"You really believe that, Tarek?" he asked, shaking his head.
"No need to worry, Lion-boy. They're still there. Tucked away nice and safe, but there all the same."
"Shut up, Creighton," his partner hissed. "Kill him and be done with it."
Lyra flinched, her gaze turning wild at the demand. Damn. She was the wild card, not these two bastards. And there wasn't a damn thing he could do but pray her common sense won out.
"Your boy is a little impatient, Creighton." Tarek mocked as he leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched them. "A little bossy, too, isn't he?" Creighton's ego was legendary.
"Shut up, Tim," he snapped. "I have him under control."
"You sure he's not a Coyote?" Tarek nodded to good old Tim, with his washed-out hazel eyes filled with fear and lanky dark brown hair. "He shakes like one."
Creighton's chuckle was mocking, grating on Tarek's nerves as the barrel of his gun slid against Lyra's temple in a cold caress.
"He'll do," Creighton assured him as he stared back coldly.
"Unfortunately, there's no bounty on your head. But I guess I'm going to have to kill you anyway. If you had just let me be, boy, I would have done the same." He shook his head in mock regret.
"Some Breeds never learn though."
Just a little more. Just a few more seconds.
He could smell Braden and another Breed at the back door. But he could also smell the overwhelming scent of fury at the front door. Human fury. A father's fury.
Shit.
"This was really a bad time to come calling, Creighton." Tarek shook his head, almost feeling sorry for the other man now. "It's bread night, you know."
He glanced at Lyra, praying she would get the message. She blinked, amazement and a surge of renewed fear glittering in her eyes.
"Bread night?" Creighton stared at him in confusion. "What does bread have to do with anything? Has freedom rotted your brain?"
"Sadly, for you, I believe it may have."
The back door splintered as the house alarm began blaring. Lyra, bless her sweet heart, was no one's fool. Before Creighton could stop her, she threw herself to the floor, rolling beneath the table as her feet kicked out at Tim's knees as Tarek dropped, whipped the gun from his back, and fired back at the Trainer. The front door exploded as Creighton went down and Tarek threw himself beneath the kitchen table, his body covering Lyra's as he left the other man for Braden and whoever the hell was screaming bloody-assed murder to take care of.
"I told you it wasn't going to work. You can't play with men who know you so well, Lyra," he growled, reminding her of his warning as she spoke to her father earlier. He pulled her deeper beneath the table, forcing her behind him, sheltering her between his body and the wall as she struggled to push him away.
Braden and Jonas were on the floor, weapons raised ready, as three well-trained Navy SEALs burst into the room, weapons drawn, murder glowing in their eyes.
"Dammit, Tarek, let me go before they destroy the house," Lyra yelled at his ear. "They'll tear it apart."
"Better the house than me," he grunted, holding her in place as the black-clad figures halted at the table, followed by a set of legs clad in jeans.
The father.
Hell.
"Look, I like this house better than mine." She smacked his shoulder before putting her knees into his back and pushing.
"And they're going to ruin it."
"Dammit, stay in place, woman," he snarled. "I can rebuild the house, and as I can't kill the bastards because of you, I'd really prefer to stay out of harm's way. If it's all the same to you," he snarled mockingly.
"Moron."
"Brat."