Jacks, Marcy - Mason Returns to His Mate [DeWitt's Pack 8] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic Man Marcy Jacks (ready to read books txt) 📖

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.

36                          Marcy Jacks

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!”

Mason Returns to His Mate                    37

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

38                          Marcy Jacks

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