Five Weeks (Seven Series #3)(113)

“I can sweat on them if you like,” he suggested, pushing the bag away. “I called Joker about tonight’s show—Trevor’s going in my place.”
“That what you’re upset about?”
Jericho fumbled through the glove compartment and swept his hand beneath the seat. “You got any smokes in here?”
“No smoking in my car. ’Preciate ya.”
Wheeler reached into a bag between the seats and grabbed a flat stick of beef jerky, which he immediately began gnawing on.
“Way to perpetuate the stereotype,” Jericho said. “Want a dog biscuit when you’re done to freshen your breath?”
“Shut the fuck up,” he muttered, still chewing.
Jericho noticed Wheeler had grown some stubble along his jaw. He reached out and poked Wheeler’s cheek, only to get a retaliatory punch in his chest. “You should let it all grow in instead of that scruff around your chin. Or shave it all off. Women like men who are decisive. Your facial hair looks like it’s having an identity crisis.”
Wheeler slanted his eyes at Jericho’s ensemble. “You buy that shirt on clearance in the misses department, sweetheart?”
“Don’t be an asshat. Where are we going?”
“Had a thought running in my head. You know that prick who played bobbing for apples with your girl? It just so happens he’s at home. Reno’s been scoping out his place the last couple of days, and he sticks to a routine. He’s a Shifter—that much we verified—but I don’t know what his animal is. All I know is he owns a damn cat.”
All humor evaporated from their banter. A wave of fury rolled through Jericho as his wolf snarled and snapped from within, demanding to be uncaged.
“Feel like paying him an unexpected visit?” Wheeler suggested. The motor thrummed an answer as the car increased in speed.
***
Wheeler shut off the headlights and the hot engine made tapping sounds.
“You sure he’s home?” Jericho asked. “It looks dark in there.”
“Maybe he went beddy-bye,” Wheeler said, rubbing the scruff on his chin. “Little pig, little pig, let us in.”
The houses were spread apart with a few acres of property surrounding each one. The dirtbag lived in a one-story brick that looked a few decades old. He didn’t have a garage, only a carport cover with a white car sheltered beneath. A few poisonous vines crawled up one of the live oaks to their right, and the driveway was cracked and narrow.
Jericho twisted off his rings. “Does he have a family?”
“What the hell kind of woman would mate with a guy like that? No, Reno did a check. He lives alone with a cat. I hate those damn things.”
The front door violently swung open, and a middle-aged man emerged with a shotgun in one hand, stalking toward their car. “You two had better get the fuck off my property!”
“And boom goes the dynamite,” Wheeler said, exiting the vehicle.
Jericho hopped out of the car and kept a steady pace ahead of Wheeler so this asshole knew who was gunning for him. The man had a shaved head and looked pretty seasoned for a Shifter. The small tattoo on his hand was nothing compared to the grotesque skull with black wings inked across his chest.
“You better step back and tell me your business before I blast a hole in your chest,” the man said.
“I’m Jericho, and you tried to snuff out my woman.”
He pursed his lips as if recalling a memory. “The redhead, huh?” He sized Jericho up with his beady eyes. “Are you what I think you are?”
“You mean badass?” Jericho took off his necklace with the ring on it and handed it to Wheeler. “Keep this.” Then he peeled off his tank top and approached the man. “Tell me your name.”
The man raised the shotgun and shifted his stance. “Shane. You plan on taking me out on a date now?” Shane belted out a villainous laugh.
“Put the gun down, and let’s settle this like men.”
“Why should I?”
“Because a Shifter with a gun is nothing but a pussy with a weak animal. Nobody messes with my girl and walks away alive.”
Shane’s thumb stroked the barrel of the gun, his gaze traveling between them. “How do I know your friend there isn’t going to join in?”
“I’m not into threesomes,” Wheeler said. “What’s the matter, can’t hold your own?”
Jericho turned around. “Get in the car. Stay there, no matter what happens.”
“I’m not leaving you out here, baby bro.”
“Yeah, you are. Get in the damn car. This is my battle to fight, so the pack stays out.”
Wheeler stroked the hair on his chin, contemplating the request. “Fine. But you realize if something goes wrong, then brother or not, Austin will toss me out of the pack for watching it go down?”