Hard to Handle by Fel Fern

Author:Fel Fern [Fern, Fel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781646370689
Published: 2020-01-14T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

Bruiser took a sip of his beer, downed it in a few seconds, and yelled at the bartender for another. The guy gave him a look.

“Paying customer here,” he said, waving his wallet. He only had a twenty left in there. Not a cent more. Who cared? His life was in the drain.

The bartender, a burly, werewolf in his late forties with a beer gut, handed him another. “You seem troubled, friend.”

Friend? Bruiser snorted. Was this guy trying to be funny?

“If some puny human with a big-shot family and his werewolf bodyguard screwed you over, you’d be depressed, too.”

Bruiser touched the indentation left by the police cuffs on his wrists and scowled at the beer the bartender slid in front of him. Drinking this early in the morning. His ma would’ve been furious. His dad would’ve been proud. Didn’t matter. Both were dead.

He would’ve managed to worm his way out of a human police jail easily but no. Bruiser had been classified as dangerous and was taken away by the paranormal police. Thankfully, one of the cops there owed Bruiser a favor, which he collected. His buddy Al slipped in the key to his cell on his lunch tray three days ago, and he escaped the same night.

Now, he was out. His brief stint in jail only worsened the hunger for vengeance festering inside of him.

Max Shepard. He’d whispered that stinking rich brat’s name every night in his cell. Screw Max, his rich family, and his bodyguard. That big bastard had tossed Bruiser around like he was some mangy, stray dog. Like he was nothing.

Bruiser had nothing now. No job. He was about to lose his apartment, and worse, the paranormal police were probably on a lookout for him. Bruiser had the distinctive sensation of being followed all day long. He thought the cops were closing in on him, but here he was. Still drowning his sorrows.

Bruiser could get a new job any time he wanted, but his reputation? That was one thing he couldn’t get back easily. He reached out to all of his old buddies, thinking they’d lend him some cash, let him crash on their couch a few nights. No one offered. In their eyes, he was weak, bested by a cocky little human.

“You look familiar.”

Bruiser growled softly under his breath. Wouldn’t surprise him if his face was featured on the local news. He’d probably injured four cops during his escape. Bruiser knew he should’ve kept his head down, stayed low a couple of days, but he was thirsting for a beer.

“You were on the news. Broke out of the police station on Fifty-Seventh Street. Killed one cop and injured three on your way out, am I wrong?

Bruiser finished his second bottle and warily studied the bartender. He took a look around the dirty bar. Peanut shells and empty bottles from the night before littered the joint. No one else there but the two of them. Worse-case scenario? Bruiser could take out the bartender and scram, but the other werewolf hadn’t picked up the phone.

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