Grin and Bear It Read online

  Another second passed, and Odin, Lucas, Cain, Nico, and even Dakota came out of the bar. Hell, he even saw Ben, who was in school to become a doctor, follow behind. It seemed all of the next generation guys were here to make this happen, to have Mason’s back.

  They didn’t look at the guys, didn’t have their cuts on, either. It was clear the human bastards hadn’t realized who had been drinking a few feet from them, shrouded in the shadows.

  Good.

  And then Mason was pulling onto the road, following the truck, and keeping a good distance behind. His attention was trained, focused, his bear right there, but Mason’s human side was not about to give this up. He wasn’t going to let the animal take care of this. Mason needed to slam his fist into flesh, needed to see the pain that crossed over all of their faces. He needed to do this and really feel the pleasure of finishing this.

  About twenty minutes later the truck was pulling into an older, rundown one-story house. Mason pulled the SUV to a stop across the street, cut the engines and lights, and stared at the other vehicle. The guys climbed out, their voices still loud, their movements sloppy from being drunk.

  “This might be too easy,” Jakob said. “They’re drunker than piss.”

  Yeah, they were. Mason had watched the entire trip as they swerved, the truck moving into the next lane before swerving back.

  “I don’t care. This ends tonight.” Mason took his keys out of the ignition, looked in his rearview mirror, and saw the other SUV and the Mustang that held the other Patches were close behind him.

  The humans walked into the house, and a second later the lights went on.

  “It’s just the three of them,” Bodhi said.

  It wouldn’t have mattered if the house were full of humans. Mason would have taken them all out.

  “Let’s do this.” Mason shoved his keys in his pocket, got out of the vehicle, and a second later he heard car doors opening and closing as the rest of the club followed. He felt them, sensed their bears. He stopped when he was only a foot from the front door, heard the loud music that came from the house, and turned to see all the guys standing there, waiting.

  “How do you want to do this?” Cain, Jagger’s youngest son, asked.

  “Everyone stay out here. I can handle this.” He knew they wanted to show their support, have his back, but Mason needed to do this by himself.

  “I’m going in with you.” Jakob was the one to speak, and Mason faced the other male. “You can bitch about it all you want, but I’m going in with you.”

  It took a moment for Mason to accept it, because he knew Jakob wouldn’t give up. He was just as stubborn as any Grizzly.

  Mason nodded once, glanced around the low-income neighborhood, realizing that most of the lights were off, and that they probably would not have any trouble with the cops. Neighborhoods like these tended to shy away from calling authorities if shit went down, and that would work to his benefit.

  He turned and faced the door again, and with one brutal kick with his foot to the scarred wood, he busted the door open.

  The guys were sitting on the couch, the coffee table in front of them having a baggie of pot, a mirror between them, and lines of coke covering the glass. The one in the center, the one Mason remembered was named Beau from when they’d crashed the Grizzly party, looked up. He held up a rolled up dollar bill, and his eyes widened for a second before he took them in. His gaze went back to Mason, and he snarled.

  “What the fuck?” Beau said, his words slurring. “Well, look who it is.” He set the dollar bill down and rose. The other two did the same. “Thought we killed your ass.”

  The other two guys started laughing.

  “That’s what we were going for anyway.” Beau leaned down and snorted a line off the glass.

  It was just Mason and Jakob in the house, with the other Patches waiting outside. They’d come in if there were problems, but that was almost laughable. The only “problems” there would be was these three motherfuckers hitting the floor.

  Mason could have prolonged this, but standing so close to them, remembering what they’d done, had his beast rising up. He just reacted with a mighty roar. Mason charged forward, slammed his body into the guy that was on the far left, throwing out punches, feeling his bear right there. His claws started to emerge, but he pushed the animal back. This would be a human fight.

  One of the guys tried to pull Mason back, but with a swing of his arm, his strength ten times as strong as these assholes, even in his human form, he was able to have the guy flying through the room and hitting the opposite wall. They fell to the floor, Mason on top, his teeth bared, his anger fierce. He slammed his fist into the human’s face, over and over again until blood covered his knuckles, splashed on his shirt, and bone crunched from the human’s nose breaking.

