“Oh shit.” Chase killed the engine and turned off the headlights. “This can’t be good.”
Tate cursed at the sight of the two dark SUVs parked diagonally across the driveway, blocking the garage. Beside him, Chase grabbed his radio and called for immediate backup. Tate barely heard him identifying himself as an off-duty deputy from Oxford County and reporting suspicious activity at Joanne’s address. He was more interested in what the hell was happening in the house.
Jumping out of the car, he pulled his DCO-issued 9mm and approached the pair of SUVs. Based on the position of the small two-door coupe half in and half out of the garage, it looked like Joanne had been in the process of leaving just as the SUVs had shown up, but she was nowhere to be seen.
The driver and passenger doors of both SUVs were wide open, and the engines were still running. That meant there were probably four bad guys on the scene, which weren’t horribly terrible odds. Unless one of those four bad guys was the shifter or hybrid who’d torn Bell apart. Then they were shitty odds.
Tate took a quick look in the first SUV he passed, confirming it was empty before moving into the garage. The door leading into the house was open, and he could make out the outline of a hallway with a dim glow of light at the end.
Chase caught up with Tate as he approached the door. The deputy nodded once as he took up a cover position. Tate returned his nod, then led the way into the house and down the hall.
They’d just entered the country-style kitchen when Tate heard a woman’s scream. It was immediately followed by the sound of struggling, then a low-pitched growl.
Tate cursed. There was definitely a shifter or a hybrid in there, which meant he and Chase probably only had a few seconds to get to the woman before their scents gave them away. It also meant the cop was about to get his first introduction to the real world the hard way.
He glanced at the deputy. “You’re about to see some crap you’re going to have a hard time dealing with,” he whispered. “But it’s real, so watch yourself. These things are more dangerous than you can imagine. If you get a chance, shoot to kill.”
Tate knew Chase would have liked more information, and in a different situation, he would have supplied it. But right now, there simply wasn’t time. Ignoring Chase’s questioning look, he hurriedly crossed the kitchen and into the living room beyond, hoping the man would follow.
The living room was as poorly lit as the kitchen had been, but there was enough light to see the two men coming down the stairs, a struggling Joanne Harvey in their arms. A third man moved slowly behind the others, his graceful movements giving him away as the shifter or hybrid. There was another person on the upstairs landing, but the angle was bad, and Tate couldn’t make out enough details to even tell if the last person in the group was a man or a woman.
Tate didn’t recognize any of the men, but he knew their type immediately. Big, fit-looking mercenaries, they seemed completely unfazed by Joanne’s cries of pain as they dragged her down the stairs.
The shifter must have smelled them at the same time as Tate stepped forward and lifted his weapon, because his head snapped up, his eyes glowing vivid green. That answered one question. They were definitely dealing with a shifter. Probably the one who’d shredded Bell.
Well, on the bright side, they weren’t dealing with a psychotic, out-of-control hybrid. Instead, they were up against a psychotic, completely in-control shifter. That was so much better.
“Police! Stop where you are, and let the woman go!” Chase ordered as he moved past Tate and farther into the living room in an attempt to cover everyone on the stairs.
Judging from the firm, authoritative tone of voice Chase used, the deputy was used to people doing exactly what he told them. Too bad it wasn’t likely to work out that way this time.
Everyone did freeze, though, for all of three seconds. Then all hell broke loose.
One of the two goons on the stairs yanked Joanne against his chest like a human shield while the other leaned close for cover. In a blur, both men reached behind their backs and came out with a matching set of Micro Uzis. A split second later, the shifter launched himself off the second-floor landing, heading straight for Chase, eyes blazing, claws and fangs on full display.
Tate would have tried to shove the deputy out of the way, but before he could move, the living room exploded with the sound of two fully automatic submachine guns tearing the place apart. He barely avoided the hail of gunfire, darting into the kitchen just as the carpet in front of him was riddled with bullets.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the shifter hit Chase square in the chest. But instead of the graceful feline killer driving the cop down to the floor like he probably intended, the deputy rolled back with the impact, getting a foot planted in the shifter’s gut at the same time and sending him flying over his head and bouncing him off the coffee table.
The shifter was up in a flash, rage twisting his features. Chase scrambled to his feet and ran full speed toward his attacker, driving him backward and straight through the big picture window in the living room. Breaking glass was accompanied by a few curses and a whole lot of growling, then both men disappeared from sight into the darkness.
Seeing their shifter buddy vanish like that must have stunned the two men on the stairs, because the shooting came to a sudden halt. Then again, maybe the men were just reloading. Micro Uzis tended to go through ammo quickly. Either way, Tate
