself . I stood and breathed in deeply until the ache in my foot was beginning to subside. It hurt whenever I put weight on it, but I knew that it likely wasn’t broken. I was all smiles and confidence until I yanked open the cargo gate of my rig and saw the sheer size of the carton. This is going to take some serious strength, I thought with a frown. What the fuck happened to those guys who were supposed to meet me?
     
    With a sigh, I hauled myself up and into the back of the truck. The carton was the only thing that I was carrying, and while it took up an immense amount of space, I was struck with a weird, abandoned sense. I wasn’t used to seeing my truck this empty. It really hit it home that I was finally at the end of a long run.
     
    Warily, I circled the cargo box. There were holes in the top but they weren’t big enough to be air holes. I remembered when I’d asked if a gorilla was inside. Jimmy had given me the weirdest look imaginable. As I approached the crate, I tripped on a small piece of metal and went flying. I landed on my hands and knees on the bed of my truck and cried out in pain. Somehow, my foot had twisted and I clutched it to my chest and howled, rocking from side to side.
     
    From inside the shipping carton, there was a loud noise, like a whoop. Or a shout. I jumped to my feet in terror and backed away from the carton. Whimpering, I stared at it. There was no more noise, the crate was silent. Maybe it had just been something outside, and I’d thought it was coming from the carton. Swallowing hard, I peeked outside. No one there. Twilight was coming on strong, and I shivered as a strong gust of air blew into the truck. It tugged my shirt up and made a mess of my hair. Blinking, I turned back to the carton.
     
    I didn’t know what to do. I wasn’t ever supposed to open cargo under any circumstances, but this seemed like an exception. And if I didn’t act fast, I’d be trapped in the yard for the night. Even though I’d spent months on the road, the idea of spending one more night away from home was torture. I knew that I had to find out whatever was in that box. Maybe it was nothing, but the noise had really scared me. As quietly as I could, I hopped out of the back of the truck and scurried back around to the cab. I always kept a crowbar on me, and I had to dig around for it under the seat. Months of empty soda cans and juice bottles knocked against my hands as I dug for it. Finally, my hand closed around cold metal. I brought the crowbar to my chest and stalked back to the back of the truck. For some reason, I was almost surprised to see that the carton was still there. It was like part of me had expected it to grow legs and wander off on its own.
     
    As I climbed back into the bed of the truck, I hoisted the crowbar high. It seemed silly to be so afraid—the carton was nailed shut. I knew that whatever was inside wouldn’t exactly be able to burst out and get me. But still, I felt like I should be exercising a lot of caution. I stalked around the carton slowly, trying to discern what was inside. There was no sound whatsoever. Even when I jabbed the side of the box with the crowbar, it was silent. Finally, I was sick of waiting. I pried open the top, then one of the sides. It was dark, and all I could see was a tangle of shadows. Stepping away from the carton, I brandished the crowbar in front of