“The fuck do you want?” he snarled, glaring at them. “Get off my property before I fucking shoot you!”
“We’ll leave as soon as you sign these papers.” Baird showed him the sheaf of divorce papers. “Your mate wants to be legally free of you and I can’t say that I blame her,” he added.
“You son-of-a-bitch!” Hank Rogan snarled. “You alien fucks can’t come down here and make me sign anything!” He started to slam the door in their faces but Baird got a knee and an elbow in before he could manage it.
“Want to bet?” he growled. “You’re signing whether you want to or not, you abusive asshole.”
He forced the door open easily, despite the human’s attempt to keep it closed. Hank Rogan was puffing and blowing, sweat rolling down his face when he finally gave up and retreated into the house, letting the door swing open.
He returned shortly, however, holding a projectile weapon with a long metal barrel in his hands. Yup, that was a shotgun, all right, Baird thought without surprise. The angry human male pointed his weapon at Baird and Talon, a grimace of pure hate on his red, sweating face.
“I know you,” he snapped at Talon, who had yet to say a word. “You’re the alien fucker who stole my wife in the first place. You better bring her back or you’re getting a belly full of lead, boy!”
“Go on and shoot,” Baird said blandly. “But you should know that we’re wearing shielding that will repel the bullet directly back at the shooter at the exact same speed and with the exact same force that it was fired.”
This made Hank Rogan pause with his finger on the trigger.
“You’re lying,” he said, but there wasn’t much certainty in his voice.
“Shoot and find out,” Baird offered. He spread his hands wide, the sheaf of divorce papers rustling with the movement. “Go ahead, do it. I’m, sure the female you abused would be just as happy to be a widow as your ex-mate.”
Rogan sneered.
“I don’t believe you,” he said, but made no move to fire.
“I don’t care if you do or not,” Baird told him. “But believe this, human—you’re signing these papers or you’re going to be damn sorry.”
Hank Rogan glared at them for a long moment. Slowly, he lowered his shotgun and propped it against the wall behind him. Baird was just thinking that maybe he would cooperate after all, when he suddenly pulled another firearm from his belt. With an evil grin, he pointed it right at Baird’s chest and pulled the trigger.
There was a deafening sound—human weapons were always so loud, Baird thought, wincing. Then the bullet hit his invi-shield and was redirected right back at the man who had shot it.
It pierced Hank Rogan’s right bicep, going all the way through, and then buried itself on the wall behind him.
Hank gasped, his gun drooping to his side as he clutched the bleeding arm.
“You shot me!” he shouted, glaring at Baird and Talon. “You alien motherfuckers shot me! Just wait—I’m gonna prosecute. Oh hell yes I am! I’m a Sheriff of the Law and you came to my own house and shot me!”
“Actually, you shot yourself,” Baird said blandly. “When the human authorities dig the bullet out of your wall, they’ll find that it came from your own gun and the only prints on it are yours. So you have no case to prosecute. Now come on—let’s get these papers signed.”
Pushing his way into the house, he grabbed the wounded human by the arm and marched him into another area where he could see a table. That would do fine.
Shoving Hank to the table, he slapped down the sheaf of documents and nodded at Talon, who produced a writing instrument.
Hank tried to turn and lift his gun again, but Baird knocked it out of his hand.
“Sign,” he said, grabbing the human male by the back of the neck and forcing his face down towards the papers. “But first I want you to read it. It says your wife is divorcing you for long-term physical, mental, and emotional abuse.”
“It’s a lie—all a lie!” Hank Rogan sputtered. “I won’t sign a lie.”
“Talon?” Baird nodded and the other Kindred grabbed the human male’s hand and put the pen in it. Then he forced his bleeding arm to the papers.
“I saw you hurting her myself,” he said, as he made the human sign his signature. “Did you know you hit her so hard you broke her eye socket?”
“My mate spent hours in surgery with another doctor making sure she wouldn’t lose her vision because of your viciousness,” Baird added. “You ought to be fucking ashamed of yourself but you won’t be—your kind never is. Fucking human males.” He shook his head in disgust.
“Anything I dished out to that little bitch, she asked for,” Hank whined, even as he reluctantly signed his name. “Females have to be punished! If you don’t keep them in line and hit them once in a while, they’ll do whatever they want!”