“You too,” she said softly.
Taking a deep breath, Remy led the way to the door, then grabbed the knob and turned it. Once inside, he and Jess quickly moved through the kitchen toward the living room, where he’d seen Ramirez and the boy.
The kid was still sitting there, bound and gagged, but there was no sign of Ramirez. Remy gave Jess a nod. As one, they checked the rest of the room and the hallway beyond, covering each other at the same time.
Another scream came from the back of the house. Remy immediately headed down the dark hallway toward the sound, Jess at his heels. Charging into a room with three armed fugitives who’d already shown a willingness to kill and as many as four possible hostages was definitely in the category of Bad Ideas. There were so many ways it could go wrong, he couldn’t even count them all. But he didn’t have a choice.
When he got to the door at the end of the hallway, he lifted his foot and kicked it in. The only lights on in the large master bedroom were two small bedside lamps, but even in their dim glow, the scene that met his eyes was horrific. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as he took everything in, his head trying to make sense of what he was seeing.
Jack LaRouche was tied to a big armchair that had fallen over on its side in the corner, his head hanging loosely to the side, blood from his battered and bruised face running down to stain his flannel shirt and the light-colored carpet.
Tammy was lying on the bed, shallow slash marks across her face, her brown eyes filled with horror as she reached her bound hands toward where Cobb stood near the footboard with a girl who couldn’t have been more than ten in his grip.
Ramirez was standing casually in the corner near the husband, a sick smile twisting his ugly face, a knife in one hand and an automatic pistol in the other. There was no sign of Neal or the LaRouches’ third child.
Muttering a curse, Cobb lunged forward and scooped up a big .357 revolver that Remy hadn’t even seen near the bed. Remy leveled his weapon and started to squeeze the trigger only to freeze as Cobb ducked behind the girl. There wasn’t any way Remy could shoot Cobb, not without hitting the girl.
Shit.
Remy had half a second to come up with a plan before Cobb and Ramirez started shooting. Knowing Jess would take care of Ramirez, Remy charged Cobb and the girl he was using as a human shield.
He felt the first bullet hit him somewhere to the right of his belly button, then another higher up on his chest. He was wearing a lightweight Kevlar vest under his shirt, but the first round hit well below the bottom, going right through his stomach. As painful as that shot felt, it was the one to the chest that worried him more. His preference for increased mobility, which meant he sacrificed protection by wearing the lighter Kevlar, had just bitten him in the ass. The ballistic fibers of the vest had failed to stop the fast-moving .357 round. The pain in his chest hadn’t been the hammer punch it should have felt like if the damn vest had done its job. Instead, it felt like he’d been stabbed with a hot poker.
Gritting his teeth against the pain, Remy leaped at Cobb and the girl. She cried out as Remy slammed into them. They all went down in a tumble of arms and legs, hitting the floor hard. Remy grabbed the barrel of Cobb’s gun and shoved it toward the ceiling. Then, making sure the girl was out of the way, he fired a round point-blank into the fugitive’s head.
Remy immediately rolled to the side and came up on his knees, aiming his weapon at the spot where Ramirez had last been standing. At least that’s what he attempted to do. He succeeded for the most part, but his right arm wasn’t very steady and he was moving slower than usual.
Thankfully, Ramirez lay on the floor, unmoving. Jess stood beside the convict, staring at Remy in horror. Fighting a sudden wave of dizziness, he looked down and saw the blood covering his stomach. Okay, maybe he was hurt worse than he’d thought.
He lifted his head to tell her that he was okay, but the words stuck in his throat. As he watched, blood slowly seeped through her blouse on the upper left side, just above the line of her vest. Oh God, she’d been hit too. And she was bleeding really badly.
He was so focused on Jess that he almost didn’t realize Neal was coming out of the bathroom with the LaRouches’ other daughter clamped against his chest. Before Remy could react, the man lifted his gun and shot Jess three times.
Remy swung his weapon on Neal at the same time the girl jabbed her elbow into the man’s gut. Neal lost his grip on her for only a split second as she fought to get away, but it was enough time for Remy to get a shot off.
The round wasn’t well aimed—neither Remy’s arm nor his vision was steady enough for that—but it hit Neal in the shoulder, allowing the girl to get away. Remy squeezed the trigger and didn’t stop until his Glock ran out of ammo and Neal lay dead on the floor.
Remy dropped his weapon and pushed to his feet, but his legs didn’t seem to be taking requests at the moment, so he had no choice but to crawl over to Jess instead. It was less than ten feet, and yet he was gasping for air by the time he reached her.
He ignored the lack of oxygen and the blackness threatening to engulf everything around him, focusing on Jess and her beautiful face. She was bleeding now from more places than he could ever hope to stop, but he tried all the same, pressing one hand to the wound in her chest and the other to a gash in her neck. Then he leaned forward and rested his forehead against hers.
“I told you to watch yourself,” he whispered.
Unbelievably, her blue eyes fluttered open and stared up into his. “I’m…sorry.”
He shook his head, trying not to cry but unable to stop the tears. “Stop it! It’s going to be okay. I know it in my gut, and like you always say, my instincts are never wrong. Never!”
Jess smiled at that. A moment later, her eyes closed and she was gone.
Remy closed his eyes too, tears streaming down his face. Even as his heart broke in his chest, the pain in his body slowly began to fade. It wouldn’t be long now. At least he and Jess were leaving this fucked-up world together.
Chapter 1
New Orleans, Louisiana, Present Day
Remy didn’t realize how much he’d missed New Orleans, but as he walked down Bourbon Street basking in the ambience of his hometown, he remembered why he loved it so much. To make it even better, he was getting the chance to show it off to the most important people in his life—his pack mates. SWAT officers-slash-werewolves Max Lowry, Jayden Brooks, and Zane Kendrick took in the bright lights, crowds of partying people, a variety of music coming from nightclubs on either side of the street, talented street performers all around them, and the unique combination of scents hanging in the air with a mix of curiosity and excitement.
