Leopard's Rage (Leopard People 12)

Flambé shrugged. “Once or twice it was necessary. He’s very good at making people disappear. I had considered availing myself of his services at one point. I was waiting for you.”

Technically, there was no lie there either. Blaise would hear the ring of truth. Matherson was on the other end of Shanty’s wire. He would hear it as well. Both men would think that Basil Andino’s mate, Karisa, had gone to Drake Donovan and he’d protected her by sending her to some undisclosed location. In truth, Karisa was very safe, long gone in the route Flambé had established and used very sparingly and only when absolutely necessary. Only four women aided her with that route and she used a special scent blocker perfected just for her by Charisse Mercier from New Orleans.

For the first time, Flambé felt just a little amused. She could see a hint of frustration on Blaise’s face. He believed her. He wanted the entire mess over with, almost more than she did. Terry was casting little warning glances over his shoulder, which meant his gut was telling him something wasn’t right. He’d always had good instinc

ts. He wanted them finished so he could get Shanty out of there.

“Will Donovan be able to hide me from Reiner?” There was real desperation in Shanty’s voice. Real panic welling up in her eyes. On her face. She was going to lose it in another minute.

Flambé instinctively took a deep breath to try to breathe for both of them.

They’ve got Reiner Jacobs safe. He is with the rescue team. He is safe and unharmed. Sevastyan’s voice was calm and oh-so-welcoming in her ear. I repeat, Jacobs is safe and with the rescue team. Get inside with Shanty now, Flambé.

That was a clear order and one she would have no trouble obeying. A smile broke out on her face. She leaned close to Shanty, caught her hand and squeezed hard. “Safe. Unharmed. They have him.” She stood up and tugged Shanty to her feet. “Run.”

Flambé was already in motion, running for the front door. It was already wide open, Kirill and Matvei stepping outside with automatic weapons to protect them as the two women sprinted across the porch.

Blaise flung himself down on the ground, using the corner of the verandah column as cover, aiming his gun at Shanty. Flambé paused just long enough to allow Shanty to get in front of her, her body blocking the woman from Blaise’s aim just as Kirill and Matvei laid down covering fire.

Terry and Jet had no idea what was going on or who the enemy was. Both men had weapons out, but as exposed as they were, they had the presence of mind to go down to the ground with their hands out in a sign of surrender.

Blaise rolled under the corner of the verandah, kicked off his shoes, stripped fast, and shifted. His leopard crawled under the house to the other side and ran full out to where two SUVs with Matherson and the crews of ten shifters waited on an old little-used dirt back road behind the property.

All of the shifters were out of the vehicles, weapons ready, prowling around, looking as if they were in a high state of awareness. Blaise shifted, uncaring of his nudity. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

“Where is she?” Matherson demanded. “What happened?”

“She ran. She and that fucking woman ran into the house. It was some kind of setup. I thought you had it covered,” Blaise snapped.

Matherson immediately whipped out his phone and texted. “They can kill her husband now, that lying, double-crossing bitch.” He stared down at his phone. Blinked. Stared. Texted repeatedly. Swore.

“We gotta go now,” Blaise repeated. “Right now.”

Matherson shot him between the eyes and watched the body drop to the ground. “Let’s go get that little bitch. Both of them,” he shouted, waving his gun. He signaled his crew toward the house in the distance.

Like wraiths emerging from shadows high up in the trees, ghostly men dressed in combat gear appeared, guns aimed at those on the ground. “Drop your weapons.” Sevastyan gave the order in his usual calm, very quiet manner.

“Fuck you,” Matherson yelled and lifted his automatic, spraying the trees.

Immediately chaos broke out as for the next three minutes hell reigned. There was nowhere for those on the ground to hide from the barrage of return bullets coming at them and Matherson had made it impossible to surrender. Within three minutes it was once again quiet and those on the ground were either dead or dying.

Sevastyan leapt from the tree, Zinoviy and Vikenti flanking him, while Zakhar stayed close, making it clear he was acting as a bodyguard. Sevastyan gave him an annoyed warning look, but as usual, Zakhar ignored him.

The other team members came out of the trees as well, checking the downed shifters for any signs of life while Sevastyan went straight to Matherson.

“You really could be the devil, Matherson,” Sevastyan greeted, seeing he was alive.

Franco Matherson had been shot in both his shoulder and leg. The shoulder was shattered, but the leg wound looked no more than superficial. No one could be that lucky. His weapon had been flung some distance from him and he’d lain as if dead among the bodies, probably hoping no one would notice he was alive so he could slink off.

Matherson groaned but didn’t respond.

“Sevastyan,” Zakhar warned.

Sevastyan had scented the two strange shifters coming up behind them. In spite of many guns trained on them, they kept walking toward the group with easy, ground-covering strides. Both men were tall and dark-skinned. They had the roped muscles and easy fluid, flowing movements of the shifters. They were very much at ease as they walked right up to Sevastyan and bowed slightly to him.

“I am Luan. This is my brother, Arno. We’ve come a long way to find this man and bring him to justice. He has committed many crimes against our people. He has brought disgrace to our lair. I ask that you allow us to administer the final justice to him. We have to answer to the elders and our lair.”

Matherson shook his head. “I stayed away from the lair. I didn’t go near any of the women.”