"Roger that - "
"John, you don't go out there alone," V said. "I'll watch the back door as well as our host. "
"What if they come through the opening?" Qhuinn asked.
"I'll pick 'em off one by one. "
Hard to argue with the guy. Especially as the Brother trained his second gun right where Qhuinn and John had been shooting through.
That was the end of any further convo.
John and Qhuinn fell into flanking position and took off together. Using the moonlight as a guide, they streaked through the professionally equipped kitchen, and tried every door they came to. Locked. Locked. Locked.
The dining, living, and family rooms turned out to be one massive expanse, kind of like a football field that had been outfitted at a home show. The good news was that there were ornate columns at regular intervals that supported the ceiling over the expanse, and he and Qhuinn used them for cover as they darted out, checked sliding glass doors, and ducked back again.
Everything was locked: As they worked the circle of the giant room, shit was tight as a tick on all sides. But God, all that glass. . .
Stopping short, he leveled his gun muzzle at a stretch of it, whistled twice to signal to V. . . and popped off a test shot.
No shattering. Not even a cracking. The ten-by-six-foot pane simply caught the bullet and held it, like the thing was nothing more than ABC gum.
Assail hadn't lied. At least not about that.
From the back of the house, their host's voice was distant but clear. "Close and lock the door at the base of the stairs to the second floor. Fast. "
Roger. That.
John let Qhuinn sweep the bathrooms and the office as he beat feet over to a black-and-white marble staircase. Sure enough, tucked into the wall was a stainless-steel, fireproof panel that, when you pulled it out, smelled like fresh paint, as if it had been recently installed.
There were two locks on it, one so you could isolated yourself upstairs, one for doing the same downstairs.
As he got the thing into place and secured, he had to have some respect for how Assail handled security measures.
"This place is a fortress," Qhuinn said as he came out of another bathroom.
Cellar? John mouthed so he didn't have to reholster his gun.
Like he read minds, Assail called out, "The basement door is locked. It's in the kitchen by the second fridge. "
They darted back in the direction they'd started out in, locating another one of those steel jobbies that happened to already be slid into place and bolted.
John checked his phone, and saw the group text that Rhage had sent out: Hvy fghtn dwntwn - b thr ASAP.
Fuck, he breathed as he flashed the screen to Qhuinn.
/> "I'm going out there," the guy announced as he jogged for one of the sliders. "Lock the door after me - "
John lunged for the fighter, snagging a hold. The hell you are, he mouthed.
Qhuinn shook off the iron grip. "This is a cluster-fuck waiting to happen, and Wrath has to be taken to the clinic. " As John cursed in silence, Qhuinn shook his head. "Be reasonable, buddy. You're the backup for V with Assail, and the pair of you have to keep the interior secured. Likewise, that van has to get moving because the king's bleeding. You need to let me go out there and do what I can to secure the area - we can't spare anybody else. "
John cursed again, his mind churning for other options.
In the end, he clapped his best friend on the side of the neck and brought their foreheads together for a brief moment. Then he let go and backed the fuck off - even though it nearly killed him.
Bottom line, his first duty was to save the king, not his best friend. Wrath was the mission critical here, not Qhuinn.
Besides, Qhuinn was a deadly son of a bitch, fast on his feet, good with a gun, great with a knife.