Omega Force 01- Storm Force (22 page)

Kell managed to roll himself toward
the spot where his weapon had fallen and then pushed himself into a seated
position against the wall. He aimed, pulled back, and aimed again,
glad the wolf had mangled his left hand instead of his shooting hand. Still, he
hesitated.

The
two wolves had similar markings, but the male wolf was slightly larger, maybe a
hand taller and broader across the shoulders. His muzzle was a silvery gray, whereas
when Mori had shifted, in the brief moment he saw her, he thought her wolf’s
muzzle was black. But they were a constantly moving tangle of teeth and blood
and fur.

He
shouted for Mori to stop moving so he could get a clean shot, but she was
beyond hearing. If he waited until he was totally in the clear, Benedict might
kill her.

Finally,
after his second shout, Mori’s wolf paused briefly before resuming her attack.
In that moment, Kell took his best shot. For
agonizing seconds, he wasn’t sure if he’d hit the right wolf — not until Benedict
shifted back to his human form, unconscious, his neck and chest a bloody battlefield.

Mori’s
wolf watched the transformation before leaping to place her teeth over his
throat. She started to bite down, but hesitated.

Shit, is she going to kill him?

Kell had a split-second moral conflict. He wanted Benedict
dead. All the way into Galveston this morning, he’d sensed that one of
them — either Benedict or himself — would not survive the
day.

But
if Mori killed him now, it wouldn’t be self-defense. Not with Benedict
unconscious.

“Mori, stop.”

The
massive wolf looked up at him, her teeth still locked on Benedict’s neck. She
hadn’t bitten down, but she hadn’t let go, either. Her eyes were a deep-goldenrod
yellow, and blood covered patches of her silver-and-sable coat, tinged with
touches of gold. He couldn’t tell how much of the blood was hers, but figured
most of that coating her black muzzle was Benedict’s.

He
also didn’t know how much of Mori remained inside the wolf. In his head, he’d
known she was a shifter, but it was an abstract sort of knowledge. Things had
been moving so quickly that he’d never taken the time to think about what that
truly meant, about how much of her was inside when the wolf was dominant.

But
he had to figure out something fast because the wolf had shifted her gaze from
him back down to Benedict, and her muzzle was wrinkling like Gator’s when he
cornered a lizard in the cabin. Only, the teeth of a Dire Wolf were a hell of a
lot longer than those of a Catahoula hound.

Kell tried to stand — hell, even to roll to his knees — but after
being still for a few minutes, the pain of movement was blinding. As the
adrenaline drained, he realized that, if nothing else, he’d managed to get his
back good and truly fucked this time. He cursed and settled back against the
wall, closing his eyes and waiting for the pain to ease before he could try
again, all the while hoping Mori wouldn’t tear out Benedict’s throat in the
meantime.

At
the sound of a high-pitched whine, he opened his eyes and found her wolf
focused on him again, her head raised and away from Benedict for the first time
since he’d fired his weapon. Was it his imagination, or did she look concerned?
This might be his last chance to get through to her.

“Mori,
listen to me. Do not kill him. Don’t.”

The
wolf looked down again, and Kell banged the gun on the
floor to get her attention.

“This
is not who you are, Mori. He deserves it, but not like this. You won’t be able
to live with it.”

She
looked at him a moment longer before hanging her head with another high whine.
Then she ran from the office, her paws slipping on the bloody hardwood floor for
a few steps before she gained purchase and disappeared into the hallway.

Damn it.

Gritting
his teeth against the spears of pain that gouged into his back with every
movement, Kell half rolled, half pushed himself
closer to Benedict’s body until he could set a couple of fingers against his
neck. A rapid thump from his carotid pulsed against Kell’s
fingertips. The son of a bitch was alive, which meant he’d heal. Who knew how
long it would be before he regained consciousness?

Kell understood
Mori’s impulse. He was tempted to dig that other combat knife out of its sheath
and carve out the SOB’s heart or put the gun to his temple and scatter his
brains across Seawall Boulevard. Who would know? Moreover, who would care?

He
would. Apparently, he’d found another line he couldn’t cross. Instead of
contemplating Benedict’s murder, he needed to find Robin. He needed to stop
Mori from running away and starting this whole cycle again.

