Moon Sworn

and I’ll probably open my own—”

She paused and cocked her head sideways. “T.J.’s just walked into the building.”

“He’s a shifter?”

She nodded, amusement playing around her lips. “Unfortunately for him, his alternate form is less than exciting. He’s a hare.”

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. “A hare?”

“Yeah. It does explain his penchant for the sex business, though.” She paused again, then frowned. “Those men are back. The bird-shifter—”

The rest of her sentence was cut off by two short, sharp gunshots.

Chapter 6

As screams erupted from the floors below, I glanced at Cass and whispered urgently, “Get under the bed and don’t come out until I say so.”

As she scrambled to obey, I headed for the door. There was a blue silk dressing gown hanging from a hook near the door, so I grabbed that and put it on—more to blend in than to cover my partial nakedness. Then I pressed my back to the door frame and switched on the com-link.

“Jack, we have shots fired at the brothel. Something’s gone wrong.”

“Did they spot you coming in or out?”

“I’d say no except for the fact that they’re back here and shooting. Maybe there were some security systems that weren’t taken out by the power outage.”

“And maybe they got wind of us tracking down Surrey and are now erasing all possible leads back to them. And that would mean the phone number Surrey knew, and possibly anyone who knows its location.”

“That’s pretty cold-blooded.”

“And so are your targets.”

He probably had that right. I took a quick glance around the corner. Shadows and sunshine vied for prominence in the hallway. The door down the end of the hall was still closed, but as I looked, a bolt slammed home. The occupants had obviously heard the shots—not that a bolt would stop a determined shifter. I glanced over my shoulder to ensure Cass couldn’t be seen, then edged out into the hallway.

There were people running up the stairs and others running for the rear of the building. The air was thick with the smell of fear and blood, but at least the screaming had stopped. But although there were no more gunshots, those men were still down there. I could smell the wolf, as he could no doubt smell me. Hopefully, he’d just think I was working here. It might be unusual for a wolf to work in a brothel, but it wasn’t unheard of.

They were obviously going after their main target first, and that had to be the owner, the man who’d rented them the room. Anyone else they’d take care of when and if they had the time.

I reached the banister and took a quick glance down. Two half-dressed women were fleeing up the stairs, and several yards behind them ran a man wearing a lot of gold jewelry. Behind them all, one flight down, was the blond bird-shifter with the gun. His movements were calm, assured. Maybe he knew there was no way out up here—other than jumping out a window. And if anyone who didn’t have wings attempted that from this height

… Well, he’d probably save himself some bullets.

I reached out telepathically, intending to slip into his mind and stop him, only to hit an electronic wall. The bastard was wearing a nanowire. And a strong one, if the recoil of energy was any indication. I could break it, but it would take time and, more important, leave me open for attack from the wolf. I couldn’t psychically attack two men simultaneously, even if I was one of the Directorate’s strongest telepaths.

I stepped back into the shadows and waited. The two women ran past, smelling of sweat and fear and sex. They didn’t even see me, just ran toward Cass’s room. Then the man appeared. He was small and wiry, with big ears and a twitchy nose—currently dripping sweat. My inner wolf snarled—she liked hunting rabbits, not saving them.

I grabbed him with one hand and hauled him over the banister, then clamped my other hand over his mouth, cutting off his yelp before it could leave his throat.

“Riley Jenson, Directorate,” I whispered, my lips so close to his ear I could almost taste the blood from a bullet wound on his neck. My wolf soul ached to rip and tear into the flesh she so often hunted up in the hills of Macedon, but the vampire wasn’t having anything to do with his foul stench. And that in itself was a reason to celebrate, given the sudden swing in my DNA toward vampire.

“If you want to live,” I added, “get under that bed and stay there.”

He, like Cass, scrambled to obey. Jack said into my ear, “Riley, we need them alive if it’s possible.”

“Boss,” I murmured, hoping like hell the wolf was far enough away not to hear me, “I’ve only been away for a few months. I’m not that rusty.”

Nor was I that much of a killer. I hoped.

“Do you need assistance?” he added.

I hesitated. Assistance meant calling in either Rhoan or Iktar, and the reality was, there’d be no chance of either of them getting here before the action was over—even if they were in the city. And I doubted my brother was.

“No. I’m fine.”

“Okay. I’ve ordered the cleanup team to your location. They’ll be there in twelve.”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. The bird-shifter was now far too close, his scent tainting the air with its sharpness.

The sound of a gunshot ripped across the tense semi-silence, and I half jumped. But the shot had not been aimed at me. It hadn’t even been fired by the shifter on the stairs. It had come from the ground floor, from either the wolf or whoever was left alive down there.

A heartbeat later, the screaming began again. I flexed my fingers, fighting the urge to help those women. I might be a guardian, I might have the advantage of speed and power, but the reality was it was still two against one, and both of them were armed. And Jack would be pissed if I got myself killed after everything else that had happened over the last few months.

The shifter’s steps were barely audible over the sounds of panic and sobbing. I briefly wondered whether Frankie—the brothel guard who’d apparently had muscles on his muscles—had been the first victim, or whether he was still down there trying to do his job, then stilled the thought as a blond head stepped onto the landing and turned.

I didn’t give him the chance to see me. I simply launched straight at him, one hand grabbing for the arm that held the gun. I hit him waist-high and we went down hard, his body cushioning mine. He reacted as any trained fighter would—with power and quickness. His fist pounded into my side so hard it felt like concrete, and it was all I could do to hang on to the arm that held the gun. He hit me again, and something inside me cracked. I swore and flicked an elbow upward, smashing it under his chin and driving his bottom jaw up into his top. On a human, such a blow would have broken his jaw, but this man was not human, and we were bred tougher. He spat out some bloody teeth and grabbed me one-handed, rolling me around so that he was on top.

“Let go of the gun, my pretty,” he said, his breath like dead meat, “or I’ll be forced to break something else.”

“Try it, and I’ll break you.”

He chuckled and raised his fist. I bucked my body, lifting him off me far enough to get one leg underneath him. Before he could release his weapon, he came down, balls first, onto my knee. Air exploded from his lungs and he went an odd shade of puce.

I ripped the gun from his grasp, smashed the butt of it over his head to knock him out, then dumped him off me.

Only to hear another set of footsteps coming up the stairs.

Crap.