Page 53 of Nest of Thieves
“Of course, I have proof. It’s in the car.” Pony slides his gaze to me and glares.
I return the look with a scathingI will castrate youstare.
“Three minutes. Go get the paperwork.” Mac hums theJeopardytheme song under his breath, fingers itching toward the trigger.
Would he shoot him for taking too long?
For Pony’s sake, I hope he hurries the fuck up.
Stumbling toward his car, Pony reaches through the window and grabs a folder. He returns to us with a little more confidence and sure-footing. Some of that arrogance from when we first arrived reappears.
“Here’s your proof. Now, where’s my money?”
Lark tsks. “Your money?”
“Mine, Poison’s. You know what I mean.”
Grabbing his wallet, Lark grabs a fat stack of one-hundred-dollar bills and hands it to Pony. “Count it.”
“I trust you—”
“Count it,” Lark demands.
Pony ducks his head and starts flicking through the cash. I count with him. Two thousand dollars.
“Two grand.”
“It’s been a displeasure,” Mac says, walking toward the driver’s side of the Raptor.
Pony takes two quick steps back as he passes. Mine and Mac’s lips curl in response, and the alpha meets my eyes with his glittering gaze. Pony attempts to recover and swagger away like a boss, but his pace is too clipped. His shoulders are too hunched. Pony’s afraid.
“Come on, Kitten. I want some ice cream.”
“Oh yeah, I always want dessert after pistol whipping someone,” I say softly enough only Lark can hear me.
Lark chuckles and smacks the top of the hood. “Something sweet to make up for the sour moment. You’ll love Reggie’s Parlor.”
“I’m not entirely sure what to think about everything that just happened. Are you guys buying dead bodies?”
Eyes rounding in horror, Lark recoils. “No. You think we’d do that?”
“Maybe,” I say, even though my gut reaction is a definitiveno.
Mac rolls his window down. “I’m getting hangry, and Pony still hasn’t left. His death is on you two if you make me wait much longer.”
Pony squeaks and his car door slams shut, the tires squealing across the pavement as he makes a quick escape.
“Chill, Mac,” Lark shouts. Tipping his chin in the direction of my seat, he rounds the truck and gets in the back. I climb inside in time to hear Lark say, “He’s going to tell Poison.”
“Poison doesn’t give a shit about Pony. The only reason that creep is still around is because Poison made a promise to Pony’s mom. She’d probably be happy if we took care of that problem.”
“That may be so, but do you really want to test that theory?”
Mac reaches across my lap to put the gun back, purposefully rubbing his arm over my legs. “Maybe not today. Did he hurt your feelings?” he asks me as he starts the Raptor.
“Of course not. You guys didn’t need to defend my honor.”
Mac shifts gears. “We did. No one fucks with our pack.”
