“Get everybody somewhere safe,” she growled as she sped past Joseph and the other guys.
Jayna hoped the oldest werewolf in the pack was up for the task because all she could think about right then was saving Megan.
*
Becker had just cut the engine and was letting the Escalade coast down the Stones’ gravel driveway when he heard the gunshot. He threw open the door and was running for the house before the SUV came to a stop.
He slowed and dropped to one knee, reaching for his off-duty Sig 9mm he always kept clipped inside the top of his motorcycle boot. And swore. Before going undercover, he’d locked his weapon in his gun safe in his apartment, and in all the craziness of the past couple days, he hadn’t gotten it out.
Cursing his stupidity, he headed for the front door of the house, fully intending to kick it in and start tearing people apart with his bare hands. But one glance in the living room window stopped him. He could see Liam standing in the kitchen, a gun in his hand and a body on the floor, thick, red blood pooling beside it.
Becker’s heart stopped. He couldn’t see who’d been shot, but his mind was filling in the blanks.
Jayna.
He grabbed the doorknob and started to turn but forced himself to stop and take a breath. Even though everything in his body screamed for him to get the hell in there, he knew it wouldn’t do any good to rush in without a weapon or a plan.
As he paused, he realized the person on the floor wasn’t Jayna. He could hear Jayna’s heartbeat going nice and strong. Damn. It was Megan. She was too tiny to take a wound that serious. He could hear her heart beating, but it was weak.
Becker could hear Jayna and Liam arguing about something. He’d hoped his pack would get here in time to set up some kind of entry plan. But when he heard Liam say something about Jayna betraying him to that fucking cop, quickly followed by a threat to kill her, Becker knew he had to move. There was nothing he could do on this side of the house though, so he darted around to the back.
He got there in time to see Kostandin with his Colt .45 aimed right at Moe’s head. The look on Jayna’s face told Becker everything he needed to know—Kos was about to start shooting.
The hell with a plan.
Becker dug his claws into the wooden frame of the kitchen door, then yanked, letting the rage he usually did a good job of controlling come out with a vicious snarl. Tossing the door aside, he reached in and grabbed the two Albanians nearest the door, pulling them out. He slung one across the gravel courtyard between the house and the barn, then turned back to deal with the second guy. The man twisted in his grip, pointed his MP5 at Becker, and fired.
Becker knocked the barrel aside with a growl, slashing his claws across the Albanian’s throat, ignoring the gurgling noise as the man died. But he was so worried about Jayna and her pack that he didn’t have time to think about it.
Becker spun around just as the first man was getting to his feet and lifting his weapon. For a moment, Becker contemplated diving for the MP5 the now-dead Albanian had been holding, but he didn’t have time. So instead, he flung the body at the first Albanian just as the man pulled the trigger. The move distracted the gunman, letting Becker close the distance between them, then put the Albanian down in the most efficient way he could, regardless of how much blood was spilled.
Snatching up the man’s MP5, Becker checked the magazine, then flipped the weapon’s selector switch one click up from full auto to single-shot semi. He quickly moved to the left, aimed for the first Albanian inside the house he could see clearly, then put a single shot through the guy’s chest. Becker would have preferred to take out Kostandin or Liam, but they wouldn’t oblige by making a nice target of themselves.
All hell broke loose in the kitchen as the rest of the Albanian thugs started shooting in his direction. Becker doubted any of them could see him in the dark, but he sure as hell could see them. He started peppering the Albanians with carefully aimed shots. He wasn’t necessarily looking to hit them, just keep them from going after Jayna and the others.
His plan worked too well. The Albanians came charging out the recently renovated kitchen door, weapons blazing. Becker returned fire, dropping two of the men. But then his ammo ran out.
Shit.
One round clipped his hip, another his right thigh just above the knee. Becker bit back a howl as his leg fractured. The pain only got worse when he was forced to turn and fall back to the barn. He would have rather stuck a fork in his eye than turned tail on those jackasses, especially Kostandin. But trying to stand up against a group of well-armed thugs with nothing but claws and fangs was the definition of stupid, and he liked to think he was smarter than that.