Omega Force 01- Storm Force (21 page)

Benedict rounded the edge of the
desk faster than Kell would have imagined possible, but
by the time his hands closed around Kell’s neck, the
Smith & Wesson was pressed into his gut.

The big man grinned and stepped
back, throwing his hands in the air. “How much do you know about Dire Wolves,
Sergeant Kellison?”

Kell aimed
the gun slowly and deliberately, bracing his right wrist with his left hand.
“Enough to know that even the biggest wolf’s heart can’t survive a close-range
shot with a large-caliber weapon.”

“Unfortunately, that’s true.”
Benedict knelt and tied his shoelace, looking up as he spoke.

Kell
tracked his movement with the gun, but wasn’t prepared when Benedict lunged
forward with a head butt to Kell’s groin. He had the
dizzying sensation of flying in reverse before they hit the floor. The gun
clattered across the hardwood, out of reach.

Holy fuck
. This was definitely
not on the script.

Benedict rose off him and stepped
back, motioning for Kell to get to his feet. Kell struggled upright, reaching for the combat knife in
his right pocket as he stood. He’d just touched it with his fingertips when
Benedict spun him around and locked a meaty arm across his throat from behind,
pressing his windpipe until the room turned gray.

“Looks like our Emory forgot to
mention something, the careless bitch. A human and a Dire
going one-on-one in a fight?” Benedict sounded downright cheerful again
as he leaned in to whisper in Kell’s ear while his
arm continued to squeeze. “Human’s never going to win that one. Oh, and I
discovered something very interesting about you in my background check, Kellison.”

 “Yeah, what’s that?” The rasp of Kell’s lungs trying to suck in air through his crushed
trachea sounded deafening from inside his head. Choking out those few words
hurt like hell.

“You’ve had a little back problem,
as I understand it. I might be able to help.”

The arm across his throat
disappeared. Kell gulped in a few huge, desperate lungfuls of air before Benedict grabbed his shoulders and
slammed him, back first, into the desk at the perfect angle.

The sharp corner of the desk corner
dug into Kell’s lower back with a sickening crack.
Again, the room grew gray, but Kell fought it off. He
had to stay conscious if he had any hope of surviving.

Benedict released Kell’s shoulders, and he slid to the floor, coming to rest
on his side. The pain shooting in all directions from his lower back was his
friend, he kept reminding himself. The pain was the only thing keeping him
conscious.

“Did that help? Maybe we should try
it again.” Benedict stood over Kell, looking down
with arrogant mirth. “Or better still, maybe we should get Mori here. See what
kind of deals
she’s
offering. I bet
she’d fuck me in front of you if I’d agree to let you go, don’t you agree?”

While Benedict talked, Kell worked his fingers slowly to his right pocket and
clenched them around the hilt of the knife. Praying Benedict was too intent on
his taunting to notice, he slid the weapon out slowly and gathered up all the
energy he could muster for one final surge.

With a feral snarl worthy of a wolf,
Kell lunged upward with the knife, aiming for
Benedict’s femoral artery. If he missed and stabbed the son of a bitch in the
balls, so be it.

But the knife hit true, slicing
through Benedict’s trouser leg like it was butter, digging into his thigh until
its hilt hit skin. The bleeding was instant and heavy.

The toe of Benedict’s shoe smashed
into Kell’s gut, sending him sliding several feet
across the floor, robbing him of air again. The room grayed. The gray deepened.

The last thing Kell
witnessed before it all went black was Benedict falling and, in his place, the
biggest goddamn wolf he’d ever seen.

The
closer she and Robin got to Galveston, the more Mori fidgeted and imagined what
they might find. Kell dead and Michael unharmed. Both of them dead. Kell maimed or injured
so badly he couldn’t recover.

She couldn’t forget what he’d told
her at the hotel in Baytown about his back injury. He’d put up with the pain
because he wasn’t willing to risk paralysis, and she’d gotten the impression he
feared being incapacitated more than being killed.

“This interstate is surreal.” She
was driving Nik’s SUV since Robin had said she didn’t
like Houston traffic. But with the cars all headed in the opposite direction,
that excuse didn’t quite ring true. This vehicle was big, however, and Mori
suspected her petite new friend couldn’t reach the gas pedal.

Besides, driving gave her something
to focus on other than what might be happening in Galveston. Gator, pacing back
and forth in the backseat with an occasional high-pitched whine, seemed to pick
up her mood.

“Coming back’s going to be a bitch.”
Robin pointed to the northbound lanes, which were at a standstill.

“I’ve been thinking about that. We
can take the ferry if it’s still running, skip the interstate altogether.”

Robin turned sideways in her seat,
eyes wide. “I love ferries. We use them a lot in New Orleans to cross the
river. I didn’t know Houston had any.”

Mori smiled. “Not Houston, but
Galveston. There’s a ferry that runs back and forth between the eastern tip of the island to the Bolivar Peninsula. Then it’s an
easy drive from there into Louisiana.” She’d taken that trip a lot, looking for
the deserted stretches of narrow beach to shift and run along, or letting her
wolf explore the miles of wildlife refuge near Cameron, just over the Louisiana
state line.

