He stepped into the living room and aimed at the gunman still holding Joanne up on the stairs, knowing he didn’t have much of a target to work with. A couple of inches the wrong way and he’d completely miss the guy or hit Joanne instead. But he hit what the hell he was aiming at, clipping the guy in the shoulder. It wasn’t a fatal shot, but it rattled the man enough to make him release Joanne and take a step back.
Joanne seized her chance. Swinging an elbow at the second man, she whacked him in the face, knocking him backward. The moment she was free, she hurried down the stairs.
Tate charged forward to meet her, popping a few more shots at the men on the steps at the same time. He ended up putting another 9mm through the leg of the guy he’d already shot in the shoulder. The man just about took a header off the stairs, but then a woman’s arm suddenly reached out and yanked him back, practically picking the man up off his feet as she got him and the second guy out of the line of fire.
Even though her face was visible for barely a second, that was all the time it took for Tate to realize he’d seen her before. She was the wolf shifter Declan and Kendra had fought with back in February after the group she was with had tried to murder William Hamilton and his daughter. Tate and the rest of his team hadn’t gotten there until everything was over and the female wolf shifter was long gone, but he’d seen photos of her afterward. While she might be attractive as hell, she was also a hired killer.
He aimed his weapon, ready to take a shot, but before he could fire, she and the two men disappeared from sight. He cursed. Everything in him wanted to go after them, but he still had Joanne to worry about. If the growls coming from outside were any indication, he needed to worry about Chase, too.
Tate urged Joanne into the kitchen, keeping an eye on the landing above him in case the two men or the wolf shifter came back. But when he heard a window breaking up there, he knew the three of them had bailed. Which was kind of crazy, since they could have overwhelmed him by sheer numbers if they’d tried.
“Stay here,” he told Joanne, then turned and raced across the living room, praying he wasn’t too late to help Chase.
He dived out the window, tucking and rolling as his shoulders crunched through the broken glass littering the porch outside. He came up with his weapon ready just in time to see the feline shifter lean over the deputy, one of his clawed hands cocked back, ready to rip Chase’s throat out.
Tate didn’t have time to aim. He simply pulled the trigger, letting instinct guide him as he emptied his magazine at the shifter. He must have hit something, because the shifter staggered back a step and shot him a green-eyed look of pure rage.
For a second, it looked like the shifter was going to charge him before he could reload, but then Chase rolled over on the grassy lawn and grabbed his weapon, lying a few feet away. That was enough to convince the shifter it was time to go. With a growl of frustration, the man turned and darted for the main road. Chase tried to get a shot off at him, but the shifter was too fast. He disappeared into the darkness like a ghost. A few seconds later, there was a roar as the two SUVs tore off down the driveway and melted away into the night, one of them slowing only long enough to pick up the feline shifter. Tate reloaded in time to get a few rounds off in their direction. He didn’t hit anything, but it made him feel better regardless.
Jaw tight, he shoved his gun back in the holster under his coat and walked over to Chase. “You going to live?”
The front of the deputy’s uniform was shredded, but Tate didn’t see any blood. That was only because the deputy had been wearing a bulletproof vest. Thank God, or he would have been screwed.
From where he still sat on the ground, Chase nodded. “Joanne Ward okay?”
“She’s a little bruised and probably going to be sore as hell tomorrow, but she’s alive,” Tate said.
Chase nodded and reached out a hand for Tate to help him up. As he got to his feet, he glanced down at the tattered remains of his shirt and the Kevlar vest under it. Even in the darkness, it was impossible to miss the four perfectly aligned slash marks.
“Glad to hear that,” Chase said as he fingered the sliced material that had barely protected his chest. “Now that we got the rescuing part out of the way, maybe it’s time you tell me what the hell just happened. I’ve seen a lot of crap in my life, but nothing like that. The guy had frigging claws.”
Sirens echoed in the distance, heading their way.
“Yeah, I guess it is time we have that talk.” Tate glanced at Chase as they walked toward the house. “But before we go there, let me ask you a question. Are you more of a cat person or a dog person?”
* * *
It was well after dark by the time Tanner and Zarina walked into the prepper camp. He expected someone to remark on their absence, but as they moved slowly toward their cabin, no one said anything one way or the other. The few people who were out and about nodded pleasantly in their direction, then went back to what they were doing.
Zarina held his hand tightly in hers, and he could feel the drumming of her pulse against his palm. Not that he needed to feel the rapid thumping of her heartbeat to know she was excited. The
