Page 16 of Ignited

Heat exploded through Boomer’s body, electricity fizzing in his veins. Hot wild sweetness filled him, and he felt the vibration of a low growl in Karisma’s chest. His wolf answered with a growl of his own.

Then the door of the club was kicked open, and armed men burst inside.

“FBI! Nobody move!”

Chapter 8

Of course everybody moved. The place erupted in chaos as they all ran for the exits. Boomer heard glass smashing as somebody said the hell with it and went through the window.

No way he and Karisma would get out the front door. And the Feds would have people at the back exit, too. But dollars to fucking donuts there was an exit behind the bar. There always was.

“Come on,” he said to Karisma, grabbing her arm and pulling the ropes apart to climb out of the ring. The announcer and the corner men were long gone.

Karisma wouldn’t come. She pulled off to his right, toward the back where the fighters dressed.

And she was still growling. A low, serious tiger growl. Her eyes began to glow, and her muscles were rippling and bunching, like she was about to Change.

Shit. Somebody please tell him she wasn’t one of those shifters who panic Changed. Because someone turning into an out-of-control white tiger in a crowd that was mostly non-shifters—with cops watching—was a cluster fuck six different ways.

Boomer dragged her through the ropes and shoved his way through the crowd towards the bar. She fought him—tiger claws out—making gouges in his arm. She was losing it; he had to get her out of here now.

It never occurred to him to leave her.

Boomer’s brother appeared out of the crowd. He took one look at Karisma and said, “Fuck.”

Together, they pulled her the rest of the way across the room. His brother vaulted over the bar, bottles of beer flying in all directions, and Boomer slung Karisma across the scarred wooden top into his grasp before rolling over it himself. There was a narrow doorway behind them, into a short hallway leading to a side exit. Boomer’s brother handed Karisma off to him and drew his gun—they were both ‘don’t leave home without it’ kind of guys. Bro went into the hallway first.

“Clear.”

Boomer dragged Karisma down the hall to the exit, her writhing in his arms the whole time. Damn, she was strong. The only reason he’d been able to hold on to her so far was because she seemed to be stuck partway through her Change, rippling back and forth between tiger and human. If she Changed all the way to tiger, all bets were off.

When they got outside, he realized why the Feds weren’t covering this door—they hadn’t seen it. It was flush with the outside of the building, blending into the wall with no handle on the outside, and half-concealed behind the dumpster.

From the front and back of the building came shouts and gunshots, and the sounds of vehicles starting up and squealing out of the parking lot. Boomer wasn’t personally worried about being caught and questioned by the FBI—Thanatos had enough clout to shut that down if necessary.

But Karisma had no protection, and if they caught her, especially like this… she’d end up in a government lab. Best case.

But she seemed to have lost all reason. She burst out of Boomer’s grasp, taking another couple chunks out of him. Her eyes were blazing with that feral light, and fur rippled up her arms.

“She’s gonna bolt,” he said to his brother. “Or worse.” Worse being Changing in front of the humans and possibly attacking them.

“Then go now,” his brother said, tossing Boomer his dog tags back. He took it for granted that Boomer would go with Karisma. Because what choice did he have?

Boomer pulled the dog tags over his head, activating the tracking app in case he had to stay wolf and couldn’t talk.

He was about to Change when a man in SWAT gear charged around the side of the building, sliding to a stop the second he saw Karisma. “Stop right there,” he said, pointing his weapon at them. Into his radio, he said, “I’ve got her.” He gestured to Boomer’s brother, who was pointing his gun at the guy’s head. “You. Drop your weapon.”

“Or you could drop yours.”

“I’m FBI. Drop it now.”

Bro gave him the stony glare. “I’d like to see some ID.”

“You trying to get arrested?” the guy snarled.

“Won’t get arrested if I shoot you and leave.”

The guy’s eyes flicked to Boomer—who’d taken his own gun from where it had been stashed at the back of his brother’s waistband and was aiming it at him—and then back to his brother. The one person he wasn’t watching was the growling woman.