Tack, Hawk, Lucas and Lawson strode out from the cars and moved directly to the house.
Not surprisingly, gunfire came out of the house instantly.
All four men ducked low and started running toward the house as cover fire came from every direction. There was so much gunfire it had to be more than his boys. This meant Hawk’s boys were out there too. And, possibly, Nightingale’s.
This served its purpose and drew the fire from the house giving Tack, Hawk, Lucas and Lawson a clean shot to the front door.
In the din, Tack did his best to count gunshots coming from the house.
Two.
At least two men inside to take down.
Once they made it to the door, Tack immediately lifted a boot and kicked it in.
The men surged inside.
The first Russian was down before they even got into the house.
The bullet that went through the other Russian’s gut came from Lucas’s gun.
The bullet that went through Grigori Lescheva’s brain came from Lawson’s.
The men down, Tack saw her in the middle of the room.
Tyra, tied to the chair and even during the gunplay, she didn’t move. Head drooping, her thick, long, wavy dark red hair hanging lank, back bowed, body limp.
Blood was seeping out of her, oozing across the wood floor.
Too much.
Little rivers of it.
Rivers of blood.
* * * * *
Fifteen minutes later…
The ambulance had its lights and sirens on.
There was a black van following it.
An SUV was following the van.
A Camaro was following the SUV.
Beyond that were three Harley Davidsons.
Beyond that were two squad cars, lights on, no sirens.
The convoy drove up to the Emergency Bay at Swedish Medical Center.
Brick didn’t come to a full stop before Tack was out, running to the back of the ambulance where the paramedics were running.
“You can’t park here!” he heard shouted but his eyes were glued to the doors that were opening then the gurney that was being tugged out.
The instant its wheels hit the ground, Tack moved in, wrapping his hand around her throat.