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Authors: Jenika Snow

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BOOK: Grin and Bear It
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Chapter
Twelve

 

“You
see those bastards?”
Jakob
said, sitting beside Mason
in the passenger side of his SUV.

Mason
had come straight to the bar that he’d been told those little assholes were at.
The other Grizzlies were still inside, but
Jakob
and
Bodhi were in the vehicle with him, waiting for the soon to be dead fuckers to
leave.

“Odin
will give us the call when they’re heading out, but I just got a text saying
they are still drinking pretty heavily at the bar. Clearly they don’t remember
the guys still inside from when they tried to go up against us at the party,”
Bodhi said, leaning forward and having the leather seat creak from the weight
and action. “That or they are the stupidest motherfuckers in the world.”

Mason
just gave a low grunt, kept his focus on the front doors of the bar, and felt
like he was about to tear right through his skin.

“What’s
the plan?”
Jakob
asked. “You going to go grizzly on
their ass or do this straight up human?”

Mason
rolled his head around his neck, cracked his knuckles, and felt the adrenaline
and endorphins of the coming fight rush through him. “I’m not going to shift
and take them out. That would be too easy. I want to make them suffer.”

There
was a murmured grunt from
Jakob
and Bodhi.

“You
want to smoke before we do this?” Bodhi asked.

Mason
shook his head without taking his gaze off the bar. “I want a clear head when I
do this.” Mason wanted to experience all of this, wanted to make these assholes
hurt, make them realize that when they fucked with the Grizzlies they were
going to get dead.

The
sound of Bodhi’s cell vibrating had Mason sitting up straighter.

“It’s
Odin. He says they’re moving. The rest of the club will be right behind and
will follow us.”

Mason
started the SUV and stared at those front doors as if he could will
them
open. A second later they burst outward, and the three
motherfuckers that had tried to crash their party stumbled out. Even from
across the street Mason could hear their loud, drunken conversation. He
remembered looking into the windshield of the truck right before he’d gone
down, remembered seeing those assholes,
could
practically smell their excitement over everything as the bullets tore through
Mason’s body.

They
climbed into the same truck they’d been in all those months ago, the same truck
Mason had pictured over and over again. He clenched his hands around the
steering wheel, feeling it creak from the pressure, threatening to break.

Another
second passed, and Odin, Lucas, Cain, Nico, and even Dakota came out of the
bar. Hell, he even saw Ben, who was in school to become a doctor, follow
behind. It seemed all of the next generation guys were here to make this
happen, to have Mason’s back.

They
didn’t look at the guys, didn’t have their cuts on, either. It was clear the
human bastards hadn’t realized who had been drinking a few feet from them,
shrouded in the shadows.

Good.

And
then Mason was pulling onto the road, following the truck, and keeping a good
distance behind. His attention was trained, focused, his bear right there, but
Mason’s human side was not about to give this up. He wasn’t going to let the
animal take care of this. Mason needed to slam his fist into flesh, needed to
see the pain that crossed over all of their faces. He needed to do this and
really feel the pleasure of finishing this.

About
twenty minutes later the truck was pulling into an older, rundown one-story
house. Mason pulled the SUV to a stop across the street, cut the engines and
lights, and stared at the other vehicle. The guys climbed out, their voices
still loud, their movements sloppy from being drunk.

“This
might be too easy,”
Jakob
said. “They’re drunker than
piss.”

Yeah,
they were. Mason had watched the entire trip as they swerved, the truck moving
into the next lane before swerving back.

“I
don’t care. This ends tonight.” Mason took his keys out of the ignition, looked
in his rearview mirror, and saw the other SUV and the Mustang that held the
other Patches were close behind him.

The
humans walked into the house, and a second later the lights went on.

“It’s
just the three of them,” Bodhi said.

It
wouldn’t have mattered if the house were full of humans. Mason would have taken
them all out.

“Let’s
do this.” Mason shoved his keys in his pocket, got out of the vehicle, and a
second later he heard car doors opening and closing as the rest of the club
followed. He felt them, sensed their bears. He stopped when he was only a foot
from the front door, heard the loud music that came from the house, and turned
to see all the guys standing there, waiting.

“How
do you want to do this?” Cain, Jagger’s youngest son, asked.

“Everyone
stay out here. I can handle this.” He knew they wanted to show their support,
have his back, but Mason needed to do this by himself.

“I’m
going in with you.”
Jakob
was the one to speak, and
Mason faced the other male. “You can bitch about it all you want, but I’m going
in with you.”

It
took a moment for Mason to accept it, because he knew
Jakob
wouldn’t give up. He was just as stubborn as any Grizzly.

Mason
nodded once, glanced around the low-income neighborhood, realizing that most of
the lights were off, and that they probably would not have any trouble with the
cops. Neighborhoods like these tended to shy away from calling authorities if
shit went down, and that would work to his benefit.

He
turned and faced the door again, and with one brutal kick with his foot to the
scarred wood, he busted the door open.

The
guys were sitting on the couch, the coffee table in front of them having a
baggie of pot, a mirror between them, and lines of coke covering the glass. The
one in the center, the one Mason remembered was named Beau from when they’d
crashed the Grizzly party, looked up. He held up a rolled up dollar bill, and
his eyes widened for a second before he took them in. His gaze went back to
Mason, and he snarled.

“What
the fuck?” Beau said, his words slurring. “Well, look who it is.” He set the
dollar bill down and rose. The other two did the same. “Thought we killed your
ass.”

The
other two guys started laughing.

“That’s
what we were going for anyway.” Beau leaned down and snorted a line off the
glass.

