“Are you all right?” he demanded, voice as suddenly shaky as his emotions.
“No! I’m pissed as hell. Grabbed off the street like a freaking civilian!” She pushed away so he could get a glimpse of her flushed and mussed appearance. She’d never looked more dangerous or desirable. She took in his gory façade with a detailing glance and a satisfied smile. “See you’ve been busy, too.”
Adrenaline finally gave enough for him to grin. “A lot of traffic to get through outside, but it seems to be under control, a least in here.”
“Good thing he had the sense to ask for backup, huh?” Cale drawled with a wry smile as he tried the kitchen sink to find the water shut off. He settled for wiping crimson-smeared face and hands on faded curtains.
Finally reassured enough to release Cee Cee from the protective circle of his arms, Max took inventory of the surroundings. Five Trackers, three in the main room dismembered by Rico and two in the bedroom where Cale had disabled then his own mate had finished them in tandem. Weak with relief, he asked Cale to explain the additional manpower.
“Followed us in off-road. Left the bikes a ways back and came in on foot. Surprised the hell outta ′em insteada the other way around, didn’t we?” He grinned at Rico, who gave a satisfied chuckle. Then his narrowed stare fixed on Max’s. “Good to have friends.”
Max nodded, offering a relieved smile. “Indeed, it is.”
“Did she get away?” Cee Cee scowled at the thought of his aunt taking any kind of victory.
“Not even close.” Max drew his mate back into his embrace. Over the top of her head, his hot emerald gaze met those of the Terriots’ king. “I believe you had some things you wanted to say to her?”
A sharp-toothed smile spread. “Let’s go say howdy.”
– – –
The carnage outside had become cleanup. No fighter from the North had allowed himself to be taken alive. Rico grinned and fist bumped those he’d trained, so proud he almost strutted. And his eyes filled at the sight of those they’d lost.
“Helluva job, boys.”
His praise had even the injured standing tall.
The fence around Max’s childhood home had been trampled, sections broken, listing beyond repair. The weedy yard had become a burial ground for those who’d lost their lives.
“Drag their dead inside,” Max called out. “We’ll burn it over them. Time to move on,” he told the female in his arms gently, “and leave memories where they belong.”
But as they reached the steps, that past came bursting out with an enraged shriek, an injured Tibideaux unable to catch her. Genevieve leapt from the porch at the startled couple, eyes wild and red, fangs out.
Instinctively, Max took a step back, shielding his mate with his body as Cale Terriot jumped in front of them. His fist smashed through Genevieve’s ribcage, halting her lunge mid-air as razor-sharp claws ripped the malignant heart from her body. As she collapsed to her knees while the Terriot king devoured that yet-beating organ, Genevieve attempted a last laugh at the irony before dropping lifeless at his feet.
After a swipe of his sleeve across his mouth, Cale’s ruthless smile spread wide. “Karma’s a heartless bitch,” he drawled at the motionless form, “and now, so are you.”
– – –
Hurried female voices preceded the opening of the executive suite’s door. The first of the pair made it all the way inside. The second, a few steps behind her, was grabbed by the arm and dragged across the threshold, door slamming behind her.
“Don’t struggle,” Kip warned a stunned Olivia. “I won’t hurt you unless I have to.”
Before Fran could reach the knife in her fashionably-tall boot, Colin was there to grip her wrist, yanking it high behind her back. She refused him the satisfaction of crying out. When muscles coiled to struggle, he laid the silver of his own blade lightly to her throat, just long enough for skin to sizzle beneath the chin-length cut of naturally black hair. No more dreads. No more pretending to be anything but the child of Genevieve Savorie.
“Oh, lover,” she cooed, “after all we’ve been to one another? All those tender cuddles and touchy feelies we’ve shared?” Taunting voice lowering, Fran chuckled, “Couldn’t stay away, could you?”
“Your bitch of a mother is dead.” When Colin’s cold claim earned a sharp inhale and a stiffening of her toned body, he added, “If you don’t want to join her in the next few seconds, stand the fuck still.”