By the time Layla got to the two teens, the girl was trying to get Mikhail up on his feet so they could head for cover.
Layla grabbed the big Russian kid by one shoulder and dragged him to his feet, helping him over to the nearest flower bed. She didn’t want to get trapped there again, but it wasn’t like she had a lot of choices. There was no way she was going to get Mikhail out of there, not while they were getting shot at.
The dark-haired girl slipped herself under Mikhail’s other shoulder and helped Ivy hurriedly move him toward the cover of the stonework, talking to Mikhail in Russian the whole time. Through clenched teeth, Mikhail said something back to the girl in their language, but she ignored him. Knowing Mikhail, it was likely something about wanting the girl to save herself and leave him. What a typical male.
Between the two of them, they got Mikhail to safety. Turning, Layla started shooting at Zolnerov and the two men with him again. Despite being injured and in obvious pain, Mikhail fired in their general direction, too. Another militia soldier went down just as the upper slide of her weapon locked back to the rear. Crap. She was out of ammo. She opened her mouth to tell Mikhail to conserve his, but it was too late for that. He was out, too.
Stomach clenching, Layla turned to regard Zolnerov and the last remaining soldier who now stood with him. The Russian colonel was standing fifteen feet away, a large pistol held casually in his hand as he stared back at Layla. In person, he was even more menacing. He and the soldier had moved around the pool area until they had a clear shot at her, Mikhail, and the dark-haired girl who was currently trying to keep the Russian teen from getting up. As crazy as it sounded, the fact that Zolnerov wasn’t shooting them worried her. What was he up to? Whatever it was, she didn’t think she was going to like it.
“You are not the beast I expected when your American friend told me about you,” Zolnerov said.
Layla flinched. He knew she was a shifter.
“I will very much enjoy putting you in a cage and showing you off,” he added, a sinister smile crossing his face. “Your friend said I would likely need to torture you to get the monster inside you to come out, but after what you have done tonight, you have made me very angry, so I think torturing you will be extremely easy.”
She bit back a growl, furious that Powell had betrayed her and Jayson so completely. There was nothing she could do about it now, though. She and Mikhail might be out of ammo, but she still had to figure out how to get them out of this situation. Not only because of what Zolnerov had in store for her, but also because of what he would almost certainly do to Mikhail and the dark-haired girl.
“You two are about to see some things that you won’t understand,” she said to Mikhail and the girl in a soft whisper. “When I distract them, run. It will be your only chance.”
Mikhail and the girl both shook their heads frantically, but she ignored them as she moved to the side, putting as much distance between her and the teens as she could. Every little bit would give them more time to get away.
Layla set down her empty pistol. If she was going to get out of this, she’d need to use her God-given weapons now. She’d done some hand-to-hand combat training with Landon and Ivy, but it had been mostly defensive stuff, like how to break out of a choke hold or separate from an attacker. Using her claws and fangs in a fight wasn’t something Ivy had taught her yet, probably thinking that the idea of tearing into another person wasn’t something Layla was ready for.
Ivy was right. Layla had never imagined having to do something like that to another person, but at the moment, she was out of options. She had to protect herself, give Mikhail and the girl a chance to escape, and most importantly, get back to Jayson.
Zolnerov and the soldier immediately moved toward her. Layla’s body shifted instinctively, her claws and fangs extending. The night exploded with dozens of sensations as her inner feline came out.
Layla heard Mikhail and the girl gasp. The soldier with Zolnerov, on the other hand, looked terrified. She couldn’t blame him. She must have made one hell of a sight standing there with her eyes aglow like a cat.
The soldier mumbled something in Russian, then turned and ran in the other direction.
Zolnerov lifted his weapon and shot the man in the back as casually as another person might turn off a light. The soldier fell to the ground, then lay there moaning for a few seconds before finally going still.
The colonel smiled at Layla. While he didn’t have fangs, there was still plenty of menace there. “It’s better this way, don’t you think? Just the two of us?”
He lifted his weapon again, this time aiming it directly at her.
“Your American friend said your kind can survive a lot of damage and heal quickly. I hope he did not lie to me. I would hate to permanently mar such a pretty trophy.”
Chapter 15
If Jayson didn’t move ASAP, he was dead—either at the hands of the guy over by the fireplace or Powell. Unfortunately, he didn’t have many options. Taking a deep breath, he jumped up and vaulted over the couch, doubting either man would expect that. He was right. The hail of bullets that were meant to kill him missed completely.
He hit the marble floor on the other side of the couch in a roll, the twinge of pain in his back a welcome reminder that he wasn’t dead yet. He came up in a crouch, then drilled a long burst of 5.54mm ball rounds through the soldier standing in the western corridor. A clatter of gunfire from his right, along with an explosion of marble fragments, told him that the guy who’d been sneaking up from that side was still there and quickly correcting his aim.
Jayson rolled over the other way and emptied the entire contents of his magazine at the man, sending him backward into the glass enclosure of the fireplace. He didn’t have time to verify if the man was completely out of the fight, though. No doubt Powell was lining up for the kill shot at that very moment.
Jayson dropped his empty assault rifle and rolled to the left, toward Powell, flinching as bullets sliced through the air mere inches above him. By moving closer to Powell, he’d temporarily screwed up the man’s aim and kept the son of a bitch from getting a clean shot. But that trick wouldn’t save him for long. Powell was probably already moving to put himself in a better position to put an ass load of bullets in him.
Jayson reached behind his back and pulled his 9mm, putting three rounds over the top of the couch in the general area he’d last seen Powell. If nothing else, he had a good chance of making the asshole duck at the very least. Then, before he had time to wonder whether it was a good idea or not, he climbed to his feet and leaped back over the same sectional. He could have tried to play hide-and-seek behind the couch, but with ten feet between them, at some point, even a shitty shot like Powell would get off a lucky pop. Jayson would rather take chance out of the equation and get in close to the other man to see if he had the stomach to stand and fight toe-to-toe. Jayson was willing to bet he didn’t.
Powell was just coming up out of his defensive crouch when Jayson slammed into him, taking them both to the floor. In this kind of fight, the pistol Jayson had was better than the submachine gun Powell carried, and he was forced to drop his weapon and focus all his attention on keeping the barrel of Jayson’s gun away from his body.
They struggled there in the middle of the floor, trading punches, head butts, and elbow strikes, both of them grunting and swearing as they tried to kill each other. Even with a weapon in his hand, Jayson couldn’t gain the advantage, but fortunately, neither could Powell.
“Must be nice having your girlfriend out on a mission with you,” Powell sneered. “Getting to bang her whenever you want. So, is Layla a hot lay or what?”
Jayson knew the other man was just talking shit to distract him. That didn’t keep it from working. Cursing, Jayson tried to go for a punch to the throat. The next thing he knew, Powell caught his right arm in an arm bar and got a grip on the pistol at the same time.
