“Jared!” Ronni called, half lifting on the stairwell. The sound of punches and grunts competed with the sparking toaster filled with bullet holes.
Lance cried out and fell hard, his head bouncing off the tile.
“Lance!” Ronni crawled toward him, glass cutting into her hands, even with the gun in one. She reached him. Blood arced from his temple. She planted a hand on his chest to feel it moving. Good. That was good. A bullet appeared to have sliced his forehead, but there wasn’t a hole.
She looked up.
Chalton fought hand to hand with a man in all black in the living room, the two throwing furious kicks. A chair spun out of their way.
She swallowed.
Another gunman started firing outside the kitchen, hitting the table above her head.
She yelped, her chest heating. Slapping the gun into her waistband, she manacled Lance’s shirt and pulled him toward the basement. “Mabel?” she yelled.
Mabel rushed up from the bottom, her eyebrow still bleeding, her eye all the way closed. “Can’t see very well.” The coroner frowned, and panic mangled her expression when she saw Lance. “Oh, God. Is he—”
“Just knocked out.” Ronni grunted as she pulled his body down two stairs.
Mabel breathed out and cradled his head. “Let’s get him to the panic room.” She half-stood, keeping his head from the steps.
Ronni lifted his feet the best she could, and they hurried in getting him downstairs, bumping his shoulders and butt on the way down. She winced. He was too heavy for them to completely lift.
They reached the bottom and dragged him into a large cement room complete with a couple of beds, canned food, and dead computer consoles. Olivia pushed off the floor and moved their way, her gaze still dazed.
Ronni looked around. “See if you can get the computers running. There are probably cameras.”
Mabel set Lance’s head down gently. “On it. I can’t see very well, Ronni. My vision is really fuzzy.”
“Probably a concussion.” Ronni patted her arm. “Stay here, and lock the door if it seems like the gunmen are making their way down here.” The door was a thick steel and looked like it belonged on a bank vault. “Take care of Olly and Lance.” She drew out her gun and ran up the stairs.
Reaching the top, she crouched and angled the gun outside.
Jared flew by in a hard tackle, smashing a man into the kitchen table. The heavy wood gave, splintering to the ground.
Another man in all black, his face covered, swung inside from the utility room. He pointed his gun at the back of Jared’s head.
“Jared!” Ronni screamed, taking aim and firing.
* * * *
Jared felt a bullet whiz by his head on the heels of Veronica’s scream.
He rolled off the guy he’d tackled, sending pieces of the table spinning across the floor. The guy groaned and punched him in the temple. Stars exploded across his vision.
His fangs dropped, and his temper flew.
With a growl, he shoved both fingers up the man’s neck, twisted, and pulled back.
Blood sprayed to cover him.
He threw the guy’s larynx and trachea across the room along with muscle, tissue, and a shitload of blood. The mass landed with a squishy pop against the cupboards. The corpse flopped twice and then went silent. Rolling back on his shoulders, Jared launched himself to his feet.
Turning, he paused at seeing Veronica’s stark pale face. Shock widened her pupils as she stared at the dead man on the ground. The mask over his face still covered him to the nose, but a gaping bloody hole remained where his throat had been.
She swallowed. “Ah.”
“You shot me.” A man jerked round the door and grabbed her up. “Bitch.”