There would be no stopping to frolic
today. She had a bad feeling about what they might find, but at least she and
Robin had been of one mind. It had been hard to let Kell
bark out orders and make plans, knowing they had no intention of following
them. But she thought one of her grandfather’s old sayings applied here: it was
easier to ask for forgiveness than permission.

On that, she and Robin had agreed
instantly last night. “He always says because I’m small, I can’t help him, even
though he knows I’m physically stronger than him,” she’d said while packing
food. “Jack Kellison, in case you haven’t figured it
out yet, is a stubborn, misogynistic oaf. Thought I’d save you some time by
telling you. You’d have figured it out eventually.”

Robin had whispered the entire time
they loaded pantry items into bags for the trip. She’d talked strategy, asked
questions about Michael, and assured Mori that they’d help Kell
whether he asked for it or not. “I’ve gotten kinda
attached to the bossy old goat, so we’re going to save him from himself. That’s
why I’m following him to Galveston. I don’t have to ask why you want to help
him. It’s all over your face whenever you look at him. Kind of makes me want to
hurl.”

Mori didn’t know how to respond to
that, so she just shrugged.

By the time they’d finished loading
the SUV and driven out of downtown Houston, Kell had
a thirty-minute head start. Thirty minutes alone with Michael was plenty of
time for things to fall apart.

Because of the dearth of traffic on
the southbound interstate, the drive to Galveston went quickly, according to
the time on the dashboard clock. According to the tension building in Mori’s
gut, it had taken way too long. Finally, she reached Seawall Boulevard.

Robin craned her neck to see out the
windows on Mori’s side. “Man, look at those waves. I’d have trouble flying in
this shit already, and the storm’s still pretty far offshore.”

Mori had ridden out both Rita and
Ike at the Quad-D. Michael had been there, of course. Hovering.
Possessive. Now, it was easy to look back and see how
obsessed he’d become with her as she grew older. At the time, it was just
Michael being Michael.

Nothing looked amiss at the Tex-La
building. Mori drove into the back lot and spotted Michael’s sedan and a shiny
black pickup. “Is that Archer’s truck?”

“Yep.”
Robin hopped out as soon as Mori pulled into the space between the vehicles,
and was halfway to the back door before she climbed out.

Damn, but the little eagle was fast.

Mori said a few calming words to an
agitated Gator before locking him inside the vehicle, leaving the windows open
enough to get him some air, and making sure his water bowl was open and within
reach. With any luck, they wouldn’t be here long.

Robin waited for her at the door.
“Think there’s an alarm on it?”

Michael was too arrogant to think
anyone might break in, and she’d bet he hadn’t brought in extra security on a
Saturday, either. He wouldn’t consider Kell enough of
a threat to warrant the expense.

“My guess would be that it’s not
even locked.” Mori reached out and grasped the handle, pulling it open. “See? After you.”

She followed Robin inside, shivering
as the air-conditioning enveloped her. After the dry, hot air outside, it felt
like walking into a meat locker. “Third floor,” Mori said. “Elevator
or stairs?”

“Better do stairs. It’s quieter.”
They found the stairwell and started to climb. Halfway between the second and
third floors, a crash sounded from somewhere above them.

“Gotta be Michael’s office.” Mori took the remaining
stairs two at a time, with Robin close behind. “It’s to the left when we get to
the top.”

“Don’t rush in.” Robin stayed her
hand as Mori reached for the hallway door handle. “We have to go slow, make
sure we don’t stumble in and make things worse.”

Slow
sounded like the worst idea in the world. Mori’s sense of foreboding had grown
with every mile as they grew closer to Galveston. She’d written it off as
paranoia and fear for Kell. But even a paranoiac was
right sometimes.

Robin was the one with the military
training, however, and Mori respected that. She hoped she’d get a chance to
kick back at Kell’s cabin and learn more about how an
eagle-shifter got tied up with this quasi-military bunch of guys. Between her
and that hope, however, stood whatever situation lay at the end of this floor.

“Shit.” Robin looked up at her as
soon as they stepped into the hallway. A strong reek of blood wafted from the
other end of the corridor.

“Michael’s
office.” Mori mouthed the words, and Robin nodded. As they crept closer
to the office door, their decision not to bring weapons struck Mori as foolish.
They’d agreed that since they’d both need to shift if forced to fight, their
weapons could just as easily end up in the hands of Michael or one of his
thugs. Still, Mori would have felt better walking in that office with something
lethal.

They stopped outside the office door
for a second, exchanging glances that said everything
and nothing. Robin’s plan had been to stick her head in, see if Kell was in trouble, and if not, try
to slip out unseen. They’d drive on to Louisiana, and he’d be none the wiser.
If Kell or Michael saw her, she’d improvise.

Unless Kell
was in real trouble, Mori had reluctantly agreed to stay out of sight.

The door stood open, so they could
see the portion of the office visible from the hallway. Michael’s big desk sat
empty, but the blood scent was definitely coming from this room. Mori could
tell some of it was human blood — but some of it wasn’t.

