The Wild Wolf Pup (Zoe's Rescue Zoo #9)(60)

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Ah, pent up aggression,” he says with a shrug of the shoulders.

“I don’t want to hear some shit about my sister not giving you…”

“Are you kidding me? Kitten would never survive without my cock, she’s the real tiger in the bedroom,” he says smugly.

Maybe I would pump someone full of lead tonight.

The fucking Tiger himself.

Then he’d know for sure there ain’t nothing rusty with me.

“Shit, I forget you’re her brother sometimes,” he grins. “You should see your face man, P-R-I-C-E-L-E-S-S.”

“Try harder to remember,” I say through clenched teeth.

“It’s my folks that have me all out of whack, itching to shoot someone. I thought beating the fuck out of that weasel, Sommers, would satisfy me, but nope I may have an anger problem.”

“Clearly,” I mutter, turning right behind the sedan I was following. “What’s got you riled up?”

“Lauren didn’t tell you about my folks?” He crumbles up the empty bag of Reese’s and flings it out the window. “I suppose that’s a good thing,” he contemplates. “Maybe she forgot.”

“Talk.”

“My parents showed up on our doorstep, insulted your sister and ripped into me for my life choices,” he sneers.

“I thought you had nothing to do with your parents,” I say.

“I didn’t. They dropped from the fucking sky like a bunch of vultures.”

“Well what do they want?”

“I didn’t ask. I kicked their asses to the curb when they gawked at me and my family. Fuck that shit, fuck them, fuck their millions, fuck it all.”

“Yeah, you might want to look into that anger problem,” I advise.

“Oh, give it up man. If your pops showed up on your door step what would you do?”

“We’re not talking about me,” I evade.

“Yeah, you’d fucking whack that prick,” he surmises.

Probably.

“My father left my mother high and dry, turned his back on his kids and never gave us a second thought. You turned your back on your family and they show up on your doorstep anyway,” I counter. “Don’t know your folks but that shit has to count for something.”

“It counts for nothing. They heard they got a grandkid and are looking for him to rule their oil empire.”

“Not a bad gig,” I argue. “It could be worse. Eric could wind up sitting in a truck with Luca both of them locked and loaded looking to wreak havoc on the warden of a federal prison.”

“Shit, imagine that,” he laughs.

“Let’s not, let’s hope those two boys are more like their mamas than us,” I say. “Call your old man, Riggs. Look at what we’re doing, think about why we’re tailing this fuck home. Life’s too short for regrets, man.”

“You left the mob and became a philosopher. I can’t wait to see the A&E documentary they do on your ass,” he quips, tipping his chin to the car in front of us as it rolls to a stop at a red light. “Let’s get this motherfucker,” he adds, reaching for the door handle.

I nod watching as he pulls a ski mask over his face and jumps out of the car. Riggs runs around the front of my truck and right up to the driver of the sedan, pulling the door open as he cocks his gun straight at the warden of Otisville. He pushes him into the passenger seat and climbs into the front seat, speeding through the red light with me right behind him.

My phone rings inside my pocket and I drive with one hand to retrieve it.

“Mike, now’s really not a good time,” I growl, trying to keep up with Riggs as he swerves in and out of traffic with his gun aimed at the warden. “Jesus,” I hiss. I got saddled with two pains in the ass brothers-in-law.

“Forget the dance,” he says quickly. “Get me a priest.”

I told Mike about my plan this morning and asked him if there was anything I should add to my list of demands. He only had one request; that his girl gets to dance with her dad one last time.

“Priest,” I mutter as Riggs pulls the sedan down a deserted ally. “Got it. Need to hang up now, Mike,” I rushed, ending the call and grabbing my piece from the glove box. I pull the safety back and get out of the truck. I leave the engine running so we can make a clean break.

For a split second I wonder why Mike gave a fuck if Vic was read his last rights, but as quickly as the thought crossed my mind it disappears. Riggs pulls the warden out of the car, dragging him by his feet onto the asphalt.

“Do you have any idea how much fucking trouble you’re going to be in?” The warden spits at Riggs.

“Do you have any idea how much trouble you’re going to be in when I grab the piece of ass you’ve been hiding and bring her straight to your unsuspecting wife?” Riggs fires back. “Now shut the fuck up before I put a bullet in your ass.”

“What do you want? I’ll give you whatever cash I have. Take my watch, it’s a presidential Rolex,” the warden cries.

Riggs lifts the warden’s wrist and inspects the expensive arm candy he was sporting.

“Pretty nice watch for a man on the state’s payroll,” Riggs comments, dropping his hand before slamming his boot against the man’s chest, keeping his gun aimed at the warden. “I bet I know how you can afford that sweet watch and how you pay the mortgage on the fancy house you keep your wife in or the dope apartment you stash your whore in on the Upper East Side.”