Silence.
“Arch? Are you receiving? Over?”
Nothing. And then the radio crackled to life. “Send backupn—”
The message ended so abruptly, for a split second no one moved.
Then Aaron was off, sprinting down the street in the direction of Blake’s house, shifter speed propelling him much faster than a human.
His sole focus was on getting to Michael.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Blake raised his hands as he walked towards them.
“I said stop,” Miller yelled, gun steady and aimed at Blake’s chest.
This time Blake complied. “This is private property. What the fuck are you doing on it.”
Michael hadn’t run into him in person before, not this close, anyway. He was huge—well over six foot tall, with shoulders like a tank. No wonder White hired him for protection. “We have a warrant to search the property.”
Michael reached into his pocket and pulled it out.
Blake remained where he was, making no effort to take the paper from him. “You’re a long way from home, boys.” He glanced behind them, a slow smile appearing when he realised they were on their own.
Michael kept a neutral expression, but inside his heart began to race. They had to assume Blake was armed. The hoodie he wore revealed nothing, and it was too dark to ascertain if there were any telltale bulges under it. He took a step closer. “Are you armed?” he asked.
Blake grinned. “Why don’t you come see?”
Fuck’s sake. Why did he have to be such a wanker about it? Michael was a crack shot, and he was only fifteen feet away. He could put one in him before Blake even got a hand on his gun or whatever he had under there. “Take your jacket off and throw it away from you, then get face down on the ground, arms above your head.” With his gun still trained on Blake, he said to Miller. “Go pat him down. I’ll cover you.”
Rolling his eyes, Miller mumbled, “Yes, sir,” in the most sarcastic tone ever, and holstered his gun.
And yes, they were the same rank, but someone had to go check him for weapons. Miller should’ve spoken up sooner if he didn’t want the job.
When Blake made no move to do as they asked, Michael sighed. It was going to be a long fucking night. He just hoped backup arrived soon. Even a guy as tough as Blake looked had to be a little freaked out being with two shifters on a full moon night. Maybe that was why he was over here instead of watching over White. Michael hoped he wasn’t unnerved enough to do something stupid.
“I said on the ground.”
This time Blake complied, and Miller had just about reached him when Michael’s radio crackled to life.
“Arch?” Frank hissed, voice frantic. “Arch? You there?”
What the fuck’s happened?
He motioned for Miller to wait. Not taking his eye off Blake, he reached for his radio. “Archer. Go ahead. Over.”
“Thank fuck,” Frank muttered. “Stay where you are. Do not go into the property. Over.”
“What—”
“I repeat do not go into the property. We found Wilson almost dead, no sign of White.”
Oh fuck.
He and Miller glanced up at the house, the action instinctual. They only looked away for a fraction of a second, but it was enough for Blake to jump up—lightning quick—and grab Miller in a chokehold.
The gun pressed hard against Miller’s temple was the only thing that stopped Michael from shooting him.
