REVENGE OF THE VENGEFUL MATE

Bo Queensley

The darkness of the street hid me from the eyes of those unsuspecting pedestrians going their way. They couldn’t see me or tell I was there even if they wanted to.

My stomach growled once again in a fit of maddening rage. At this time of the day, the rich had already eaten twice yet here I was with an empty belly and a devious mind.

I pulled the hood of the dark cloak I wore over my head and moved into the busy street which was the playground in which the street urchins like myself did the unthinkable relieving the rich bastards of their excess wad of cash, jewelry, and on rare occasions the lottery tickets.

I took deep breaths to steel my nerves before I picked a target. It was a trickery thing to do especially with the others running loose in the streets getting a head-on. The kids had an advantage I no longer possessed. They were small and their size gave them the ability to weave through the crowd easily and avoid being noticed. I had grown up and lost that advantage.

A woman wearing a yellow hat and brown fur coat walked toward where I stood observing the scene. She looked rich and I could tell she wasn’t powerful enough to be a threat. Her aura read normal. I made my move in the opposite direction. I was going to use the old bump technique and empty the bear skin purse she held.

Just as I got close enough to make contact with her, a hand grabbed hold of my arm and yanked me away with the force of a thousand whirlwinds. I was about to smash my fist into the sucker's face when I caught the familiar scent of Garreth Wesley. Garreth was the patrolling officer in charge of the district and he was one scary sonofabitch.

“Bo.” He growled at me. There was a vicious look on his face. He was a good-looking man when you looked past his serious expressions and prehistoric mannerisms.

“You look furious. It’s not a good look on you.” I said smiling nervously at him.

This wasn’t the first warning I was getting from him but the last time he had warned me, he made it clear it was going to be the last time.

“I think a night in the slammer is way overdue. Turn around.” He reached into his pocket to get his cuffs.

My brain worked fast trying to think of a way I would be able to survive the encounter I was having with him. He wasn’t fucking around. That part was obvious.

“I think we should take deep breaths and talk about this in a civilized way,” I said putting my hands out.

He shook his head. His expression made me realize he was out for blood and I had fallen into his trap. He yanked his cuffs out and rushed me but I was fast enough to avoid his hand. He tried to grab hold of my cloak but I was just too fast for him.

“Tired yet?” I asked flexing my ankles. “I could do this all day long.”

He bent low breathing hard, you would think he was about to have a heart attack. He cursed.

“I need you off the street. You are going to get in trouble if you continue picking pockets.”

“How?” I scoffed.

“Have you seen yourself? You are a grown-ass woman. You’re no longer a kid.” He said as he struggled to stand upright.

I snarled because I knew he was right. Picking pockets had been easier when I was a kid. At that age, people tend to ignore you and I was invisible but now when I walked through the streets, half the guys I walk past stared at me as if I was a lamb walking past a hungry pack of wolves.

“You know I have no other choice. It’s not like I can eat sand and stones off the road.”

He sighed getting the dust off his blue official trench coat. I knew he was just looking out for me like he always did but he had to understand my position.

“Just think of something else.” The sound of his walkie-talkie made him stiffen.