Page 56 of My Girlfriend is a Werewolf

“Then why isn’t she the one hunting?” Derek asked.

“Because these bones hate the cold and damp. Speaking of, I’ve got hot cocoa in a thermos and cookies in a tin. Anyone want a snack?” Grams had a thing about feeding people, apparently even in times of intense stress.

They ate and drank while reviewing the footage. Despite Derek’s trepidation, it really did seem as if slamming Bessie through the front door would be their best option for getting inside.

As dawn approached, they readied themselves and ate yet again, as Grams insisted they fill their bellies. She might have been right, since he felt wide awake after. Which led to him eyeing her with suspicion. “What was in those muffins and that protein shake?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Grams…” He injected a warning tone.

“Just a few vitamins and some caffeine… oh and something that I’m not allowed to talk about because it’s not technically on the market.”

“What the fuck?” he exclaimed.

“I just told you I can’t tell you what the fuck it is. Suffice it to say it acts as a bit of an upper. Think of it as a jolt of adrenaline that doesn’t wear off for a few hours.” Grams grinned.

“Is it safe?” he exclaimed.

“Seemed to work fine for a certain elderly politician.” And that was all she’d say.

With the lights turned off, Derek rode once more with Ares, as they would be the ones rushing in after Bessie smashed her way through. Grams had her rifle and scope and sat in the gunner seat, the safety already off the mini mounted machine gun, ready to mow down any opposition, while Gramps drove. They would only exit the vehicle if they had no other choice. Derek had made them promise. Bessie was bulletproof. They weren’t.

When Grams pointed out he was made of meat as well, he growled, “If you get killed, I will piss on your grave daily.”

“And if you die, you little bastard, I’ll never bake cookies again.”

Their version of I love you.

As prepared as they could be, they went to war.

Or so it felt.

He and Ares were grim-faced as they neared the old church, rolling slowly in the dark, hoping for the element of surprise, if that was even possible given the growl of the pickup and the even more intense rumble of Bessie.

Soon as they pulled into the church parking lot, overgrown with weeds and even a few saplings pushing through pavement, bright lights turned on, projecting from the bell tower, highlighting them. A voice barked, “You are in a restricted area.”

Derek eyed Ares. “If I don’t make it, tell Athena I love her, even if she’s hairier than me.”

Ares’ lips quirked. “You’d better make it out alive, or I have a feeling I’ll be just as dead as you because my sister will kill me.”

The guy on the megaphone still shouted. “Step out of the vehicles with your hands up.” Apparently, they were no longer being allowed to leave.

“Showtime,” Ares announced, hopping out without a qualm. Derek moved slower. Convinced he’d be shot. Wondering attheir madness in thinking they could act as an extraction team. They didn’t have the experience or?—

Pop.

The guy in the bell tower fired first, the slug embedding in the door of the truck, dropping Derek’s jaw. These guys weren’t messing around.

Grams shouted, “Fucker, how dare you shoot at my grandson!”

“Surrender now or—” Whoever bellowed in the megaphone cut off mid-sentence as Grams took him out. Either the guy had nerves of steel and didn’t scream from his injury, or Grams killed them.

Killed a man.

This was happening.

Holy shit. Derek remained ducked behind the truck’s door. He glanced through the cab to Ares crouched on the other side.

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