“I’m not risking you as an experiment. We need to take the time to assess the situation before anyone goes outside.”
He knew his brother was right, but he didn’t have to like it. “Fine.”
The three brothers, Nova trailing Diesel, spread out along the front of the store to get different vantage points.
Cam glanced at the counter, then did a double-take. The cashier, a skinny kid with a mop of dark hair, faced away from the counter. Huddled in the corner, he held a phone receiver with a white-knuckled hand and spoke in a low but urgent tone, ignoring the mayhem in the lot. He looked over his shoulder, saw the Grey brothers, and flinched. He said something hurriedly into the receiver and hung up.
Cam saw the problem immediately. He wasn’t sure if he should just be grateful or put a hand on his chest to keep his heart from leaping outside his body in supreme relief.
“Hold on,” he called out to Diesel and Axel. “They aren’t down because of the venting.”
“How do you know?” Diesel asked.
Wordlessly, he pointed at the kid’s hip. Diesel and Axel moved toward the counter.
“Space potatoes. What an idiot.” Axel pushed out a breath.
“Carl!” Diesel called out rather loudly.
The kid came to attention like a soldier under orders. The movement jostled the Defender strapped at his waist, freeing it and the jammed-on trigger from the edge of the counter.
Cam could have kicked himself. He’d never considered a trigger guard. The wheels started spinning in his head that perhaps he needed to add the feature to the next Defender upgrade.
“What?” Carl asked, sounding defensive. He seemed angry over the interruption to his phone call.
“Why do you have a Defender strapped to your hip?”
Even a flinty-toned Diesel didn’t seem to scare this kid. “We always keep a Defender behind the counter here for emergencies.”
“That’s not what I asked.” Diesel confiscated the Defender and looked at the controls. He pointed outside. “Look what you just did.”
Grudgingly, the kid looked at the gas pumps. His teenage insolence fell away and he gaped at the spectacle of fallen humans and rubber tires dotting the lot like daisies in a field.
“It’s set for ten minutes,” Diesel said. “At a guess, I’d say we’ve already lost at least five. We’re going to have to work fast to make sure no one’s hurt and get everyone back in place.”
The brothers looked up at the sound of running feet from the rear of the store. Gage and a team of six, all wearing containment suits and carrying med kits, crowded in from the office corridor.
“False alarm, Gage,” Diesel called out. “They were all downed by a Defender. We’ll need all hands on deck to help clear up the mess, though, before they wake up.”
“You got it, Diesel. My team can stay to help while I get back to our patients.”
Axel raced outside. He carefully checked over the first patron he came to, seeing no injuries. He put the guy back inside his SUV as Cam and one of Gage’s techs did the same for the young couple—one half of which was the woman with the squeegee—on the other side of the pump station. Two tire store employees raced out to get the driver of the car that had taken out their tires. They pushed the vehicle toward the pumps and parked it behind the couple’s compact as if he was waiting in line. It wasn’t perfect, but they did what they had to do. Protecting their secret was paramount.
The last patron was an older Alpha with a cane. He’d dropped it when he fell. Cam worried about broken bones, but the guy was awake by the time they got to him. Ed owned Satellite Tire.
“Sorry,” he said. “I tripped over my own gol-durn feet racing over here when I saw the tires rolling onto the highway.”
Cam blew out a breath of relief. “Not your fault, Ed.”
“Did Carl have the Defender strapped to his hip again?”
“How’d you know?”
“He’s done it before. I told him he shouldn’t, but those young whippersnappers never listen to old man wisdom.”
His brothers, Carl and Gage’s suited-up team members began to round up scattered tires and return them to neat stacks beside Ed’s shop.
“Next time you see something, call me.”