She nodded at Robin, who stepped
forward and cautiously peered around the doorjamb into the long rectangle of
the office. Then she stepped in fully, her sudden flare of agitation scraping
across Mori’s skin like sandpaper. Robin was ready to shift.

Mori pushed past her into the
office. Her heart stopped at the sight of the enormous wolf, Michael’s wolf,
standing over Kell.

God, what if he was already dead?
What if they were too late?

“Michael.” Her hands shook, but she
managed to keep her voice strong, commanding his wolf to listen. She’d never
used her own wolf to hurt or to fight. That was about to change.

Slowly, Michael’s wolf raised his
massive head and bared his teeth. Mori had seen him in wolf form, of course,
but never in the confines of an office. He was almost six feet long from nose
to tail and almost waist-high on an average human. He dominated the room.

While the wolf focused on Mori,
Robin circled the office behind him, trying to get a look at Kell. She nodded, and Mori breathed again. He was still
alive.

She wanted to keep the wolf’s focus
on her. “Your fight is with me, Michael. Not with him. We’ll go back to Houston
and work it out.”

She didn’t mean a word of that
nonsense, and the wolf’s snarl said he knew it. The good news was she’d spotted
the source of the wolf blood she’d scented. A deep wound in the right haunch
bled freely. Her guess would be that, somehow, Kell
had gotten a knife at just the right spot to nick an artery. Michael would have
to shift back to human form to heal.

For the longest time, none of them
moved. Mori feared if she did anything sudden — or anything at all — Michael’s wolf
would take a bite out of Kell. She had no idea how
badly he was hurt, but he hadn’t moved since she and Robin had arrived.

Behind the wolf, Robin had already shifted,
her eagle stepping daintily out of the clothes left crumpled on the floor. But
she hadn’t squawked or otherwise moved. She simply watched the wolf and Kell with sharp, intelligent eyes.

Kell
started the train in motion, and then it rolled downhill fast. He groaned back
into consciousness and tried to roll onto his back, only to find himself
trapped between the front legs of the wolf. He turned his head from side to
side, paused for a second at the sight of Mori, then reached up and tried to
jab his thumbs in Michael’s eyes. All the while, he’d been thrusting his legs
in different positions, trying to leverage himself away from the snapping teeth
of Michael’s wolf.

He wasn’t fast enough, and there was
another momentary pause as the wolf’s powerful jaws clamped down on Michael’s
left hand, causing him to cry out. Michael’s wolf had bitten, broken skin. Was
it the first bite? The second?

The horrifying idea that Michael
might try to turn Kell into a hybrid jolted Mori out
of her trance.

She shuddered through her own shift,
her released wolf finally raising her head in a howl as Robin’s eagle began an
awkward flying assault on Michael. A heavy, hooked claw caught in his ear and
distracted him enough for Kell to claw his way across
the hardwood and out of snapping distance.

Good, that cleared the path for
Mori.

She crept closer, her wolf tracking
Robin’s movements. She couldn’t attack until Robin was clear. But Michael
caught the eagle first, his jaws snapping down on her wing and slinging her
back and forth like the world’s biggest dog with the world’s oddest chew toy.
Finally, he slung her hard to the right and released her with enough force to send
her through one of the big windows in a shattering of glass, followed by
silence.

Mori was only marginally aware of
the hot air rushing in through the broken glass, or the sudden tang of sea air,
or what might have become of Robin. All her wolf saw was an injured dominant
that needed killing. She leapt without hesitation, knocking Michael to his side
and following him down. Her teeth closed over his throat with a satisfying
snap, his pulse thudding against her lips. She bit down enough to break skin
and shook her muzzle, dragging his head back and forth.

Dire ritual dictated that when a new
dominant attempted to wrest control from the alpha, there always came this
moment. It was the old alpha’s one chance to relinquish control without fighting
to the death. All Michael’s wolf had to do was relax his
muscles and give one short whine.

Mori waited, feeling his pulse race
against her tongue. But instead of relaxing his muscles, he tightened them. He
wanted to fight it out? Then fight they would.

They exploded in a tangle of limbs
and teeth and fur. She had no idea what she was biting — only that if it wasn’t
attached to her, it was fair game. They rolled into the edge of the desk, and
Michael’s wolf took advantage of her cracking her skull against the wood to
back away and regroup.

Not
happening.

She charged again, drawing blood
from a bite to his neck. Pain shot through her left shoulder as he made heavy
contact. The injured haunch was her target, and they rolled back and forth
across the floor, knocking furniture aside and ignoring the glass from the
broken window. Always, she tried to twist herself into biting range of the
injured haunch.

“Mori, hold him still so I can get
off a shot!”

The noise came to her, but the
bloodlust was greater. The weakness lay in the bloody hind limb. She had to
reach it, had to tear it open.

“Mori! Hold
him still!”

The noise filtered through again;
only, this time, she recognized it. Kell’s voice. Kell wanted to kill the
dominant, but that was her job. He was hers.

She pivoted again, at last finding
what she sought. Her teeth sank into the ragged, bleeding wound, and her ears
filled with the howl of the alpha before the world exploded around her in five
sharp pops and the sting of a bullet.