Chapter seven
Mike’s heart froze at the fear in Lark’s voice.
That was the absolutely worst thing he could have done, considering he was in a fight with a supernatural who was somehow faster and stronger than a werewolf.
One second of distraction, and Roman was kicking him in the chest with enough force to send him flying ten feet across the park, where he bounced off the stone monument like a crash test dummy.
He’d barely managed to climb to his feet before Roman was on him again, hitting him in the jaw so hard it broke bone.
Since they were in the middle of a public park, Mike had been trying to keep his inner wolf under wraps.
It was one of the rules the Pack lived by.
Never let anyone see you shift. There had been times in the past when some of his pack mates had pushed that rule to the breaking point, but Mike had always advised caution.
At the moment, though, with both Lark and Kal at risk, Mike understood why his pack mates had never heeded his warnings. People he cared about were in danger. Right then, he didn’t care if someone saw something they shouldn’t. He needed to get the hell out of here and find Lark and Kal.
Now.
Roman came at him with another punch, but this time Mike ducked under it, letting his claws extend as he slashed his right hand across the other man’s chest. Roman let out a roar of pain as he stumbled back. Mike took advantage of the man being off balance, swinging another strike at his face.
Roman avoided this one, but the move left his torso wide open to another attack. Mike obliged, kicking as hard as he could and slamming his right boot into the man’s stomach. The blow lifted Roman off his feet and sent him tumbling to the ground.
The urge to throw himself on the man and finish him was damn hard to resist, but Mike couldn’t waste any more time. He needed to go if he wanted to have any hope of saving Lark and Kal.
Turning, Mike sprinted for the exit, letting his claws retract and mentally pulling up the map of the area around the park, at least what he remembered of it.
Cops were supposed to have a good sense of the area to do their jobs, but Dallas was a big city.
He wasn’t quite sure where Clyde Street was located.
But his instincts drew him in a very definitive direction, and he followed them, trusting them to lead him to where he needed to be.
People scattered out of his way as he ran, but there were lots of people running, so he garnered little attention. Not that he cared. He was too focused on using all of his senses at his disposal to find Lark and Kal.
Mike had just about reached a tall brick wall at the end of Hallsville when he picked up their scents. He spun to the right onto a gravel-covered pathway, immediately catching sight of Lark and Kal about halfway down, between him and the street on the next block.
The three big men surrounded them, one blocking their escape to the next block, two others standing between Mike and his family. The men’s odors left no doubt they were supernaturals.
A small part of Mike wished he had his handgun, or even better, his SWAT-issued M4 carbine.
But those thoughts faded away rapidly as anger began to burn through him and his body began to partially shift, claws extending yet again.
But this time, his fangs did as well, rage pushing them out until the upper canines were extending down well over his lower lip.
For a fraction of a second, he wanted to completely shift and take on his full wolf form.
But even though he was one of the fastest members of the Pack when it came to shifting, he still couldn’t do it in the middle of a run.
He’d have to at least stop and pull off most of his clothes.
Even then, it would take fifteen to twenty seconds before he was in wolf form.
That was way too long in this situation, no matter how much his inner wolf wanted to come out to attack.
But as his claws extended an inch and a half beyond his fingertips, Mike promised it wouldn’t make any difference. He was going to neutralize the men, no matter what he had to do.
Roman’s crew caught sight of him then, weapons turning on him as he sprinted down the gravel pathway toward them. While two of the men focused on him, one stayed where he was, still blocking Lark and Kal’s escape from the alley.
Neither of the two men facing him seemed concerned Mike had claws and fangs and was coming in hot. They simply stood there, waiting for him. Either they’d known he was a werewolf, or they refused to let their alarm show.
The men began shooting at the same time, bracketing Mike in until it was impossible to avoid the rounds coming his way. One ended up grazing his right shoulder, the next hitting him on the left side, right below the ribs. A third grazed his thigh.
The bullet wounds hurt like hell, but Mike ignored the pain. It was obvious from the satisfied looks on their faces that the men expected the gunshot wounds to take him down, and their eyes widened when he simply growled and covered the last dozen yards in a single leap.