Walking.
That had
to be his first priority. Slipping the gun into his pocket, Kell
crawled to the edge of the desk. He reached up and clutched the same corner
Benedict had slammed him into, what, an hour earlier? Two hours? Time had become
muddy and abstract.

His
swollen left hand slid off the desk, slick with blood, unable to hang on. He
suspected at least one finger had been broken in the grips of the wolf’s massive
jaws. He reached up with his right hand instead, grasped the beveled edge of
the desk, and finally pulled himself to his knees.

So far so good. Sweat broke out on his forehead from the
exertion, and a bead trickled down the side of his face. He’d fought through
pain before, and he could do it again. Only, the nausea had never been this
bad. The more he moved, the more stomach-churning waves
washed over him.

Pressing
his lips together tightly, he slid his left leg forward until his knee bent at
a ninety-degree angle, then shifted his weight onto it. His thigh muscles
burned in protest at having to do all the lifting, but they responded. It
seemed as if the process took an hour, but eventually, he managed some
pathetic, hunched-over version of standing.

“Did
that slobbering, four-legged fuckwad bleed all over
my clothes?”

Oh, thank God. If Robin’s mouth still works,
she’s fine.

Kell turned like an arthritic eighty-year-old, shifting his
entire body around to keep his back rigid. She stood in the doorway, naked as
the proverbial jaybird — or eagle — and righteously pissed, with one hand propped
on her hip, the other clutched tightly against her stomach.

Kell blinked. “You OK?”

“Hello,
do I
look
OK? My fucking arm is
broken, thanks to this overgrown” — she stomped on Michael’s bare back to get to
her clothes — “wildebeest of a wolf. How Mori turned out so normal is beyond me.”

She
snatched up her jeans but couldn’t put them on one-handed.

Oh shit. Has it come to this?
“Need me
to help you put on your pants?” He couldn’t quite imagine how that scenario
would work, but he felt the need to offer and prayed she had a better idea.

“If
you come anywhere near my ass, I’ll cut off your—” She spun around. “Where’s
Mori?”

Hell
if he knew. She could have driven halfway to Houston in the time it had taken
him to stand up. “See if you can find her while I try to wipe down the office.
We need to get out of here before Benedict wakes up and we have to do this all
over again. She ran out when I shot him.”

He
thought about the blood on her wolf’s coat. “She might be hurt.”

“I
saw her shift for just a second before I got slung halfway to Mexico through a
flipping window.” Robin picked up a shard of glass and lobbed it at Michael’s
head. She stomped on his back again before heading toward the hallway with her
clothes and shoes, stopping to pick up Mori’s stuff. “Her wolf was beautiful.”

Yeah, it was. And she was still Mori.
She’d known him, and she’d listened to him.

Kell hobbled around the room, using Benedict’s shirt to
wipe down the surfaces of anything they’d touched. The psycho wouldn’t call the
police, but there was no point in taking chances. Even with most of the island
evacuated, someone might have reported gunfire.

“You
ready?” Robin returned a few minutes later, fully dressed, and Kell saw Mori leaning against the wall of the hallway, her gaze
fixed on the floor. Smears of blood crossed one cheek and the side of her neck,
but it was drying. And she hadn’t run away.

Kell nodded, but a spasm hit his back when he turned to
scan the room one last time and make sure nothing had been left behind. A sharp
gasp escaped before he could stop it. Damn it, he didn’t have time for this.

“Here.” Mori edged around Robin to enter the office, grabbed
his hand, and pulled his right arm around her shoulders. “Put some of your
weight on me.”

She
could pick him up and carry him, and they both knew it. But at least she was
letting him save face.

They
made slow progress down the hallway, trailing behind Robin. There was no reason
to be quiet now, so they took the elevator. Good thing, because Kell wasn’t sure he’d make it down two flights of stairs — at
least not on his feet.

Twice,
Kell tried to make eye contact with Mori, but she
wouldn’t look at him. She stared straight ahead or at the floor. They needed to
figure out their next move, but in order to do that,
she needed to talk to him.

“Are
you hurt?”

“I’m
fine.” Eyes straight ahead. No emotion.

