Then reality—in the form of Mahsood, who was currently gasping for breath as he tried to keep up—made an appearance, and Tate knew his plan had the potential to go to crap really fast. He glanced over his shoulder to see Chase practically dragging the man through the woods by one arm and not making very good time even then. They’d fallen a good fifteen feet behind him already.
“Can’t you just carry him?” Tate suggested, pausing for a moment to check behind them.
Chase snorted. “If you’re so hyped up about someone carrying the evil doctor, why don’t you do it?”
Tate chuckled. “While I’d like to get Mahsood back to the DCO alive, I don’t want it badly enough to carry him. Besides, you’re younger than I am by a few years and obviously need the workout.”
Chase scowled.
“I can’t help but think I would be better off on my own out here,” Mahsood panted as Chase picked up the pace. “If you let me go and simply create a diversion, I can escape, then meet up with you somewhere later. Once I’m out of the area, they’ll ignore the two of you, since it’s obvious you have no value to anyone.”
Chase pinned Tate with a look as they caught up to him. “Can we just leave him here? Maybe tie him to a tree with a bow around it?”
Tate cursed and grabbed Mahsood’s free arm. “Unfortunately, no. So let’s get going.”
He and Chase took off running again, making pretty good time. Almost good enough to convince Tate they were going to reach the highway before anyone caught up with them. He only hoped someone driving by would stop and pick them up.
Behind him, Tate heard the sound of running feet. He barely drew his weapon, when two blurs slammed into him and Chase at the same time. Mahsood let out something that sounded like a screech, but Tate didn’t do more than grunt as he flew ten feet through the air like he’d been hit by a train.
He lost his weapon when he hit the ground, pain exploding through his body from the force of the impact. The moment he bounced to a stop, the feline shifter was on him, straddling his body, one clawed hand cocked back and ready to rip out his throat. Tate immediately lifted an arm to protect himself, but before he could counterattack, the man’s curved claws sliced through his forearm. Ignoring the pain, Tate brought the heel of his right hand up and slammed it into the shifter’s nose. The crunching sound it made was rewarding as hell.
The man threw back his head and roared, and while it didn’t incapacitate him, it definitely distracted him. Tate used that to his advantage, knocking the shifter off his chest. Tate jumped up, searching wildly for his weapon. Unfortunately, it was nowhere in sight. Neither was Mahsood. However, Chase was tussling with the female wolf shifter and having nearly as much trouble as he was. His arms were bloody from claw marks, and the way he was favoring his left side indicated he might be dealing with some cracked ribs. Getting blindsided by a shifter running at full speed could do that sometimes.
The wolf shifter’s claws and fangs were fully extended, and she looked ready to kill. But as much as Tate would have liked to run over to help, he needed his damn weapon first. He spun in a slow circle, wishing for the first time in his life that he’d gotten a weapon in some color other than black.
He caught sight of it half buried in the leaves and dirt just as the feline shifter pulled his hand away from his smashed nose. He looked at Tate with pure murder in his eyes.
Tate lunged for the weapon at the same time as the shifter launched at him. Tate hit the ground, his fingers closing around the familiar grip of his pistol just as the man landed on him. Tate barely had a chance to tighten his hand on the weapon before the shifter yanked him over onto his back. He tried to bring the weapon up and point it in the right direction, but the shifter grabbed his wrist and slammed it to the ground.
Tate twisted, reaching for the claws digging into his wrist. That was when he realized his pistol was now pointing straight at Chase. Or more precisely, the wolf shifter pinning his partner against a tree as she prepared to tear him apart.
Tate didn’t hesitate, even though he knew it was likely to end up with him getting his own throat ripped out. He simply squeezed off four rounds in the general direction of the wolf shifter.
The sounds of the gunshots shattered the morning calm, making everyone jump, and while three of the rounds completely missed their marks, the last one hit, going through the woman’s right thigh. She screamed in pain and tumbled to the side, hitting the ground hard, then spinning back up to throw Tate a look that suggested she couldn’t wait to shred the flesh off his bones.
But instead of coming at him, she lifted her head and sniffed the air. Giving her feline partner a hard look, she turned and darted into the forest.
Over by the tree, Chase was just dragging himself to his feet. Tate knew the man wasn’t going to be able to help him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the feline shifter lift his clawed hand for another killing slash and knew his forearm wasn’t going to stop it this time.
Suddenly, a blur flashed past
