“He’s right. That guy is seriously whacked,” Gina agreed with Nick. “He has to be stopped. I honestly don’t know what he would have done to me after he killed you. I don’t want to live in fear of this guy and his goons for the rest of my life.”
“You won’t have to. One way or the other, he’s going down. Isn’t that right, Sheriff?” Nick turned to face Cole.
“Damn right. I will not allow this sort of shit in my town.”
ChapterTwenty-Two
“Hurry up, Mule. Light the damn fuse,” Gavin scolded. He should have brought his own damn lighter instead of relying on Mule for anything. It wasn’t that Mule didn’t listen to him. The problem was that Mule could fuck up even the simplest of basic tasks with zero effort.
“I’m trying, boss. The wind keeps blowing my lighter out.” Mule flicked the generic yellow lighter three more times while cupping a hand around the sides to block the wind.
“Here, give me the damn thing.” Gavin yanked the lighter out of Mule’s hand and flicked the tiny metal wheel. The old rag that had been stuffed in the glass bottle lit instantly on the first try.
He quickly pulled his arm back before heaving the homemade Molotov cocktail toward Wicked Brew Café. He had anticipated the glass bottle breaking the picture window in the front of the café and it shattering into million pieces. The fuel would quickly spread and catch fire. They’d gleefully watch as the café burned to the ground, but that didn’t happen.
Instead, the Molotov cocktail bounced off the glass and back toward Romey, one of his lackeys.
“Watch it, Romey!” Mule shouted.
“What?” Romey looked up from his phone at the last second. Thanks to his slower-than-snail reflexes, the Molotov cocktail crashed into his chest, lighting his clothes on fire. His phone flew from his hand. He flapped his arms like a chicken on crack being chased by a fox around a hen house.
“Stop, drop, and roll,” Mule shouted at the man.
Being dumber than a box of rocks didn’t help Romey in the slightest, as he had no idea what that phrase even meant. Thankfully for Romey, Mule knocked him down and beat him with his jacket, putting the fire out.
Gavin grabbed another glass bottle and lit it before firing it toward the café. Much like the first, this one bounced back as well. Though, this time, the fiery ball headed in his direction. Unlike Romey, Gavin quickly jumped out of the way to avoid being hit.
“Fuck! I should have known. They have the café under a protection spell! None of the Molotov cocktails are getting through their magic barrier.”
“What the hell?” Mule shouted. He had the good graces to appear just as mad and frustrated as Gavin.
“Fucking witches! Let’s go. This place is protected. We’re just wasting our damn time.” Gavin was more pissed than before. The witches had inadvertently spoiled his plan before he even had a chance to enact his form of vengeance on them. He’d have to come up with something different, something epic, to show them he wasn’t one to be messed with.
“What about the hotel? Are we still gonna burn that bitch to the ground?” Romey asked.
“Damn right, we are,” Gavin replied, throwing one leg over his motorcycle. “Let’s go. We’ve got ourselves a bear to fry.”
* * *
Makayla yawned.It had been a long-ass day, and she was dead tired, wanting nothing more than to crawl into her bed and call it a night. But she still had three hours until the nighttime front desk clerk clocked in.
“Ugh!” she yawned again, needing to find something to keep her ass awake for a few more hours.
She was watching the security cameras when she noticed a group of men on bikes pull into the parking lot. They circled around the few cars parked near the front entrance before coming to a stop.
“Awesome. If they want a room, I’m going to have to douse them in Lysol first, by the looks of them.” Even through the grainy footage, she could see how disgusting they looked. She watched as they got off their bikes and began pulling small bottles out of their saddle bags. Once she saw the material dangling out of the bottles, Makayla bolted into action. She grabbed her shotgun from under the counter and made a beeline through the front door and out to where the men stood, getting ready to firebomb her hotel.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” she called out, leveling her shotgun in the direction of the men. Makayla wasn’t afraid to shoot. Especially after she got a whiff of them and realized they were nothing more than a bunch of shady-ass bear shifters. She knew Nick was a bear shifter, but he was nothing like these pieces of shit.
Though Nick had kept his secret from her, she knew what he was the second he walked through her door. She didn’t have a problem with paranormals or shifters. She had magic of her own that very few people knew about. What she had a problem with was these stupid motherfuckers who thought they had authority over everyone because they got their feelings hurt and their faces smashed in by Nick.
Oh yeah, she had watched the footage and laughed when she saw it. Served them right. She knew Nick was a good guy from the get-go. Seeing him lay these dudes out in the bar had only confirmed what she already knew. He was a good man for not submitting to the likes of these assholes.
“Stay outta this, bitch,” one of the men shouted back at her.
She rolled her eyes. Ohhh, he broke out the wordbitch. He was so damn scary. “Fuck you. This is my hotel, and if you don’t get your grimy asses off of my property, there’s going to be hell to pay,” she said, cocking the gun and aiming it for the face of the man who called her a bitch.
“Looky here, bitch.” Mule strolled closer to her.