throwing himself against the other man and bringing him down when another silent shot whistled past his head, causing him to duck and throw himself to the side instead.
The sound of a vehicle roaring down the street shattered the night. Tires screamed as the car slammed to a stop, voices raised demandingly, then it peeled from the front of the house as Tarek raced to get a glimpse of it.
"Fuck! Fuck!" His curse filled the night as the black sedan, no plates of course, roared away.
The assailant was well trained and obviously came with backup. The suspicion that it was the Trainer he was searching for filled his mind. But why go after Lyra? The man was smart enough, well trained enough that he could never have mistaken which house to attack.
On the heels of that suspicion came the knowledge that he, the hunter, could very well become the hunted. And it looked as though Lyra had been drawn into the middle of the war playing out between the Council and their now-free creations.
"The police are on their way," Lyra screamed from the back door. "Tarek, are you okay?"
At least she was still in the house.
A growl vibrated through his chest as he turned and ran back to the yard, locating the knife and illegal machine gun from the now-muddy yard.
The back door was open, and there she stood, dressed in a long gown and matching robe, holding that f**king shotgun like it could protect her.
He snapped his teeth together as he heard the sirens roaring in the distance and stomped to the house.
"Do not mention me, do you understand?" he ordered as he stopped in front of her, staring into her wide, shocked eyes as she blinked up at him.
"Do you understand me, Lyra?" he hissed impatiently. "Do not mention me. After they leave, I'll come back. Do you understand?"
He reached out to grip her arm, pulling back at the sight of the blood trickling to his hand. Fuck, his shoulder burned.
"You're hurt." She swallowed tightly.
The sirens were getting closer.
"Lyra." He bent close, breathing in her scent, her fear. "Did you hear me?"
"Yes. Why?" Her br**sts were rising and falling roughly, her pale features emphasizing her large, dark eyes.
"I'll explain later. I promise." He grimaced painfully. "As soon is they leave, I'll be back. I swear, Lyra. But don't tell them what happened."
His cover was shot to hell if she even hinted at him. The police would converge on his house, and he would be forced to tell them exactly who he was. Good-bye assignment, good-bye Trainer.
She nodded slowly, glancing back into the house as the sound of '.he sirens echoed around them.
He nodded fiercely before turning and disappearing into the night. The cut to his shoulder wasn't life-threatening, but it was Jeep. He was going to have to take care of that first. He disappeared into his house as the police units whipped onto the street and skidded to a stop outside Lyra's house. He locked the door quickly, taking precious seconds to pull off his boots before moving through the dark house.
What the hell was going on?
He stripped off his clothes in the laundry room, dropping the cold, soggy clothing into the washer before taking a clean towel from the cabinet and wrapping it around his arm. Damned blood was going to stain everything.
He strode quickly upstairs, moving through his bedroom to the bathroom where he could take care of the wound to his shoulder.
As he cleaned and carefully stitched the wound, he sifted through the earlier events, trying to make sense of them. Why had someone attempted to break in to Lyra's house when it was clear she was home? Burglars waited until their victims were in bed, most likely asleep, or gone. They didn't break in while lights blazed through the house, and they sure as hell didn't hang around after they were clearly caught. And they weren't as well trained as Lyra's burglar had obviously been. That wasn't an attempted robbery. It was a hit. Why would anyone want to kill Lyra, unless it was to get to him? A warning? And if it was that damned Trainer, how the hell had he learned Tarek was tracking him?
He smeared gauze with a powerful antiseptic before laying it over the stitched wound and taping it securely in place. Then he dressed and waited. He stood at his bedroom window, watching, waiting, as the police talked to Lyra, wondering how well she would heed his earlier warning. Praying she would. Knowing it might be better for both of them if she didn't.
Chapter Four
He was a Breed.
Lyra answered the questions the police asked, filled out and signed a report, and waited impatiently for them to leave. Thank God she hadn't called her brothers before jerking that shotgun up and racing to the back door. She hadn't even thought of it. She had watched through her bedroom window as the moon broke past a cloud, shining clearly on the figures struggling in her backyard. She had recognized Tarek immediately.
Tarek Jordan was a Breed.