Jacks, Marcy - Mason Returns to His Mate [DeWitt's Pack 8] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic ManLove) (5 page)

It was small as all hell, but he could unlock it from where he was

and squeeze through if he tried.

The first thing he did was grab a Glock. He’d lied when he told

that old psychopath out there and his team that he had no handguns. It

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was his only handgun, and he had only a single clip to go with it,  unfortunately, but it was that or nothing. He wasn’t about to toss any  of the rifles he had out the window for him to collect when he got  outside in case those men would go out there and see that then simply  wait for him. He had no time.

Derek put the clip to the gun in his pocket and made sure the gun was empty before he stuck it in the back of his pants and climbed on top of a crate so he could reach the window.

The last thing he needed was to blow himself another ass crack.

He wormed his way out of the window and nearly fell on his face.  The wind was pretty much knocked out of him on that clumsy fall on his chest, but he was still alive.

Derek groaned, forced himself to his feet, and started to hobble off. Now that he was outside, he could better hear the wailing of the men inside his shop, as well as the destruction as they tore through the place, knocking over his shelves. He cringed at the sound of glass shattering.

Whatever was going on in there, they were occupied. They thought he was trapped in that room, and they were going to spend a couple hours trying to get the door open before they realized Derek was no longer inside.

Or they would give up and leave right now, walk out of the shop

empty-handed, just to see Derek slinking away.

He picked up the pace, heading down one of the alleys behind the  street just to keep himself from being easily seen.

The first place he thought to go was home, but then he stopped,  frozen in place.

His bag. His fucking messenger bag with his cell and wallet and  everything else he used during the day, it was still inside the shop.  Those guys were going to find it for sure. There was no way they  were going to mistake it for a piece of merchandise. They were going  to find it, open it up, find all his identification, and then they would  know where he lived.

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Derek slammed the side of his fist down on the brick wall behind

him. It hurt, but he did it again. What was he going to do? What the

hell was he supposed to do now?

“Hello?”

Derek jumped. There, just down at the other end of the alley, was another shadowy man. This was different from those three guys Derek had just escaped from, but that didn’t mean they weren’t all working together or something, and that didn’t stop Derek from bolting in the other direction.

Right into the arms of another huge guy.

He flailed, brought his fist up, and caught the guy in the cheek before his wrists were grabbed in a surprisingly strong pair of hands.  He wanted to elbow the guy, but he couldn’t, and when that huge hand went  over his mouth, he really started to kick and buckle.

This man was strong, though, and even though the other guy came to hold down Derek’s legs, Derek got the feeling that his attacks weren’t really doing anything to the man holding him.

Warm breath wafted over his ear. “It’s me, you idiot.”

Mason’s growling voice was just the thing Derek needed to stop.  Had it been anyone else, he would’ve kept on fighting until the death.

“Let him go, James. I got him,” Mason said, and the other man in the alley with them released his feet. Mason then put Derek back on the ground, releasing him.

Derek spun around. “Some guys just tried to kill me. They know about you.”

“Yeah, I figured from the panic in your scent that you weren’t just out for a stroll.” Mason put his arm  around Derek’s shoulder and led him down the alley. “Come with me. I’ll take you home. You’ll need to lie low for a bit until―”

“I can’t go home,” Derek said.

“You have to. It’s the only―”

“No, you don’t get it. All my ID is back at the shop. There’s no

way they won’t find it and figure out where I live. Those guys are

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going to come for me. We need to call the cops,” Derek added, almost  as an afterthought. Not that it would’ve mattered, considering he had  no phone on him, but why it hadn’t occurred to him to contact the  police before was something he didn’t quite understand.

“We can’t do that. Not with hunters . The police won’t have

anything on them.”

“Except breaking and entering and trying to kill me!”

“Shh!” James snapped.

Derek couldn’t believe he was being so stupid when they needed  to be quiet. “I’m making sure those fucks get put away as long as  possible for this.”

Mason lifted a brow at him. “Did they break in?”

“They―” Derek stopped. That was right. Derek had opened the  door and let them in. “They still attacked me.”

“And you’ve apparently killed one of them,” said James.

Derek couldn’t have been more stunned in all his life. “What? No

I didn’t.”

“I’m scenting blood and death coming from your store,” James  said, looking down at him curiously. Then his nostrils flared as he  sniffed again. “Do you have a weapon on you?”

Derek wanted to groan. He pulled out the Glock to show them. “I  do, but there’s nothing in the magazine. See?”

He pulled back the slider and showed them. “The clip is in my  pocket. I didn’t even get this gun until I got out of there. I didn’t shoot  anyone.”

“We heard a gunshot,” Mason said,  also looking down at Derek.  “You sure you didn’t do anything by accident?”

Derek opened his mouth to reply again then shut it as he  remembered the way he’d pushed away the gun the old man was  holding and then shoved him.

He only saw that one man, Billy, chasing after him when he  turned around, not the other two, and that older man had been crying  pretty loudly.

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Derek paled as the thought came to him that he might’ve accidentally killed someone. “It was self-defense. They were pointing a gun at me,” he said.

