Pepper! Get the hell away from him. He’s killin’ you. Can’ you see that? You did your job. I’ve got my hands full and I can’ get you away from him myself. Back off, go to the girls. Look at them, not at the enemy.
The tenderness was replaced by the commander. Ordinarily she would never have disobeyed an order – especially not if Wyatt gave it. This was different. She wasn’t going to allow this man to die alone. She didn’t have that in her.
Without warning, Wyatt stalked across the room and dragged her to her feet, yanking her blouse closed so that her full breasts were out of sight. Blood smeared the material – Malichai’s blood – she could smell it. She refused to look up at Wyatt. She couldn’t face him. Couldn’t face the censure. Or the disgust.
“He’s gone, Pepper. Get to the girls.”
She already knew the soldier was gone. She’d never stopped looking into his eyes. She saw the life fade away, heard that last rattle as his body struggled against the venom. Without a word she stepped over him and hurried down the hall to stand in front of the door to the nursery where her daughters lay sleeping. She wouldn’t go inside. She wouldn’t contaminate them – bring something sick and evil into their sleeping place. She stood there with silent tears running down her face, but the gun was steady in her hands.
Ezekiel leapt into the air, ran up the side of the house and jumped onto the back of one of the soldiers attacking him. His powerful thighs closed like a vise around the man’s neck while his knife bit deep into first the throat, then the ear and finally the artery along the neck. He stabbed dozens of times, trying for the soft places that might stop the soldier’s forward momentum toward the door.
He’d already broken one blade, and his gun seemed useless. The soldiers barely paid attention to him, they were so fixated on the house. Every other soldier was used for distraction, for fodder. These three were meant to retrieve or kill the three girls or Pepper. Maybe all of them. One had already slipped inside. One was at the door. He had the biggest.
Dozens of stab wounds and the soldier wasn’t even staggering yet. It made no sense. He didn’t appear to feel pain at all. Whatever Braden had given his supersoldiers to kill the pain and exterminate the fear factor was working.
Another one getting into the house. I could use a little help here, Ezekiel said.
The soldier reached back at him, knife in fist, trying to plunge the blade in Ezekiel’s thigh. Ezekiel was forced to catch the man’s thick wrist and turn the knife away from him. He leapt from his back, landing low in a crouch.
Coming in now, Trap advised.
He shot through the columns, feet first, flying through the air to catch the soldier entering the house just as he was starting to pull open the door. The force of his flying double kick drove the soldier back to the rail. He teetered there for a moment and then fell over it headfirst. Unfortunately the drop wasn’t that far, but he landed hard enough that it shook the ground.
Draden was waiting, crouched low on the other side of the railing, his gun out. As the soldier fell, he fired rapidly. Throat. Eyes. Ears. He got a lucky break and the soldier flung one arm out and he managed to fire three times into the exposed armpit. With each shot, he backed away, kicking the man’s weapons away.
Trap landed in the middle of the porch on the balls of his feet and kept moving, straight toward Ezekiel and his monster of a soldier. At the last second, he hit the ground sliding, his momentum carrying him under the soldier, sweeping the big man’s legs out from under him. The soldier went down hard, his gun pointed up in the air, bullets spitting loudly in the night.
Trap drove his knife deep into the soft parts of the body, and the bullets kept coming, although now the soldier was getting his weapon under control. Ezekiel went under the short automatic, his hands around the soldier’s wrist, trying to gain some control. The bullets kept coming.
Trap swore, something rose in him, pouring ice into his veins, slowing time and allowing an absolute, utter calm so his brain could take over. He used his knife on the hand holding the gun, a ruthless, brutal act, and there wasn’t a single cell in his body that even flinched.
Draden was there, shooting the man in all the soft parts of his face and neck, the only vulnerable spots on him. When he finally was still, the silence of the night took over.
All clear, Mordichai reported from above. They’re all down.
Make certain, Trap directed. Every last one of them. And then get them in the big boat. We’re taking them back to Braden and using his own crematorium to get rid of them. I wouldn’t mind five minutes alone with that bastard.
Ezekiel took a deep breath. Wyatt? Malichai?
He’s good, breathin’. He’ll need to sleep off the anesthesia for some time. Nonny knows what to do. I’m gettin’ ready to join you and I’m bringin’ out another one.
One got in the house while you were operating? Ezekiel demanded.