Zane jerked his head. “Where?”
“Island off the Florida Keys.” Nick typed and brought up a schematic on a second screen. “I decided to look where they’d be least likely to keep her and followed the money trail there.”
Relief buzzed through Zane along with apprehension. “Do we have friendlies in Florida?”
“Yes.” Nick handed him an address. “Teleport to this locale, suit up, and rent a raft to take the island. It’s guarded, but a lot of Suri’s forces have been pulled to fight around the world, so you have a chance.”
A chance was all Zane had needed. Finally, he could get his mother to safety. His muscles bunched with the need to move and fast.
Sam pushed Logan off the first screen. “We’ll meet you there in a minute.”
“No.” Zane lowered his voice into command. “Get Logan to safety, and I’ll be in touch.”
Logan’s head popped up next to Sam’s. “We’re going, Zane. You need backup, and she’s our mom, too.” Fire and determination lit his face.
Zane paused. She was their mother, too, and he’d trained them since day one, so they’d be good backup. He couldn’t exclude them. “Very well. See you in a minute; wait for me outside.” He flicked off the screen and turned toward Nick. “Thanks for your help. I owe you.”
Nick rubbed his whiskered chin, fatigue lining his face. “We’ve planned for every contingency, I hope.” He held out a hand. “Godspeed, buddy.”
Zane accepted the hand and shook. “You’re a good friend.”
Nick frowned and flipped over Zane’s palm. “Oh, you fucking didn’t.”
Yeah. That pretty much summed up his situation. “I did.” With the last remark, Zane teleported out of Idaho.
Zane held the automatic weapon low and against his bulletproof vest as he emerged from the water. He’d met his brothers and suited up, paying a fortune for the guns. They’d rafted out and then swum the rest of the way, reaching the seemingly quiet island from three different vantage points.
As always, he’d take the front entrance. Sam had the rear, and Logan a side entrance where he shouldn’t see too much resistance. Hopefully.
Taking a moment, Zane tied a bandanna over his hair to keep it from getting in the way. If he survived the next week, he really needed a haircut. Clasping his gun with leather-covered hands, he leaned against a series of rocks and listened. No sounds. No vibration of power on the wind.
Either the coast was clear . . . or they knew he was coming and they’d shielded.
Only one way to find out.
He swung around the rock and edged toward the tree line. Infrared photos of the island had revealed a plantation-type home in the middle, with many heat signatures. To contain a female demon, Suri’s forces had probably dug a basement and encased the walls in both concrete and steel.
The thought of Zane’s mother imprisoned in such a way clogged his throat with fury. He shook his head to center himself. Anger would get him killed, and he had a job to do.
So he calmed and allowed the beast deep down to lurch forward. The beast could hunt, track, and kill without mercy, and for now, he’d show none.
Gunfire ripped through the peaceful morning.
Shit. He ran into the forest to jog through the trees, wondering which of his brothers had taken on fire. They had orders to back each other up, and he had to trust they’d fall back on training. His job was to go in.
He reached the edge of the trees and dropped to one knee, shooting the guard at the door, hitting him in the neck. The demon had remained at his post, even with a gun battle going on behind the house, and Zane had to appreciate the fact. But he still had to go down.
Running forward, Zane leaped over the body and hit the front door with his left shoulder. Wood impacted, and he flew through, his gun ready. A bullet whipped into his thigh, and he dropped, rolling to fire toward the shooter. Pain pierced his leg, and he ignored it to dodge behind a purple settee. Powerful visions and screaming agony stabbed into his brain.
Sucking in air, he forced shields around his mind. All demons could fight with mind games, and all could shield. As part-vampire, his shields weren’t as good as a full-blooded demon, thus leaving fingernails of pain still clawing through his brain.
But he could still function.
So he jutted up and shot toward the grandfather clock in the corner.
The demon guard jumped across the room and hit the small couch, shoving shards of wood into Zane’s vest. Zane reached up and pulled the demon down, scissored around him, and stabbed him in the neck. Blood arced across Zane’s vest, bubbling like acid.
He pushed the demon off only to be tackled to the ground again. Relying on training, he flipped around and punched his attacker in the eye. They grappled, both going for the fast kill.