Mason gripped him by the shoulders. “And I’m glad you did everything you were supposed to, to get out of there. Believe me, but there is a dead man in there and way too much shit going on with those hunters for the police to come now.”

Mason then looked up at the other man. “James?”

It took a second before it clicked with Derek. James? As in

Mason’s brother James?

“He’ll have to come with us at this point. You’ll be the one to

watch over him.”

Mason nodded. “Got it. Come on, Derek.”

Mason put his arm back  around Derek’s shoulder and began leading him away, like he was a helpless invalid or something.

Derek didn’t mind. His brain was having some off time anyway.  He could hardly think about where they were going.

He did know that, when they got there, it would be the first time in his life that he’d ever stepped foot inside of DeWitt’s pack.

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Chapter Four

Tom held onto his son and cried when Alan’s mouth opened and closed like a suffocating fish. His boy was trying to say something to his old man, but he  couldn’t speak because of all the blood that was getting into his lungs, drowning him from the inside.

“I’m here. Alan, your dad’s here,” he said, his eyes blurring as  Alan’s twitching got to be weaker and weaker.

Then he was gone.

Tom stroked his boy’s hair, rocked him, and wailed. He could still hear the banging and screaming coming from the back as Billy fought to open the door that―

Tom’s rage suddenly spiked. Everything in the shop, every image, every scent, became sharp and crystal clear.

He put his boy down on the floor, closed his eyes, and then went to find Billy.

The stupid idiot was still banging against the metal door with a stool, not so much as making a dent in it, favoring one hand, and screaming through the door.

“I’m gonna get you, you fucking shit-faced coward!” He hurled the wooden stool at the door, shattering it. “Get out here, now!”

His hand looked fucked up and mangled. Tom was going to have to see to that.

He came up behind Billy and put his hand on the other man’s shoulder. Billy practically jumped out of his skin.

“We need to go,” he said.

Billy’s eyes went as wide as golf balls. “That piece of shit! Look what he did to my hand! I’m going to kill him!”

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No, Tom was going to kill him. “We will, but we need to leave right now. There was too much noise, and someone might be on their way. We can’t be seen here.”

Though the town sat on the highway, the houses where the inhabitants of the town lived were all scattered around. The likelihood

of someone being out here this late, hearing them, was slim, but Tom

didn’t want to risk it.

He didn’t want to be seen in the next half hour either.

“We’ll get him,” Tom said. “He’s stuck in there, so we’ll get

him.”

Tom led Billy back to the front of the store. Once the adrenaline wore out, the stupid kid held his injured hand and started sniffling at the pain.

He had no idea what pain was.

Tom picked up the body of his son and brought him outside to their van.

“We’re taking him with us?” Billy asked.

Tom glared at him, and for a minute he considered shooting him,  too. Billy swallowed and took a step back, and Tom decided he would  keep him around for a little while longer, if only to have the extra  hand to help him.

There were gas canisters in the back of the van. Tom picked up  one and gave the other to Billy. The kid had trouble opening it with  one hand, but that wasn’t Tom’s problem. They sprayed the floors  inside and the walls outside with the fuel. Then they put the red  canisters back into the van, took a step back, and Tom lit a match.

He would prefer to watch that goddamn prick burn as he sent him  to hell, but this would have to do. Revenge could not always be short  and sweet. Sometimes it had to be quick to suit the situation.

The fire burned hot for only a minute before the alarm inside went  off. The sprinklers came on, but they were hardly a match for a gas  fire.

If anything, maybe that guy in the back would die from inhaling

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the smoke fumes that were suddenly building up. Heavy black clouds  billowed up and out of the store, rising into the night sky.

“Let’s go, before the fire trucks get here,” Tom said.

Billy obediently followed.

“What are we going to do now?” he asked when the burning store  was just a vanishing image in the rearview mirror.

It occurred to Tom that this was the first time someone other than

Alan sat in the passenger seat beside him. He was pretty sure he didn’t like that.

He looked at the way the kid was still clutching his hand and decided to show some mercy. “We’ll take care of your fingers first.  Set them and cast them. Then we bury my son. Then we find the pack that wolf came from, and we skin every single one of them alive.”

* * * *

Mason could hardly believe his eyes the first time he saw his brother again after ten years apart. The man had massive scars on his face and neck, apparently from being shot  in the chest with a shotgun loaded with silver pellets.

Mason wasn’t going to have that problem. For one, he hadn’t been hit with as many pellets as James had, and they weren’t silver. His wounds still itched from where Old Maggie had picked the little metal pellets out with a pair of tweezers, but they would eventually heal.

Right now his face was still scabbing up. He hardly looked good enough to go and see Derek. The man had no choice but to stay with them until these new hunters could be dealt with. Mason was just glad

James decided to let them stay.

“Thanks again for all this.”

“For the last time, you’re my brother. You don’t have to thank me for wanting you here.”

“I’m no longer part of your pack though. You didn’t have to take on my problems.” Problems that only existed because he’d come

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back.

After James had come in to see him and the shock on both of their

faces had worn off, Mason had to explain why he was injured and  who he had seen first before coming here.

James had suggested they go back to the  pawn shop, if only to  make sure the hunters hadn’t backtracked to where Mason had been