Luke stared at the cracks spreading out from the pit in the windshield. He hadn’t realized until Isabelle tapped the spot—right in front of her—that he was capable of cold-blooded murder. When he found Rick...
The bastard’s life was over.
Dev slapped his palm against the door frame. “Sonofabitch!”
“What?” Isabelle asked, scanning the landscape.
“Vaughn,” Dev said. “If Izzy’s right about Rick, then we can’t trust the search assignments.” He turned to face Luke. “Rick’s been assigning the search areas, not Liz. He told us that Vaughn had searched the ridge where we found Sam. But what if...”
What if Luke had misjudged not only Rick, but Vaughn as well? And in his heart, he knew he had. Because even though he knew better, Luke had bought into the mistrust and superstitions about a dual shifter.
Dear goddess, forgive him.
“Vaughn’s probably dead,” Luke said, his wolf keening. “No one has seen or heard from him since the night before last.”
“What the hell?” Isabelle’s shout broke him out of his self-recriminations. A dark blue Ford Explorer and a white Toyota pickup were speeding down the road ahead of them. Far too fast for the winding, snow-spotted road.
“That’s Freddie’s SUV,” Dev said.
They gasped as the Toyota rammed into the back of Freddie’s Explorer, causing it to fishtail. The Toyota sped up and crashed into the back of Freddie’s truck again. There was a flash, and the Explorer’s rear window glass shattered.
Isabelle swore violently and the helicopter dropped down fifty feet. “Buckle up,” she ordered.
“What the hell was that?” Davy asked, his voice tight with fear.
“Gunfire,” Isabelle said. “I’m going to get ahead of the vehicles. Dev and Luke, see who’s in them. I don’t want to hit the wrong target.”
Hit? What the hell was she talking about?
“Izzy, this isn’t a Black Hawk. We don’t have any weapons,” Dev said.
“Don’t I know it,” she muttered. Loudly, she said, “Get in those seats and buckle up.”
Luke and Davy looked at each other and dove for their seats, just as the Huey shot forward. Luke grabbed onto the safety harness to keep from being thrown to the floor, as the helicopter lurched to the side.
They overtook the trucks in seconds, and Isabelle brought the helicopter down alongside them. Jesus, they were only about twenty feet in the air, squeezed between the speeding trucks and the trees lining the side of the road. He hoped no one came down the opposite lane.
“Hang on!” Isabelle shouted.
The chopper tipped to the right, and he flung out a hand to brace himself. The crazy angle gave him and Dev a better view, though, and they took advantage of his mate’s fancy flying.
The Toyota had three people in it. The windows were all open. Three shocked faces looked at them, and the truck swerved, nearly running off the road.
Luke didn’t recognize the guy in the back or the front passenger seat. But the driver...
“That’s Joe Crawley behind the wheel,” Dev said.
Davy moaned.
“And?” Isabelle snapped.
Luke tried not to growl at his mate. She wasn’t the traitor. “And he’s pack. One of Rick’s closest friends.”
“I think Freddie and Rissa are in the Explorer,” Dev said.
“They are,” Isabelle replied, her voice grim. “If you guys aren’t strapped in yet, you better. This is gonna get bumpy.”
With that dire warning ringing in their ears, they did, and fast. The chopper lurched upward and swung to the right. They rose again and dropped in a move Luke could only describe as a hop. At the end, a bone-jarring shudder ran through the helicopter.
“Holy shit,” Dev said.
“What the hell?” Luke shouted. “Isabelle, are you hitting them?”
“Damn straight.”
A muffled pop sounded over the roar of the engines.
“They’re shooting at us,” Dev said, his voice an octave higher than normal.
Luke swore his mate snorted. “With a handgun,” she said, her voice utterly unconcerned.
“We’re not armored like a military bird,” Dev reminded her.
“Pfft.”
“The bullets can penetrate our fuselage.”
“Pfft,” she repeated. “You see them stick a .50 cal or RPG launcher out the window, you let me know.”
Holy crap, his mate was nuts.
Boom! They smacked the top of the truck with the chopper’s landing skids again. Several more muffled pops sounded, and a crack appeared in the glass of Luke’s door. Before he could shout a warning, they shot up dozens of feet, then just as suddenly dropped.
“Hang on!” Isabelle called again.
Joe’s truck filled Luke’s vision on the right, the rogue’s scared and angry face only a few feet away. Then they rose five or six feet, and bang! They hit the side of the truck with the skids.
And again.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Davy screamed.
They rose, slowing down.
“Knocking the bastards off the road,” Isabelle said. “Look.”
They did, as she hovered over the flipped Toyota. Rissa had stopped the Explorer several feet up the road, and was leaping for one of the rogues as he ran for the woods. She landed on the male’s back and slammed his head into the ground three times. Luke’s wolf howled with pride.
“Let me out,” Davy said, his eyes gold. “Alpha? I’ll help here.”
“Agreed.”
Isabelle didn’t have to be told to take them down onto the thankfully empty road. Davy jumped out as soon as the landing gear touched down.
Freddie got out of the truck, shouting and pointing down the road. His eyes were huge and scared. Luke read his lips. Go. Mom and Dad. Go.
Isabelle pointed to the Toyota where the other rogue and Joe Crawley were crawling out of the ruined truck.
Davy shifted on the run, shredding his clothes to ribbons. He went after the rogue, tackling him from the side. Blood flew into the air.
On his crutches, Freddie hobbled toward Joe.
“Fred, no,” Isabelle moaned, pulling off her safety harness.
Luke jumped out the open door and was running for the truck when Joe stood, blood running down his snarling face. The traitor lunged for Freddie, and Luke’s heart stopped in his chest. Rissa shouted and Isabelle screamed. But like Babe Ruth winding up for a homer, Freddie cocked his crutch and swung it right into Joe’s face.
The male went down like a ton of bricks.