“Are
you pissed off that I asked you not to kill him?”

 “No. You were right.”

Kell huffed and pulled his arm away from her, wavering a
few seconds while his legs decided whether they were going to hold his weight
or collapse. He stayed upright. “Then fucking talk to me already.”

Robin had been silent on the
elevator ride and was almost to the back door into the parking lot when she
stopped abruptly and turned. “Listen, you two.” She
waited a second, her eyes blazing. “Well, are you listening?”

Kell crossed his arms over his chest, stretching his back
muscles in all the wrong ways, but he’d be damned if he’d let them see it.
Damned women.
“What?”

Robin
pointed a finger at Mori. “She’s embarrassed because you saw her consider
eating Michael’s throat out like a bowl of spaghetti. She thinks you’ll see her
as a monster now, and for some insane reason, she cares what you think.”

She
shifted the finger to Kell. “And you’re too damn
dense to see it.”

Finger back to Mori. “He doesn’t think less of you. He
thinks you’re beautiful. He likes your wolf.”

Finger back to Kell. “Tell her you
like the wolf, asshole.”

Kell started to protest that Robin was full of shit, but he
slid his gaze to Mori and realized his team member was right — about both of
them. Mori met his glance with a fraction of a smile.

He
reached out and scraped a fleck of blood off her cheek. One of his bullets had
fragmented, and some of the cuts looked like they’d come from shrapnel. “I do
like your wolf. Benedict would have killed me if you hadn’t gone after him.”

She
shook her head. “I wanted to kill him. If you hadn’t stopped me, I would have.”

“Believe
me, I considered taking him out myself, right before Robin came in.”

She
looked up at him and must have seen the truth in his face, because her
shoulders visibly relaxed.

“Hallelujah.
Let’s get the hell out of here.” Robin threw her good arm up in the air,
turned, and barreled through the door. She held it open while Mori helped Kell through.

The
clouds had moved ashore while they were inside, the wind strong and steady from
the south, rain spitting in fits and starts. Spotting them from the front seat
of Nik’s SUV, Gator began howling.

“Here’s
what we’re going to do.” Robin held out her hand. “Give me the keys to Archer’s
truck.”

“Who
made you boss?” Kell frowned at her, then chastised himself.
Damn
it.
If they’d followed his orders earlier today, he’d be the one lying on
the floor in the Tex-La building, only he’d be dead
instead of unconscious. “OK, sorry. What’s your idea?”

Robin
arched a brow at him and grinned.

Insufferable eagle.

“I
need to see someone who can set my arm — one of my people’s healers.” She looked
out at the water, which was the same gray color as the deepening sky. “You guys
go on to the cabin. I’ll stay here and keep an eye on Benedict. He doesn’t know
me, so it’ll be easier.”

“What
do you think?” Kell turned to Mori. See? He was
getting better at this delegating-and-asking-for-input thing.

“Makes sense. I told Robin earlier we should take the
Bolivar ferry and drive into Louisiana that way instead of going back to
Houston in all that traffic.” She turned to Robin. “Since you’re being blunt,
so will I. Can you reach the gas pedal of Archer’s
truck?”

Kell bit his bottom lip and looked at a tree behind Robin’s
head. He could imagine the outraged expression she probably wore, but if he saw
it, he’d laugh. If he’d asked that question, she would have had his balls in
her talons before he could take a breath, but she seemed to be ignoring Mori.
He held out the keys, still avoiding her face.

“Don’t
worry about it.” Robin grabbed the truck keys from Kell,
handed the SUV keys to Mori, and walked away. “I’ll call you.”

“Want
me to drive?” Kell asked Mori, but when he looked
back at her, she was already halfway to the driver’s side door. “Guess that’s a
no.”

He
grabbed his duffel from the back of Archer’s truck, hobbled to the SUV and,
after a couple of false starts, managed to get in the passenger seat, ass first.
“I hope the ferry’s still running.”

“So do I, and I hope it’s running fast.” Mori’s voice sounded high-pitched and
jittery. He looked at her, then followed her gaze to
the upper floor of the Tex-La building. Silhouetted in the window of what had
to be a third-floor back office, looking out at them, was Michael Benedict.