The Prof Croft Series: Books 0-4 (Prof Croft Box Sets Book 1) by Brad Magnarella (best business books of all time txt) 📕

“Did he attack you?” Budge asked.

“He pointed a Smith and Wesson at him,” the wolf replied, nodding at his brother, “packed with silver.”

“We confiscated it,” Brother Two said with a grin. “Then ran it over.”

The revolver had cost me a small fortune, but its condition was the least of my worries at the moment.

Budge stopped in front of me, hands on the hips of his baggy trousers. He studied the right side of my face, the side that had absorbed the brunt of my fall. It felt stiff with blood. Budge sighed and looked over the rest of me. “Well, untie him, for God’s sake. He looks like an Italian sausage.”

Not the next words I’d been expecting.

The wolves looked at one another before stalking forward, fierce yellow nails emerging from the ends of their fingers. The same nails that had sliced Lady Bastet’s throat?

They wedged their nails under the restraints and ripped away the plastic ties. Within seconds, I was free—but not free from danger. The wolves loomed over me, hatred shining in their flaming irises. I was the killer of their brethren, after all, maimer of their leader.

I leaned back as Brother One reached for my face. With a flick, he snagged a corner of the tape and tore the whole thing from my mouth. I licked lips that felt raw and swollen.

“Don’t just stand there, Flint,” Budge snapped. “Go get him a drink.”

“A drink?” Flint asked.

“There’s an old vending machine around back,” Budge said. “See if there’s anything left inside. You too, Evan.”

The two wolves growled down at me before pacing away.

“You’ll have to forgive them.” Budge dragged another office chair from the side of the room and sat on the front edge of the seat. “Big dummies. I just wanted them to pick you up so we could chat.”

“In a warehouse?” I asked skeptically.

“Yeah, well, this is sort of off the record. I couldn’t have you coming to City Hall. Not without upsetting the rest of the pack.” He dipped his head so he could see my downcast face better. “Hey, I really am sorry about the rough treatment. You gonna be all right?”

Though the mayor was playing Mr. Nice Guy, I knew his game. He wanted to extract some sort of information before giving the kill order. Like he’d no doubt done with Lady Bastet.

“What do you want to talk about?”

Budge leaned to one side as though taking his measure of me. “Look, I’m not gonna bullshit you, Everson. I’ve got a list of reasons to want you gone, the top one being that you damned near killed my wife.”

“Well, you damned near killed me. Makes us even, right?”

Budge smiled. “I have a private firing range I go to every Saturday, ten a.m. Over two hundred rounds a visit. Been doing that for at least twenty years now. I’m a damned good shot from fifty. You were about, what, twenty feet away when I pulled the trigger that morning? What I’m saying is that if I’d been shooting to kill, you’d be worm food right now.”

A ghost pain throbbed in my right chest where the bullet had entered. I touched a hand to the spot and gauged Budge’s distance. He was close enough that I could reach him before he drew a gun, pound him to the floor. The problem would be the wolves. With their preternatural senses, they would hear the commotion. I was in no condition to outrace them—and without my sword, gun, or magic, in even less condition to fight them.

“The truth is, Everson, I like you,” the mayor went on. “No, I’m serious. You helped my stepdaughter, and you seem like a genuinely decent person. Plus, you’ve got some good people out there vouching for you.”

Caroline, I thought with mixed emotions.

“I also happen to know you do a lot of good work for the city.” He tipped me a conspiratorial wink. I stiffened when I realized he was referring to my duties with the Order: banishing nether creatures, closing their portals to our world. But who in the hell could have told him about that? Not even Caroline knew the extent of my work. We hadn’t gotten that far.

“It’s all right,” he said, showing a hand. “Your secret’s safe.”

The wolves returned, Flint holding a green can. He was slightly bigger than his brother, and I pegged him as the older one. “There was only one drink left in the machine,” Flint said, “diet ginger ale.”

“Fine, fine.” Budge took the soda and shooed the wolves back out of the office. “Here.” He cracked the tab and handed the can to me.

The aluminum was hot in my grip, and the ginger ale went down warm, but I was too thirsty to care. Who knew how long I’d been conked out and pouring sweat before the mayor showed up? I drank down half the ginger ale, then lowered the can to my knee and burped.

“Better?” Budge asked, in a concerned voice.

“I would be if I knew what the hell you wanted.”

“I’m getting to that.”

I couldn’t stand the dancing around anymore. “Did you know Lady Bastet was killed earlier today?” I said.

“The mystic in the Village?” The mayor’s face scrunched up as he loosened his tie and used his collar to fan his neck. “She was the one who changed my stepdaughter back, right?”

I nodded slowly. I was usually good at reading false emotions on a person’s face, but the mayor appeared surprised by the news, saddened even. Maybe a group of Penny’s wolves had gone rogue.

“Any suspects?” Budge asked.

“None that I know of,” I answered carefully.

“Damned shame.” Sullenly, Budge wiped his brow with a forearm. “Too much of that sort of thing happening in the city. I’m not sure if you caught my press conference earlier today.”

“I did,” I replied. “Round up the supernaturals, throw them in an oven, save the city.”

The mayor gave an embarrassed chuckle. “Well, those kinds of announcements are always one part policy, two parts theater.”