  He sensed Jakob close, ready to fight, but standing back and giving Mason time to deal with this in his own way.

  Climbing off the unconscious human, Mason would figure out what to do with him after he took out the other two. His chest heaved as he turned around and stared at the other males. The one he’d knocked against the wall was standing, his eyes wide as he looked at his buddy on the floor.

  “This is fucked up,” he said to himself and looked at Mason. He held his hands up. “I’m not involved. It was him.” He pointed to the one named Beau. “It was his idea, him driving and pulling the trigger.”

  “You coward,” Beau spit out.

  Mason shook his head. “You were there, so you get this, too.”

  The guy shook his head fast.

  “Shit, Mason,” Jakob said, disgust in his voice. “The punk’s pissing himself.”

  Mason looked at the human that was now apologizing over and over again, telling him he didn’t want this, that none of this was his fault. The puddle of piss was growing around his feet, his jeans soaked from his fear.

  “Take it like a man, you motherfucker,” Mason said on a growl.

  “I’m sorry,” the human was stuttering out.

  Mason was on him in the next second, grabbing him around the neck and throwing him up against the wall hard enough his head cracked on it and he passed out. He was alive, for the time being.

  And then it was just Mason and Beau, the clear leader of this trio of pussy ass human bitches.

  “You were following me, weren’t you?” Mason asked, cracked his knuckles, and rolled his head around on his neck. “That’s how you knew where I was, when I was alone and on my bike.” Mason thought about that day that he was shot at and run over. He was damn lucky to be alive.

  Beau didn’t answer, but he did smirk. The drugs were clearly making him have bigger balls than he really did.

  “You came after my club, came after me.” Mason took a step closer. He had to give it to the human, he had balls of steel for not backing away. The scent of his apprehension was in the air, but he was not afraid. Maybe he was too drunk and high to realize that this wasn’t going to go well for him? It didn’t matter though, because he’d find out soon enough.

  Mason felt primal right now, animalistic, and ready to tear this asshole apart, ready to put this behind him so it wasn’t consuming every part of him anymore.

  The sound of boots crunching behind him, and the smell of the rest of the club coming into the house, came through to Mason, but he didn’t stop looking at Beau.

  “Maybe I did, and maybe I didn’t. What the fuck does it matter anyway?”

  “You’re from River Run, yet you act like you don’t know who the fuck you’re dealing with.”

  Beau shrugged again. “I’m not even originally from this shitty town.” Beau started laughing. “I didn’t know shit about you or your little Boy Scout crew until after that night I saw you guys partying.” Beau looked at the Patches behind Mason. “Kind of outnumbering me,” Beau snarled.

  Mason grinned. “No, this is just you and me, motherfucker. These boys just want to watch.” He saw Beau swallow, smelled the spike in the air from his fear, the fact he
was getting smart and realizing his cocky attitude and trying to act tough wouldn’t end well.

  “But I did find out who the fuck you were after the fact, and it was easy as shit to follow you. Just knowing you thought you ran this town pissed me off on top of that back talking you did at the party. I’m glad you got fucked up.”

  Mason growled low.

  “I should have stayed behind and made sure your ass died, made sure you looked in my eyes and realized you fucked with the wrong person.”

  That had Mason sobering even harder, had his anger rising. “You don’t know who you fucked with.” The club owned this town, and anymore that fucked with them was as good as dead.

  He knew Beau was going to come after him, but Mason stood there, watching as he came forward, his face a mask of hatred, and swung out. Mason didn’t move. Beau’s knuckles connected with his jaw, and Mason didn’t make a sound as he felt his skin open up. He’d give the prick this one shot, but that was all he was getting.

  And when it was done Mason grabbed Beau around the neck, tightened his hold, and lifted him off the ground. He walked them until Beau’s body was pressed to the wall. For a second all Mason did was stare into Beau’s eyes, watch as capillaries burst, as the blood covered the whites.

