She took one last look around her home and walked out the door. It would be dark in less than an hour, but the humid heat wouldn't dissipate until well after midnight.
Not even two feet outside, Elka froze, her blade shaped ears swiveling around, alert as she lifted her muzzle to scent at the air.
The hairs on Dillon's arms quivered as she paused behind the wide porch column, looking and listening for whatever had caught Elka's attention.
Ever's pink Harley tee clung to the sweat that broke out on Dillon's skin, her heart thundered in her chest, and adrenaline pumped through her veins, but the hand she had wrapped around the butt of her gun was steady.
There weren't any bird sounds, the bugs in the trees were unusually quiet, and even her human nose could detect the faint scent of cigarette smoke.
It was times like these that learning Elka's attack commands in Russian made sense. Someone was trespassing on her small plot of land, and chances were good they didn't speak a word of Russian.
So, they wouldn't know she'd just quietly told Elka to move forward with her, which sent the dog into full on attack mode.
Elka moved with the grace of a demon, hackles up, head low, ears forward toward the threat only she could hear at this point. It happened fast, but Dillon and Elka had prepared together for a day just like this.
With a word, Dillon sent Elka after the biker coming around the house behind her, leaving Dillon to face the one coming around in front of her.
He wore a face shield with a grotesque skull leering at her over his mouth and nose, leaving only his muddy brown eyes and greasy, windblown tangle of hair visible.
His jeans were streaked with dirt and grease, his T-shirt had likely once been white, but it was now a dingy yellowish gray.
In contrast, his leather vest was immaculately clean. Black, with blue stitching and an octopus patch on the upper left-hand corner.
In a split second, her vision narrowed to the menace in his gaze and the wicked sharp knife he held in his hand. She’d really had enough being threatened with a knife.
Hearing the other biker scream and fall to Elka's brutal attack, Dillon didn't hesitate to fire at her target.
Blood blossomed beneath the octopus patch, right where she'd meant her bullet to go. At the same time, the white siding of her house turned red as the right side of his head exploded.
“What a dumbass,” a man announced with obvious disdain.
Dillon took a step back and crouched behind one of the concrete planters she’d built for cover, glancing sideways to see the other biker down and choking on his last breath, rivers of blood pouring out from the torn flesh of his throat.
Elka was trained to attack, to kill in order to protect Dillon, but it would bother her later to remember the way Elka's teeth were stained red, the froth around her lips pink as she returned to Dillon's unprotected side to snarl and growl warningly.
“Who brings a knife to a gunfight anymore?”
Whoever the new player was, he was somewhere in the treeline, keeping her from making it to the Bronco without leaving the protection of the planter, and obviously, he was an excellent shot.
“You're a dumbass, dumbass,” another voice replied. “Giving away your position before we've had time to assure the lady with very fine aim and one bad bitch on her heel that we're friends. Sloppy, Duke. Fuckin’ sloppy.”
“Fuck you, Matt. Could you have taken that shot any slower?” Duke grumbled.
A third man heaved a sigh and stepped out of the cover of the trees. The sun was behind him, but Dillon could clearly see his outline and the empty hands he held up and out to his sides.
“Dillon DeLoughrey? My name is Tobias. Top called me and my team this morning to say you'd had a run-in with that dickhole, Ghost, and could be facing some problems with his Leviathans.
“I know we're a little late to the party, but we're here to make sure you stay alive. I'm gonna reach in my pocket with two fingers for my phone to call Perdition, okay? Don't shoot.”
Dillon didn't move except to loosen the finger she had curled around the trigger of her gun. Tobias did what he said he would, moving slowly and deliberately to get his cell, putting it on speaker so she could hear it ringing.
The line clicked after two rings, and a familiar voice answered.
“You're an hour late for the check-in, toad whack. Dillon still alive?”
Dillon could just make out Tobias's smile, taking a slow, deep breath as he took a step closer with the hand holding the phone outstretched.
“She is, but we got two dead Leviathan's on the ground, and she shot one of them before Matt could get a bead. You're on speaker so she doesn't shoot me next. Or send the dog after me.”
Tobias definitely found this situation amusing, but like he said, there were two dead men on her property, and Dillon was responsible for both.
“Given the size of those chompers, you might prefer the bullet,” Top drawled before raising his voice to address her. “Girly, I ain't one to say 'I told you so,' but in case you're not convinced about the severity of your situation, take a gander at those bodies and decide whether or not you want to continue to fly solo or come back here and let me and the boys look after you till we get this shit sorted.”
She let out the breath she'd been holding, about to honestly tell Top that she'd prefer not to have to shoot anyone else and to apologize for being so damn stubborn.
She meant to, right up until Tobias took another step toward her, which put the setting sun behind him, giving her a clear look at his face.
Like the ocean flowing away from the shore to feed the oncoming tsunami,
