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Shoving his hands into his jacket, Z whistled high and sharp. And then he started pulling out the pins of grenades and throwing themlike he was in the World Series, real wind-up-and-follow-through time.
The first of the explosions lit up the narrow street like daylight, and gave excellent visualization: Half a dozen slayers, who’d been rushing forward without much coordination, pulled a spin and retreat—that wasn’t going to last.
The second blew one of them up, fragments of flesh flying in chunks, the black splatter washing the windowless building next to it. The third drove the others back farther, but was again a reminder that the withdrawal was only temporary. He had one more and then he was going to have to yield his position. He could only pray that his brothers had evac’d the injured and there had been no casualties—
Flashing blue lights.
And headlights.
The Caldwell Police. Of course.
The only good thing was that the slayers scattered like the rats without tails they’d been before Lash had turned them: The Lessening Society didn’t want law enforcement complications any more than the brothers did.
Zsadist turned around and assessed his options. He could head back into the building, but if there were otherlessersin there? No way he could dematerialize. He was off-the-chain activated. No chance of calming down—
Abruptly, he was spotlit like a billboard as one of the two patrol cars came at him like it was going to run him right over.
As he went to jump out of the way, the CPD bot slammed on its brakes and skidded into a swing, its vehicle’s rear coming around so that it stopped with the driver’s side right by Z.
The window went down and—
“What the fuck,” Z breathed.
Butch smiled from behind the wheel. “Hop in. I gotchu.”
Even though it was the middle of a skirmish, Zsadist looked around. “How in the hell did you do this?”
“Hey, I used to work homicide for them, remember?” The cop nodded to the empty seat next to him. “I broke into the impound, got two, and L.W. and Shuli are being put into the other. But we gotta blow right now.”
Zsadist shook his head. “You got it, Detective.”
Shuli knew he was losing blood, but he was still with it enough to know that he was somehow, inexplicably… in the back of a Caldwell Police Department patrol car. The blue lights were a dead giveaway. Well, that and it had showed up at the worst possible time.
The confusing part? For some reason, on the far side of the mesh that separated them from the front seat of the vehicle… it seemed like Rhage was behind the wheel.
But he couldn’t worry about all that.
Summoning his flagging energy, he forced his head out of its awkward lean against the door that had been shut on him. Next to him on the bench seat, L.W. was crammed into the space that barely fit Shuli. The male had his knees up around his earlobes, and he was breathing too hard for how much he wasn’t moving.
“What thehellis wrong with you!” Shuli hollered at the guy.
Up front, Rhage looked into the rear view mirror with a start. “Everything okay back there, boys?”
“No!” Shuli punched L.W.’s upper arm—okay, it was more like a pat with his knuckles, but whatever. “You weren’t supposed to come back for me!”
L.W. looked over with half-mast eyes. “Can we not do this right now?”
“I amsopissed off—”
“You wouldn’t be alive right now without me, so relax—”
“I was supposed to save you!” Shuli tried to lower his voice as his heart rate got erratic against his ribs. “Jesus Christ, you are such a hardheaded asshole—”
“I wasn’t leaving you to die—”
“—that you can’t listen to someone else—”
“—and right now, I am seriously—”