  Beau gasped for air, struggled to breathe, to remove Mason’s hands from around his neck. But he was no match for Mason, and his struggling proved weak and fruitless.

  “I’ve been waiting all this time to come back here and finish this, to take out you and your little bastard friends. It’s all I’ve been thinking about.” Mason let him go, and Beau crumbled to the floor, gasping for air, staring up at Mason with white, red eyes. “I fantasized about coming here and tearing your throat out, making you suffer, making you cry and scream.”

  Mason turned and looked over his shoulder, saw all the guys watching, their faces showing nothing. They’d have his back no matter what, even if that meant standing there and watching this play out, ready to make a move if Mason needed it.

  “Fuck you,” Beau stuttered, rubbing his neck, his voice strained, but filled with anger.

  Mason smirked. “Fuck me?” He crouched on his haunches and reached behind him, grabbing the knife he had tugged at the small of his back. He showed Beau the blade, felt pleasure when his eyes widened further and he tried moving away. Yeah, the asshole knew what was coming. He had nowhere to go. Mason brought the blade to Beau’s neck, added pressure until blood welled up, but stopped before cutting into his jugular. “I could slit your throat right now, watch you bleed out on the floor and feel nothing over your death.” Beau gasped for air, but didn’t speak.

  “Then do it,” Beau wheezed out again.

  Mason looked at his face, brought the blade up, and ran it over his cheek. Beau hollered out in pain as the knife opened up the flesh on his face.

  “Does that hurt?” Mason asked in a stoic voice.

  “Fuck you.”

  Mason chuckled. “You keep saying that like it means anything.”

  “I’m not afraid of you,” Beau said and tried to stand, but Mason shook his head and Beau stilled.

  “The stench of your fear says differently, although I give you props for trying not to show it.” He didn’t move as he stared right into Beau’s eyes. Mason wanted to say fuck it and just gut this worthless piece of shit and be done with it, but the longer he looked at him the more he thought about Ryeissa, about going back to her and her knowing what he’d done.

  It would be a stain on him, a stain on what they could share together. He felt that all the way into his blackened soul.

  Mason didn’t follow anyone’s rules but his own, and it had always been like that. He didn’t want to think about Ryeissa right now, not when there was all this violence around him, consuming him, wanting to take control. But he couldn’t help it, couldn’t get her sweet, innocent face out of his mind.

  You don’t need to solve violence with violence.

  But Mason was damaged, and always would be. He had marks on his soul, evil coursing through his blood. As he much as he wanted to just end this asshole’s life, go back to his old lady, and pray he hadn’t ruined it, he also didn’t want to have to lie to her if she asked if he’d killed this punk.

  He tightened his hold on the handle of the blade, gritted his teeth, and knew that what he was going to do was the right thing, even if at this moment it felt like the wrong thing to do. He stood and moved back from Beau, but kept his gaze on him. “You’ll leave Steel Corner, and not come back. If I find out you or your friends are in town, or anywhere near town, I’ll hunt you down, cut off your arms and legs, gut you like a fish, and toss you into the Steel Corner Lake. Understand?”

  Beau didn’t answer right away, but looked behind Mason at the other guys, and Mason felt his annoyance rise. In one swift move, Mason stood and brought his boot to Beau’s gut hard enough he slammed against the wall again, and blood splattered out of his mouth.

  “Damn,” one Grizzly said.

  Another whistled under his breath.

  And another started laughing.

  “I asked you a motherfucking question.” Mason then reached down and hauled Beau off the ground. But Beau still didn’t answer. This prick had to have a death wish. “I could make this hurt even more before I fucking killed you. I could break every one of your fingers, skin you alive, and make sure you stayed conscious throughout the whole thing. Would you prefer that?” Mason said in a low, dangerous voice. “You have a choice, and you’re really fucking lucky I’m even giving you one. You can either get the fuck out of town with your life, or die in Steel Corner acting like you actually have one chance right now.”

  Beau kept looking behind Mason at the other members.

