Page 5 of Pack Rivals: Part Two
I slam my fist on the horn and yell a string of abuse at the car meandering along in front of me. The grandad driving seems to be incapable of finding the accelerator. As soon as I can, I swerve into the oncoming traffic and overtake the stupid fucker, giving him the finger and a murderous glare as I do.
Every fucking minute is precious. Every second wasted a fucking failure.
“Call Nate,” I tell the car’s interior computer system.
“Calling Nate,” the computer tells me and, for the tenth time already, I hear the call connect straight through to voicemail.
I’m going to smack him around the head for that.
Usually, I have unending amounts of patience for my packmate. Today, I have none.
I skid to a screeching halt outsideNanny Moo’s most marvelous ice cream parlorand leap out, sprinting towards the brightly painted diner. The colors are hideous enough to give me a fucking migraine and the big cartoon cow dressed in a bonnet and frilly dress, a collection of farmyard friends gathered round her legs, has always creeped me the fuck out. It’s the smile and the big teeth.
I have no fucking idea why Nate likes this place so much.
I slam open the door, some ditzy tune playing as I step through into the parlor, so fucking pink it looks like a candy floss exploded in here. The place is choc-a-block with children and their parents tucking into tall glasses of ice cream sundaes. Scores of tiny voices squeak and squeal and I flinch, scanning the place for Nate.
Immediately, I spot where he’s lurking. That’s because there’s a ring of empty tables around him, everyone keeping the fuck out of the scary-looking man’s way.
He’s dressed all in black like he’s auditioning for the part of Lucifer, and he’s leaning back in his chair, his boots resting on the table top. Red liquid, I hope the kids mistake for ketchup, oozes down the leather and a large mountain of ice cream sits in front of him. It’s untouched and melting as Nate stares at the ceiling.
I walk towards him, aware of the way parents wrap a protective arm around their kids and nervous eyes flick between us.
I don’t give a fuck what these people think of us.
There’s only one thing I give a fuck about right now.
“Nate,” I bark, and his eyes drag away from the fan rotating above his head and meander towards me. They are brimming with anger and hurt, rejection and guilt.
Nate’s always been good at putting on an act, hiding all that vulnerable shit that lurks deep inside him. At Nanny fucking Moo’s, it always comes flooding to the surface.
It’s like this place is both his kryptonite and his salvation.
“If you’ve come to drag me away, Connor, I’m–”
Usually, I’d flop down into the seat beside him, tug that ice cream towards me and gently, gently, nudge him towards home.
I haven’t got time for all that mollycoddling shit today.
Bea is missing and the sooner we find her, the better.
“Nate,” I cut through his words, “Nate, listen to me, man.” He can hear the seriousness in my tone and he lifts his eyebrows. “Bea’s gone.”
He hammers his fist down on the spoon in front of him, making it leap into the air and a woman sitting a few tables away yelps.
“I know she is, Connor.”
“No.” I shake my head firmly, making it clear that’s not it. “She’s missing.” Nate cocks his head, the tendons in his neck popping out like steel wires. “Someone’s taken her.”
He swings his feet off the table and they meet the ground with a thump. The lady yelps a second time.
“Is this some kind of fucked up way you and Axel have–”
I glare at him, leaning down on the table, my eyes flaring with anger. “You think I’d kid around about something like this, Nate?”
He flicks his tongue against the ring in his lip, studying my face.
“Shit,” he mutters. “Shit.”
