Gwen looks stunned at his revelation. “Really?” He nods. “Thanks.”
“Anytime,” he replies.
The ride back to the compound is done in silence. Gwen stares out the window, chewing on her bottom lip. When we come to a stop, and I turn off the engine, Gwen reaches over and touches my arm.
“How was I supposed to handle it?”
“You should have told him you were there with me, and he would have backed off.”
Feral is walking across the compound, head bowed, putting one foot in front of the other, not paying attention to those around him. “See him? That’s Feral. He’s scary as fuck to most of the females. About this time, he goes to a bar down by the beach. Get Justice to take you. See how you go up against a real animal.”
ChapterEight
GWEN
The dive bar looms ahead, a neon sign flickering like a beacon of bad decisions. It’s the kind of place nice girls don’t visit. I kill the engine and slide out of the truck. A Harley pulls up beside me, and it is Justice.
“Watch yourself,” Justice warns, eyes scanning for trouble.
“Always do,” I shoot back with a wink. I’m nervous, sure. But I can’t let that show.
The door groans, protesting my entrance. Inside, it’s a haze of cigarette smoke and desperation. I spot Feral immediately and stroll over to stand near him.
“Hey, doll.” He leers, his gaze crawling over me.
I resist the urge to scrub at my skin.
“You’re Feral?” I slide onto the stool beside him. “I need info.”
He chuckles like I’ve told a good joke and takes a swig of his beer. “And what’s in it for me?”
“Knowing you helped keep your ass safe,” I retort.
His eyes narrow as if he’s considering, weighing his sleazy desires against self-preservation.
“Fine. What do you wanna know?” He leans in, his breath reeking of alcohol and neglect.
“Who ordered the hit on your brothers?”
Feral runs a hand through greasy locks, thinking. “That’s the million-dollar question.”
“Do you know?” I press, my voice low, urgent.
“Maybe.” He grins, a smile full of malice and bad intentions. “Could be for a little somethin’ somethin’, I might get talkative.”
“Thanks, Feral,” I say, sliding off the stool. “But I’m not interested in that with you.” His hand snakes out, catching mywrist.
“Be careful, Gwen,” he says, and there’s a glimmer of something almost like concern in his bloodshot eyes.
“Always am,” I reply, yanking free.
He laughs, and I tilt my head to the side. “How do you know my name?”
Winchester comes out of the shadows. “You blew it, Feral.”
“Shit. Sorry, man.” Feral dips his chin and walks away from us.
“This was another test?”