  “You think they give a shit if you live? You think they’ll stop me? Hell, they’ll want to see your blood covering the ground. They’ll fucking take bets on when you’ll be pissing your pants.” Mason bared his teeth, growling out low.

  “We came to watch a show, motherfucker.” That was Jakob speaking, and the amusement in his voice had Mason grinning, but in a purely sadistic way.

  “Mason, just make him your bitch, make the little prick cry,” Odin said, and the Patches all started laughing behind him.

  “Have him piss his pants like the other bitch,” Bodhi said, and there was another round of laughter.

  “Fuck you—”

  Mason slammed his fist into Beau’s face over and over again, hearing more bone break. “You don’t get to say shit. You and your little bitch ass fuckers came to our party, claiming it was your territory.” That had him chuckling humorlessly. “You went up against Grizzly shifters, asshole. I could have let that go, but then you fucked with my life, with my club. You deserve nothing but a slow, painful death right now.”

  “Then be done with it,” Beau said and bared his teeth, as well.

  “Look at the balls on this bastard,” Cain said, and there was a moment of silence, stillness.

  Mason could have crushed his life like it meant nothing, and it didn’t, but staring at this human, wanting him to hurt, all he could picture was Ryeissa and the life he wanted with her. He’d left her to do this, to handle what had been plaguing him for far too long. Killing Beau wouldn’t solve anything aside from giving him the revenge he needed, or thought he needed. Letting him live, and fearing what would happen if he fucked with them again, would be revenge enough.

  “You and your little bitches are going to leave Steel Corner,” Mason said in a dangerously low voice. He leaned in an inch so he and Beau were nose-to-nose. “You’re going to leave or I’m going to find you, rip off your dick and shove it down your throat.” He held his gaze with Beau’s. “You’re going to leave, and have it in the back of your head that I’ll be able to smell where your punk ass is, and know that if you fuck with me I won’t kill you, but take a little piece of you away each time you cross my path.” He saw the way Beau swallowed, smelled the fear coming from him in a stronger note, and grinned. Yeah, this li
ttle bitch was finally realizing what was up. He was finally getting smart.

  But Mason wasn’t just going to let him walk away. Fuck no. This asshole was going to feel pain ten times over.

  He took a step back, reached his hand out behind him, and without looking at his crew took the gun offered to him. The silencer was already in place, and although Mason liked using his hands to deal with his problems, Beau was going to see how it felt to have a bullet tear through him.

  Pointing the gun toward his leg, he fired off a shot. Beau screamed and fell to the ground, grabbing his leg. Tears started to track down the human’s face. Mason pointed the gun at Beau’s chest, but before pulling the trigger he lowered it. He then grabbed the knife again and crouched close to him. Beau tried to move back, but the wall stopped him. Mason didn’t wait in plunging the knife in Beau’s side. He made sure he hurt, could feel the searing pain deep in his body. He was getting off lucky, far too lucky, but Mason was going to give him his life.

  He took a step back, bent, and wiped the blade on Beau’s thigh. “You’ll leave.”

  Beau nodded furiously.

  “The cops won’t know anything about us.”

  Beau shook his head and gasped out, “No.”

  “Good. And you remember that I have your scent memorized. I can find you at anytime, asshole. You fuck with me or show your face and I’ll start making your life hell by cutting off your dick.” With that Mason turned and left the piece of shit house, the other Grizzlies following behind.

  They made their way across the street to the cars, and once Mason was at the driver’s side door he looked at the house. The door was closed, but hanging from the hinges. He didn’t know if the human would call the cops or an ambulance, but he didn’t care either. He wasn’t going to help out the fuckers one way or another.

  “I think we all need to go back to the club and drink this night off,” Lucas said and clapped Mason on the back.

  Mason stood there, his hand poised on the handle of the driver’s side door, his heart racing, his blood pumping. He had busted up knuckles, but he loved the pain, absorbed it all. His shirt was stained red, but it wasn’t his blood. The small wounds he had on his face had been what he needed, that pain enough to add even more fuel to his already blazing fire of rage.