Page 8 of Blood Owed (Blood Mafia 1)
“Deal,” he says too quickly. “The money will be wired tonight.”
I should have asked for more. Oh well. I slap my hand into his, and we shake.
“Three weeks.”
“Do I look stupid to you, Blaze?”
The alpha shakes his head, still not daring to meet my gaze.
“You’ll have your dead alpha and human soon enough. I expect you to leave San Francisco tonight.”
He growls low in his chest.
“This is my city. Don’t forget like Richard. I own these streets.” I don’t threaten him outright, but I will kill this alpha if he doesn’t leave. The stronger the wolf presence in San Francisco, the stronger their attempts grow to take what is mine.
Blaze doesn’t answer me. Instead, he shifts into his wolf form, growls menacingly at me and takes off in the opposite direction.
I smirk after him. “Run, little wolf, before the big bad one comes to eat you.”
Time to catch a human and kill an alpha.
All in a day’s work, I guess.
Chapter Three
Demi
Peeking out of my blinds for the fifth time in the last hour, I check for cops. Seeing as the men I happened upon last night were tangled up in some sort of mafia drama, I doubt they called the cops. That doesn’t mean the club owner didn’t. There’s probably footage of me jamming the knife inside the wolf. If the authorities get ahold of that, they can use facial recognition software or some sort of voodoo magic to find me.
I do not want to go to jail.
Killing the wolf was self-defense; I can’t be charged. Or at least, I don’t think so. I haven’t worked up the nerve to call Lexi. She’s in her second year of law school and she’d know the answer.
“Demi.” Lexi knocks on my door before calling my name again. “Demi, open up.”
I squint toward the door, wondering how she’d known I needed her help. Her intuition isn’t the greatest.
She’s not going to call the cops on you. She doesn’t even know you killed a supe.
Shaking off my suspicion, I let her in.
A wide smile is plastered on her face, and she looks me over, her lips turning into a frown. She waves her hand in front of my body. “This is not the face of someone who got laid. If you didn’t leave with a hottie, where’d you go?”
I catch the phone she tosses at me. “Thanks,” I say for the phone and pull her inside.
“I was going to come in, sheesh.” She brushes her honey blonde hair over her shoulder and lifts an eyebrow. “Why’d you leave me?”
Deciding not to tell Lexi about the fight and my subsequent murdering of a wolf has nothing to do with trust—I trust her implicitly—it has more to do with me not feeling an ounce of remorse for killing someone. I know it was self-defense, but normal people feel more shaken up.
They cry.
I didn’t cry when I climbed up the fire escape and slipped through my living room window.
Confession time? I laughed.
Last night I fell onto the couch and burst into a fit of giggles until my stomach hurt and I realized I was caked in blood, then I got up to take a shower.
I even had the drycleaners come pick up the leather dress (after I wiped it down) to clean it.