He landed atop both the men, sending them crashing to the ground. One of their guns went flying, bouncing through the heavy wrought iron fencing into a neighboring yard. One less gun involved in this scenario couldn’t be a bad thing. Though he’d have to remember to retrieve the weapon later.
From the corner of his eye, Mike caught sight of the third guy trying to drag Kal further down the alley pathway while Lark punched and kicked the man like a whirlwind.
Why didn’t she partially shift? Claws would definitely have helped.
But he had no time to think about it because the two men he’d knocked down had regained their feet and were coming toward him, their moves precise and coordinated, suggesting they’d fought together often.
Between that and their supernatural speed and agility, they were still dangerous as hell, even if one was unarmed.
The man without a weapon lunged forward to engage with Mike, earning the guy a ragged slash across his right forearm.
Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to have any effect on him, because he latched onto Mike, their hands getting a grip on each other’s wrists.
Then they started twisting and yanking, trying to toss each other off balance as the other man lifted his gun to shoot the moment his partner provided him an opening.
Mike twisted to the side as the gun went off, getting in close to the first guy and using his body as a shield as the round slammed into the ground where he’d just been standing.
The man Mike was grappling with tried to put him in a vulnerable position, but Mike refused to let him get the upper hand, even if it felt like he was wrestling a three-hundred-and-fifty-pound defensive lineman.
He risked a glance in Lark’s direction, to see the guy dragging both her and Kal away.
Mike’s heart clenched in fear.
He had to do something.
Another shot rang out, the bullet clipping Mike on the hip. He growled in frustration, knowing that luck was the only reason he hadn’t been injured seriously. He couldn’t keep doing this.
Knowing that putting any distance between him and the man he was using as a shield meant an immediate barrage of gunfire in his direction, Mike lunged forward instead, clamping his fangs down on the man’s exposed shoulder and neck.
The shout the man let out was more than pain. It was rooted in the primal fear of being bitten by a predator possessing a lot of very sharp teeth. He probably thought Mike was trying to rip out his throat.
And if that was what Mike needed to do in order to reach Lark and Kal in time, then he would most definitely do just that.
He wouldn’t like it, but he’d do what he had to do.
Fortunately, that wasn’t necessary. The moment Mike buried his fangs in the guy’s neck the man cared about only one thing—getting away. He released his grip on Mike’s wrist and tried to shove him away.
Mike pulled back, ready to use the man’s panic against him. Planting his hands on the guy’s chest, Mike shoved hard, sending him flying into the wrought iron fence hard enough to bend the metal and crunch more than a few bones.
In one lunge, Mike was on the other man with the gun, grabbing the hand holding the weapon and twisting it violently.
There was a sharp snap, and the guy shouted in pain, dropping the gun.
Mike kicked it aside, then tossed the man into the metal fence next to his buddy, just about putting him through it.
Dismissing both of them from his mind, Mike turned and sprinted down the gravel path where Lark and Kal were still being dragged kicking and screaming. He was ready to tear this last man apart for daring to touch his family.
That rage must have been clear on Mike’s face, because the man took one look at him, threw a quick glance at the two other supernaturals lying smashed up against the fence, and decided to bail. He shoved both Lark and Kal toward Mike, then ran like hell.
“Are you okay?” Mike asked urgently, his fangs and claws retracting as he put a hand on each of their shoulders and looked them over. “Did they hurt you?”
“I’m fine,” Lark said quickly before turning to drop to one knee in front of Kal. “Honey, are you okay?”
Kal nodded. “I’m okay.”
Mike gazed down at their son to see Kal regarding him with an expression that could only be described as awe-filled.
“Dad, is that really you?”
Mike smiled. “It’s really me.”
Kal grinned and hurried over to wrap his arms around Mike, holding onto him tightly.
Mike hugged him back while Lark looked on, her eyes wet with what definitely looked to be happy tears.
And the sensation Mike felt in his chest at that moment was quite possibly the most amazing thing he’d ever experienced.