Shades of Darkness (Redemption Series) by Melynda Price Page A

to yourself,” Rowen growled. “Are you trying to get us pulled over? ‘Cause that’s gonna end real well.” His heated glare bore into Haden from the passenger seat. “In case you haven’t figured it out, I don’t like you. You’re a hothead and you’re intolerant to authority. Make no mistake, Haden, I’m the leader of this little mission, and if you continue to act like such an ass, you and I are going to have a little ‘Come to Jesus meeting,’ if you get my drift.”
    Haden looked straight ahead, trying to keep the smile off his face. This stupid bastard really has no idea who he was dealing with. Someone should clue him in before he gets himself killed.
    “I’m not one of your posse’, Rowen,” Haden replied in a dead calm voice. “And before you go around threatening people, I’d suggest you take the time to know exactly who you’re threatening.”  Haden took his eyes off the road and leveled him with a cold hard stare.
    The tension in the car was tactile, and Cale shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Hey, there’s a motel. I bet that’s the place,” he said, pointing to the small run-down shithole on their left.
    Reluctantly, Haden fixed his eyes back on the road, unwilling to forfeit their pissing contest.
    “It looks pretty skanky, though,” Cale continued, a pathetic attempt to distract Haden from ripping Rowen’s head off. “I’m not sure he’d bring her here.”
    “That’s exactly why he’d bring her here,” Haden grumbled, jerking the wheel hard and to the left, jumping the curb of the parking lot.
     
    ***
     
    Holy shit, was Rowen trying to get them all killed? Was playing let’s-see-who-has-the-biggest-balls really worth getting them lopped off? He didn’t know about Rowen, but Cale preferred his right where they belonged—between his legs. He kept his distance as Haden hopped out of the car and strode up to the motel. The guy moved with menacing grace and an air of entitlement he’d no doubt earned from blood, sweat, and tears—of his victims.
    The door chimed as Haden walked inside. He and the others followed behind.
    “Can I help you?” the old man asked from behind the desk, not bothering to look up.
    “Yes, you can,” Haden said, leaning against the counter. “You had a couple check out of here a little bit ago. Registered under the first name of Liam, perhaps? I need you to tell me the make and model of the car he was driving, along with the plate number.”
    The clerk slowly lifted his head at Haden’s arrogant request, his already wrinkled face puckered into a surly scowl. Shooting a wary glance past Haden to Rowen, Rhen and finally himself, the man tensed.
    “Sorry, fellas, I can’t give that sort of information out.”
    When Haden stepped closer, the clerk’s arm subtly reached under the counter. Cale gave a slight shake of his head, warning him to stop.
    Don’t do it, man. Being a hero isn’t worth your life .
    And that’s exactly the payment Haden would demand if this guy had the nerve to stick a gun in his face.
    “Maybe you didn’t hear me correctly,” Haden drawled, menace saturating his voice. “I’m here for the make, model, and plate number of that car.”
    The old man cast a nervous glance over Haden’s shoulder. “I heard you just fine,” he said—reaching… “But I can’t give you the information you’re looking for.”
    Oh shit, here we go…
    Before the man could blink, Haden’s hand shot out across the counter and grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt, jerking him inches from Haden’s face, his pale green eyes flashing brightly as they bore into the fear-stricken man.
    “Can’t or won’t?” Haden growled and then glanced at Cale, nodding his head toward the counter.
    Moving on cue, he walked behind the counter to get the log book. “It’s right here,” he said, placing the black ledger on the counter.
    “The gun,” Haden growled, reaching out his hand. “Hand me the gun.”
    Cale pulled the revolver out from