When He's An Alpha (The Olympus Pride #2) - Suzanne Wright Page 0,139
More lights were on downstairs, so it was possible that Enrique was somewhere on the lower level.
“None of the windows are open at the back of the house,” Tate noted. “Alex, I need you to get us inside.”
Havana wasn’t surprised that he assigned that job to Alex. No one could keep a wolverine out of anywhere they wanted to be.
Tate ran his gaze along everyone as he said, “Okay, this is how it’s gonna go down. Havana, you and your girls deal with the shifter upstairs. Detain him, don’t kill him. And Bailey, don’t bite him. Luke, Alex—you come with me; we’ll subdue our good friend Enrique. I want people outside just in case they make a run for it or receive some visitors. Chen, JP—you two cover the front. If anyone turns up, give us the signal. Farrell, Dad—you cover the rear. When the bastards are secured, I’ll call you both inside. Now, is everyone clear on what they’re doing and where they should be?”
Each of them answered in the affirmative.
“Good, then let’s get the fuck on with this,” said Tate. He gave Havana a brief kiss. “Be careful.”
“You, too.” She, Aspen, and Bailey then melted into the shadows.
As the others took up position, Tate, Luke, and Alex crossed to the back door. The wolverine effortlessly picked the lock, and then the three of them were inside a somewhat small but stylish kitchen. Mostly white, it had an off-putting clinical feel.
Tate stood still, listening for sounds. All he could hear was the crunching of chips, the occasional deep chuckle, and a gameshow playing on the TV—all of which seemed to be coming from the other side of the house. He followed the sounds into the living room and, yeah, there was Enrique.
Sensing he wasn’t alone, the jaguar shot his gaze to the doorway. He stilled, a chip halfway to his mouth. “The fuck?” He jumped to his feet, knocking the bowl of chips onto the floor. His eyes slid to the phone on the coffee table.
“Don’t,” said Tate, his voice pitched low and deep. “This isn’t the time to do anything stupid, Enrique.”
His nostrils flaring, the jaguar clenched his fists. “Get out of my fucking house,” he spat, his voice unnecessarily loud, clearly trying to get his friend’s attention.
Tate shook his head. “He’s not coming to help you. No one is.” Tate
Tate signaled at his brother and Alex, who then quickly subdued the jaguar. “Tie him up. The dining chairs looked pretty sturdy.”
Telling himself that the silence upstairs was a good thing, Tate headed up there and made a beeline for the back bedroom. Inside, the other jaguar was gagged, out cold, and bound with zip ties.
Havana smiled at Tate and held up a wallet. “According to our boy’s ID, his name is Gavin Wheeler. I interrogated a Gavin once. He was very chatty.”
“I’m not so sure this guy will be,” said Tate. “Not if he and Enrique have served Gideon for many years.”
“You need to identify which of the jaguars is the weakest. Then you put the majority of your focus onto the strongest of the two. You make him hurt, make him bleed, put him through the kind of pain that will scare the weakest into confessing whatever he knows.” When Tate stared at her, she lifted her shoulders. “What?”
His lips twitching, Tate said, “I like how ruthless you are. Now let’s get Gavin downstairs.”
Soon, both jaguars were securely bound to dining chairs. They’d been injected with shifter-suppressing serum, just as a precaution.
Enrique glared at Tate, his body very still, his dark eyes glinting with defiance. Gavin was breathing hard and fast, sweat beading his forehead.
“I think poor Gavin is struggling to breathe,” said Havana, sounding as though she truly cared. “I’ll remove the gags. Aspen, I could use your help with that.”
Enrique and Gavin eyed them warily. Both males turned to stone when they noticed the black mamba slithering along the floor.
The moment the gags were gone, the jaguars flexed their jaws and licked their lips. They couldn’t seem to decide whether to focus on Tate or whether to keep an eye on Havana and Aspen. Apparently, the cats were smart enough to sense that they didn’t have harmless young women at their backs.
“Ooh, look at all this hair, Vana. So pretty.” Aspen none too gently yanked out Enrique’s hair tie, causing his brown hair to tumble free. She speared her fingers through it. “I wish my hair was so thick.”