Read Blood and Silver - 04 for Free Online

normal.
    One side of her mouth quirked up. “Thank you.”
    “Anytime.” I looked down at her. “You all right?”
    Small hands pushed me away. “Go back to work. I’ll be okay.”
    The snub-nosed .44 smoked slightly in my hand. I turned to the two lions who were still in place, still covered by the priest and Kat. The man had tears streaming down his cheeks and a look of horror on his face. The woman was unmoved, face impassive as a stone. Her coloring had deepened into a more burnished copper tone, and I could feel her anger from across the room.
    “Let me be clear.” I added the gun in my hand to the ones pointing at them. “You are not taking Sophia and you are getting the fuck out of my club.”
    As I stepped around the bar the man’s mouth moved to speak. I waved the gun at him like a librarian’s finger. “No, no, and no,” I said. His mouth closed into a tight line. “I don’t care what you have to say and I don’t want to hear it.” Leaning in toward him, my voice dropped to a growl worthy of an animal. “ You brought this down. You let him push too far.” My finger pointed at Cash’s body. It had fallen and was propped on the bar. Blood puddled on the waterproof surface in a thick, chunky soup spilled from the bowl of his skull. “This is what happens to anyone who threatens one of my people. If you ever forget it, you’ll be the next one to fall.” I stepped back. “Now get the hell out.”
    The Were-lion stared at me. Pride clashed with prudence on his face, making his dark features twist sourly. I stared at him. I don’t know what my face looked like. My old friend rage was bubbling under the surface of my skin. He gathered himself and turned toward the door. The woman with him did not move. She stood and seethed. His arm flashed out, pushing her toward the door as she glared at us. They were almost there when I whistled. The shrill sound cut through the air, getting his attention. He turned toward me. My finger stretched out, pointing at the body on the bar.
    “Leave with what you came with. We don’t take out other people’s trash here.”

3
    The Comet growled at me, motor low and angry, crackling through the exhaust pipes. I wasn’t driving her like I usually did. Normally, I am from the “drive it like you stole it” school of driving. Pedal to the metal, balls out, ninety to nothing kind of driving. The Comet is a hot rod. She eats asphalt like a fat kid at a cake buffet. It’s what she was made to do. Right now, though, she was an ambulance.
    Sophia was stretched across the backseat, blankets wadded around her frail form to keep her as still as possible. Air pulled through her muzzle in ragged fits, hitching and jerking as the breath drew in. As her lungs filled you could see knuckle-shaped lumps of broken ribs jutting up through her skin. The breath would leave her in a long wheeze, pushing thinly through her throat. The end of it always snagged, drawing short and spurting out wet and choked. It took longer than it should to draw another one in.
    I was worried about her condition but didn’t want to make it worse by driving recklessly.
    I had changed my shirt and jeans while Kat had bundled her up. My other ones had been filthy from the dirt and blood, as well as torn by Werewolf claws. I had also added the other Colt .45. Both of them hung openly against my new T-shirt, which read, “G OT S ILVER B ULLETS ?”
    Kat sat next to me. She had insisted on coming. Tiff stayed behind to shower away blood splatter, and Father Mulcahy would mop up and get ready for the evening opening of the club. I didn’t mind since Kat was the one who knew how to get to Larson’s. She was alternating between looking out the window and turning to keep an eye on Sophia. Her thick blond ponytail swayed as she turned to and fro.
    She wasn’t talking other than giving directions and making comforting noises to Sophia, so I reached over and turned the music up a touch. A cocksure guitar riff