Mikhail was out on the passenger side, using the crumpled hood as partial cover, face still blank as he sent controlled fire toward the road. Juvie had posted up behind a tree, eyes cold,determined grin gone. He looked young as hell until he fired. Then he looked like what Real and Maxim and I had helped turn him into.
Ruthless.
Bullets tore bark from the tree over my shoulder. I returned fire and saw one shooter dive behind his SUV.
“Three left,” Mikhail called.
“Four,” Juvie corrected.
He was right. There was movement in the trees to our left. I moved, too, sliding in the ditch, but managing to stay upright. The shooter popped out, eyes on Juvie and Mikhail, probably thinking the big nigga from the backseat wouldn’t move quick enough.
He was wrong.
I hit him low first, smiling as his knee folded wrong. I closed the distance between us. Before he could scream, my second shot took him in the throat. I was close enough that blood, hot and thick, sprayed across my hand. I had no time to celebrate. I turned back toward the road just as one of the SUVs’ back doors opened and another man dragged out something black and round.
My stomach dropped. I barely had time to yell, “Smoke!” before the canister sailed and landed just short of us. Clouds of smoke hissed out. They were giving themselves cover, trying to blind us, then close in. Very professional. They wanted to get close enough to take someone alive. A little thrill slid through me despite the situation. A twisted part of me liked when people I had to put down were good competition. Whoever they were, they had come correct.
Too bad for them, so had we. We wouldn’t be losing anyone today.
“Mikhail, my right!” I ordered.
“Da.”
“Juvie, with me.”
We moved through the smoke by sound more than sight. I heard a muttered curse in a language that wasn’t English. I recognized the Russian immediately.
Well, well, well.
I made out the outline of one shape first and fired three times toward its middle. I heard a grunt and then a heavy thud. Juvie got the next before I even saw him, two quick pops and a body collapsed by the roadside.
The final shooter broke from cover, sprinting back toward the remaining SUV. He was almost there when Mikhail stepped out of the haze, all calm and focused, and put a bullet in the back of his head.
Finally, it was quiet.
My chest rose and fell hard as I scanned the road, looking for any more movement. One SUV was idling, half in the road, the driver dead across the wheel. Mikhail’s shots had wrecked the other, its front tire shredded.
Juvie wiped at his cheek where a bullet graze had opened his skin. “Damn. Bet you Real and Thickums won’t top that wedding send off.”
I ignored that. “You hit?”
He shook his head. “Just the little kiss on the cheek. You Russians so affectionate sometimes.”
I looked at Mikhail. He glanced down at the blood on his sleeve. “It is not mine, sir.”
Good. I jogged back to the Yukon. Theory had not stayed exactly where I left her. Of course she hadn’t. She was half up now, eyes huge, breathing hard, one hand pressed to the glass as she searched for me. The second she saw me, her whole face changed. She was mad, scared, and relieved all at once. I yanked open the door.
“You hurt?”
“I told you I’m okay!” she snapped, but her voice cracked on the last word.
I unbuckled her and pulled her into my arms. She came. For one second, she leaned into my chest and held on tight as hell. Then she shoved me back.
“What the fuck was that?” she yelled.
I looked over her head at Juvie and Mikhail. “Call for help, and cleanup if you haven’t. Check bodies, phones, IDs, everything.”
They moved off without a word.
