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Logan yanks me back behind the thick tree trunk we’re using as cover, leaning around me to fire three rapid shots that take out one of McKenna’s men before he can deliver a killing blow to the Reaper he just put on the ground.
“Maddoc will get Dante out,” Logan says as the Reaper he just saved rolls back to his feet and shoots Logan a quick nod of thanks before attacking another group of men trying to hold fast at a set of French doors whose glass was shattered in the first wave of attack.
“I know, I know, I just—”
A fucking tsunami of gunfire suddenly erupts behind us, and Logan lets out a long string of curses as he roughly shoves my head down, then quickly scans the area and jerks his chin to the left. “There.”
He ducks low and urges me ahead of him, running toward a low-slung sports car riddled with bullets.
“What the fuck?” I gasp, adrenaline making all my senses feel like they’re on overdrive. “I thought we had the house contained!”
“He called in the mercs,” Logan says grimly, lifting his head up for a moment to scan the area before gripping my arm in an iron hold. “We need to move.”
He lays down cover fire as we rush toward a shed next to the house, taking cover again, but not before I see that he’s right. A wave of hired mercenaries start moving in on the Reapers who surround McKenna’s house, forcing them—us—to go from attacking to defending from both sides.
“They’re boxing us in,” I gasp, panic rising. “How are we supposed to fight through them when Maddoc finally gets Dante out?”
“First things first, wildcat.” Logan says grimly, nudging my gun arm. “Take that fucker by the rose bush out.”
He turns the other way, picking off two of the mercenaries. Trusting me to do my part.
It settles me. I take aim, falling into the training he’s given me, and take the shot.
The bullet slams into the siding behind the West Point bastard Logan just told me to aim for, and the man ducks down with a curse, trying to take cover.
He has none. Just that fucking bush.
I force my breath to stay even, and chamber another round, taking aim again. My heart feels like it’s trying to pound out of my chest. It feels like everything is moving way too fucking fast, like I can’t keep up as Logan forces us to shift positions over and over, sensing threats before I even notice them.
But it also feels like Maddoc has been in that house forwaytoo fucking long, as if time somehow slowed down in there, even as it runs roughshod over all of us out here.
Sun glints off the gaudy gold ring on the West Point gang member’s hand as he swings his weapon around, trying to figure out where my shot came from. The scowl on his face is as dark as the devil and my heart freezes up for a second when I recognize his face.
He was one of the guards on me when Austin held me captive.
He wanted to use all my holes and pass me around like a broken fucktoy.
Fear tries to rise up and choke me, but I force it down hard, breathing out as I push that shit aside and focus on the moment. All that matters is here and now, and clearing a way for Maddoc to get Dante out of that fucking house.
I pull the trigger again.
This time, I hit the fucker, and a triumphant burst of violent satisfaction explodes in my chest.
It’s cut short when Logan slams me back against the shed wall. Hot lead tears a chunk out of the spot right next to us, a mercenary advancing on our position with what looks like a military-grade weapon spitting fire in our direction. Logan’s mouth goes tight. He shoves me over, then shoots to his feet and puts a bullet through the man’s eye.
He drops, and Logan yanks me up. “Move.”
A trio of mercs are right behind the one Logan just took out, and we sprint across the lawn, heading for alternate cover. As we reach it, Logan slams into me with a grunt.
“Fuck,” I pant, my grip tightening on my weapon. “Are you hit?”
“I’m good,” he says gruffly. “But Maddoc had better do whatever he’s going to do in there fast, or we’ll all be dead. The mercs are overpowering us.”
Another volley of gunfire comes from the house, forcing us to shift positions again.
“Run!” Logan shouts, right before punching me in the chest.
I go down to my knees hard, and only realize it wasn’t him—of course it wasn’t him—when I look up and see him covering me, shooting back at yet another group of mercs with a look of deadly rage on his face. He spares me one glance, his eyes scanning me up and down to make sure the bulletproof vest did its job, then nods sharply and pops up to his feet.