It
was just Mason and
Jakob
in the house, with the other
Patches waiting outside. They’d come in if there were problems, but that was
almost laughable. The only “problems” there would be was these three
motherfuckers hitting the floor.

Mason
could have prolonged this, but standing so close to them, remembering what
they’d done, had his beast rising up. He just reacted with a mighty roar. Mason
charged forward, slammed his body into the guy that was on the far left,
throwing out punches, feeling his bear right there. His claws started to
emerge, but he pushed the animal back. This would be a human fight.

One
of the guys tried to pull Mason back, but with a swing of his arm, his strength
ten times as strong as these assholes, even in his human form, he was able to
have the guy flying through the room and hitting the opposite wall. They fell
to the floor, Mason on top, his teeth bared,
his
anger
fierce. He slammed his fist into the human’s face, over and over again until
blood covered his knuckles, splashed on his shirt, and bone crunched from the
human’s nose breaking.

He
sensed
Jakob
close, ready to fight, but standing back
and giving Mason time to deal with this in his own way.

Climbing
off the unconscious human, Mason would figure out what to do with him after he
took out the other two. His chest heaved as he turned around and stared at the
other males. The one he’d knocked against the wall was standing, his eyes wide
as he looked at his buddy on the floor.

“This
is fucked up,” he said to himself and looked at Mason. He held his hands up.
“I’m not involved. It was him.” He pointed to the one named Beau. “It was his
idea, him driving and pulling the trigger.”

“You
coward,” Beau spit out.

Mason
shook his head. “You were there, so you get this, too.”

The
guy shook his head fast.

“Shit,
Mason,”
Jakob
said, disgust in his voice. “The punk’s
pissing himself.”

Mason
looked at the human that was now apologizing over and over again, telling him
he didn’t want this, that none of this was his fault. The puddle of piss was
growing around his feet, his jeans soaked from his fear.

“Take
it like a man, you motherfucker,” Mason said on a growl.

“I’m
sorry,” the human was stuttering out.

Mason
was on him in the next second, grabbing him around the neck and throwing him up
against the wall hard enough his head cracked on it and he passed out. He was
alive, for the time being.

And
then it was just Mason and Beau, the clear leader of this trio of pussy ass
human bitches.

“You
were following me, weren’t you?” Mason asked, cracked his knuckles, and rolled
his head around on his neck. “That’s how you knew where I was, when I was alone
and on my bike.” Mason thought about that day that he was shot at and run over.
He was damn lucky to be alive.

Beau
didn’t answer, but he did smirk. The drugs were clearly making him have bigger
balls than he really did.

“You
came after my club, came after me.” Mason took a step closer. He had to give it
to the human, he had balls of steel for not backing away. The scent of his
apprehension was in the air, but he was not afraid. Maybe he was too drunk and
high to realize that this wasn’t going to go well for him? It didn’t matter
though, because he’d find out soon enough.

Mason
felt primal right now, animalistic, and ready to tear this asshole apart, ready
to put this behind him so it wasn’t consuming every part of him anymore.

The
sound of boots crunching behind him, and the smell of the rest of the club
coming into the house, came through to Mason, but he didn’t stop looking at
Beau.

“Maybe
I did, and maybe I didn’t. What the fuck does it matter anyway?”

“You’re
from River Run, yet you act like you don’t know who the fuck you’re dealing
with.”

Beau
shrugged again. “I’m not even originally from this shitty town.” Beau started
laughing. “I didn’t know shit about you or your little Boy Scout crew until
after that night I saw you guys partying.” Beau looked at the Patches behind
Mason. “Kind of outnumbering me,” Beau snarled.

Mason
grinned. “No, this is just you and me, motherfucker. These boys just want to
watch.” He saw Beau swallow, smelled the spike in the air from his fear, the
fact he was getting smart and realizing his cocky attitude and trying to act
tough wouldn’t end well.

“But
I did find out who the fuck you were after the fact, and it was easy as shit to
follow you. Just knowing you thought you ran this town pissed me off on top of
that back talking you did at the party. I’m glad you got fucked up.”

Mason
growled low.

“I
should have stayed behind and made sure your ass died, made sure you looked in
my eyes and realized you fucked with the wrong person.”

That
had Mason sobering even harder, had his anger rising. “You don’t know who
you
fucked with.” The club owned this
town, and anymore that fucked with them was as good as dead.

He
knew Beau was going to come after him, but Mason stood there, watching as he
came forward, his face a mask of hatred, and swung out. Mason didn’t move.
Beau’s knuckles connected with his jaw, and Mason didn’t make a sound as he
felt his skin open up. He’d give the prick this one shot, but that was all he
was getting.

And
when it was done Mason grabbed Beau around the neck, tightened his hold, and
lifted him off the ground. He walked them until Beau’s body was pressed to the
wall. For a second all Mason did was stare into Beau’s eyes, watch as
capillaries burst, as the blood covered the whites.

Beau
gasped for air, struggled to breathe, to remove Mason’s hands from around his
neck. But he was no match for Mason, and his struggling proved weak and
fruitless.

“I’ve
been waiting all this time to come back here and finish this, to take out you
and your little bastard friends. It’s all I’ve been thinking about.” Mason let
him go, and Beau crumbled to the floor, gasping for air, staring up at Mason
with white, red eyes. “I fantasized about coming here and tearing your throat
out, making you suffer, making you cry and scream.”

Mason
turned and looked over his shoulder, saw all the guys watching, their faces
showing nothing. They’d have his back no matter what, even if that meant
standing there and watching this play out, ready to make a move if Mason needed
it.

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