Wolf's Hunger (Mafia Monsters #5) - Atlas Rose Page 0,66
dance far too many times to expect anything different. The shower hissed as I yanked off my bloodsoaked shirt and tossed it against the bed before pulling out a fresh shirt from the bag.
Should’ve kept on driving. “Shut the fuck up, beast,” I muttered as I stepped out of my boots and shoved my ruined jeans to the floor, replacing them with fresh black khakis.
“Umm, Phantom,” Church warned as he shrugged into a clean shirt, still peering through the curtains. I stepped closer, watching as the bar’s door opened once more and, lo and behold, a mass of inebriated idiots stepped out…and headed our way.
“Arran!” Church roared. “Shake it clean, brother!”
“Fuck!” Arran roared.
I yanked my shirt on and stepped back into my boots as Arran stepped from the bathroom, toweling his dark hair dry. “Drunks?”
“Drunks,” I affirmed.
“Always the goddamn same,” Arran groaned as the group of assholes stumbled their way across the parking lot.
“Hey, MUTTS!” one at the front roared.
“Motherfuckers,” Arran yanked his jeans on and grabbed the bag, hauling it over his shoulder. “Alright, let’s do this.”
I was the first to the door, opening the damn thing wide and stepped out, meeting the drunken mob head on. “We came here in peace.” I met each stare…every one was fucking vacant.
They didn’t even know why they hated anymore.
Only that they hated.
“We don’t want your kind here, dog.” the fat bastard at the front slurred. The yellow-stained, wifebeater shirt he wore had seen better days…and a lot of mustard stains, by the look off it. It strained across a mountain of belly, leaving a nice gap of hair and fat to poke through at the bottom.
“We’re leaving,” I growled, and glanced at the motel clerk.
But the mob kept coming, swarming around the front of the four-wheel drive.
“You know the thing we hate more than cops?” the fat, ugly bastard lifted a massive fist.
“I know,” Arran answered behind me. “Cardio?”
I winced at the answer, and stepped to the side, meeting the asshole head on. I towered over him…outmuscled him ten to one, as well. I lifted my gaze, finding every dead-pan stare with my own. “I do not want to hurt you.”
One hefted a shotgun, and I sighed.
“Fuck it,” Church growled, and stepped forward, his eyes glistening with savagery as he lifted his hands. Claws curled from the tips of his fingers as he stretched powerful arms forward. “We’ve killed plenty tonight…what’s a few mortals to add to the equation?”
The goddamn FBI. That’s what.
But the warning worked. The fat asshole at the front froze and watched as my second took a step closer and asked, “You first?”
The color seemed to drain from the drunken asshole as he stared at Church’s wicked set of claws.
“Well?” my brother taunted. “Wanna see what you look like on the inside?”
“I d-don’t want them here, Cleo,” the motel bitch squawked from the side.
I jerked my gaze to hers. “Like I said…we’re already gone. Just move out of the way. We don’t want to hurt anyone.”
“I do,” Church disagreed, low and dangerous. “I want to hurt someone real bad.”
The asshole with the shotgun took a step backwards. Then they all did…all except fat guy and motel chick.
“I-I know you,” fat guy muttered, jerking his gaze from Church’s claws. “You’re the ones with your faces splashed all over the news.”
“Not us, amigo.” Arran stepped closer and shook his head. “You must be confusing us with someone else.”
“No,” the asshole shook his head and shuffled backwards with the others. “It’s you. There’s a reward, too.”
Arran just moaned and shook his head. “It’s no—”
“Get in the car,” I commanded. “We’re done here.”
I moved fast, stepping up to the driver’s door. Church and Arran were at the car a heartbeat later. We climbed in, and I started the engine and pulled forward. They moved, just like I knew they would, shuffling out of the way before I punched the accelerator and peeled forward.
“Fuck!” Arran barked and punched the seat. “How the hell are we going to get to her now?”
I told you…the beast rubbed salt into the wound. I fucking told you…
20
“You gonna answer me?” I barked over my shoulder as they pushed me toward the safe house. “You put a tracker on me?”
“For your own protection,” Agent Asshole muttered behind me and pushed me through the open door. "Now sleep. We'll both have to file reports in the morning."
“Fuck your report.” I yanked my arm from his hold and strode toward the bedroom. “And fuck you!”