Page 52 of Nest of Thieves
“Should be?” I ask, watching him verify the gun is loaded.
Mac winks at me and opens his door, climbing out and turning around to stare at me. “You can come, if you want.”
I glance at Lark.
He shrugs. “This meeting won’t get you any closer to figuring out who our boss is.”
“Fine. I’ll come.”
“Eventually,” Lark whispers so softly I do a double take. He’s getting out of the vehicle, leaving me to wonder if I imagined what he said.
I join them at the front of the truck. Pony’s beady gaze traces over me as he props his hip against the grill of Mac’s Raptor.
“Who’s the bitch?” He rubs his hands together, the sleeve of his windbreaker pulling back to reveal a B on his wrist.
“Excuse me?” I ask.
Pony sneers at me. “She’s a pretty little slut. You both hitting that?”
This beta is a dick. Before I can even sayfuck you, Lark grabs him by the back of the head and smashes his face into the hood of the truck. Mac grabs Pony as he falls and pins him in place, digging the gun into his chin.
“Pony,” he whispers but, somehow, that’s more menacing than if he were to yell. “You always have to say some stupid shit, don’t you?”
Pony snickers. “You’re going to blow my head off for her? She must take dick like a cham—”
Mac slaps Pony across the face with the gun, cutting off the last of his insult. Blood pours from a small cut, and Pony’s head lolls to the side for a second. When he recovers, Pony shifts and peers up at the alpha.
Lark drops his arm on the hood next to where Mac holds Pony. “I thought you’d shut up after I smashed your face into the hood, but you always were a slow learner.”
“Screw you.” Pony’s words come out in a pained groan. His forehead is bright red and will surely be bruised come tomorrow morning. Bruises are already coloring his forehead and cheek dark purple.
“Pony.” Lark sighs. “There’s only so much I can do to stop Mac, and frankly, I don’t have enough fucks to give to worry about saving your life. You’re already on half a dozen shit lists. The only reason you’re still alive is because Poison vouched for you.”
Pony glowers at the alphas.
Mac smirks and cuts his gaze in my direction, pressing the barrel of the gun to the underside of Pony’s jaw once more. “Go on.Apologize.”
I gape at the two of them. I’m nothing to them. Why would they care what this douche says to me? Never mind that I like how much they’re defending me. It’s cute they think I’m so delicate.
“I’m sorry,” Pony rasps.
Mac and Lark stare at me.
“It’s fine,” I say through gritted teeth. “Insults from men with tiny cocks don’t bother me.”
If looks could kill, I’d be Pony’s first target. Mac pats the man’s cheek and shoves away, holding the gun at his side. Lark remains leaning against the grill. He rubs his jaw and studies Pony.
“You have five minutes to tell us what we want to know.”
Pony spits out blood, bending over a little, sucking in a sharp breath. “Fuck.”
“Tick-tock,” Mac sing-songs.
“The truck arrives at eleven tonight. There are fifteen bodies, seven under twelve. Two drivers, one warehouse guard, and five cameras.” Pony grunts when he straightens, using the collar of his jacket to clean the blood on his face.
The good thing about windbreakers? They don’t stain easily. At least he doesn’t have to worry about ruining his 1990 Solo-cup-style outfit.
“Do you have proof?” Lark asks. “You know we don’t operate off word alone.”
