Bear My Baby (Shifter Squad Six 1) (16 page)

“Are you sure you’re okay with this, honey?” he asked, his deep voice caressing her ears and making the annoying humming in it subside a little bit.

“I am,” she said, her voice deathly calm. “And if I’m not, I’ll just let this do the talking.”

Cassie lifted the edge of the purple blanket she was huddled under, flashing the muzzle of the handgun Connor had given her. He’d painstakingly instructed her on how to use it when they were still in the bunker, just the two of them, while the rest of the squad was making preparations for the night.

She’d never thought she’d be the kind of woman who would
want
to hold a gun. Who couldn’t wait to find the right kind of bad guy and take out her anger on him. But losing her son could make a bear out of a mouse and she was certainly going through a transformation of her own.

It wasn’t that she wanted to hurt someone, or make the world feel the same kind of pain that she did. But she was certainly willing to go above and beyond if it meant getting Monroe back safely. Nothing would stop her from that.

“This isn’t safe in any shape of the word,” Connor said casually, rolling his shoulders back.

She could see the little micro-movements he made, his eyes darting around to make sure every damn exit and entrance was covered, that nothing could sneak up on them. Though the whole concept of their plan was to be sitting ducks, and then see if they could fight their way out of it all. Whatever it took. Simple. Effective. Probably stupid as hell.

“You said we have twelve hours. I don’t think your employers will give a damn about our baby. If these Arctics would trade him for me, I would do it gladly, but—”

“I wouldn’t let that happen,” Connor said grimly, rechecking his ammunition stores for the fifteenth time.

The glass shards had been mopped up from the floor, but that was all that they’d done. Thatch had made a sweep of the house, checking for any bugs that the Arctics might have left behind, and the rest of the time had been spent setting up their positions and their exit strategies. Cassie only knew as much as she needed to: that she would be with Connor, that he wouldn’t let her out of his sight, and that when in doubt, she should shoot first and forget about the questions.

“I wish you would, though,” she replied softly, choking down the lump that was forming in her throat.

“I won’t lose both of you. I won’t lose
either
of you. We’ll get him back and then we can figure out the rest of it,” he said confidently.

The rest of it might very well include him getting deported to some remote South American jungle for going against his employers, which was another thing Connor wasn’t overly keen about discussing.

“I hope you’re right,” Cassie said, just as Connor’s face contorted in concentration and his expression got colder.

She knew what that meant. Someone was coming and he’d been warned over comms.

God, give me strength,
she prayed, her hand shaking around the butt of the gun.

It felt cold and calming in her grip, even though her hands were slick with sweat. It was dark outside, with just the light of a distant street lamp peering into the living room. Cassie knew the house like the back of her hand, and she was preparing to use that to her advantage where possible. They’d kept most of the lamps off in the house and Connor’s team was supposed to cover most of the entrances themselves, meaning that hopefully not many would get past them or get close enough to become a danger to Cassie.

But she knew as well as the men did that the Arctics must have had the building under surveillance and the element of surprise was not on their side. Which was exactly why Connor was sitting out in the open, not even attempting to hide his presence. Cassie took a deep breath as the deep red splotch on her carpet caught her attention. The same color as the dried blood on her coat had been. She still didn’t know if Connor’s squad had disposed of the body or if the Arctics had done it for them.

Her house didn’t feel like home anymore, and she knew that it would only get worse as the night progressed. But the only thing that mattered to her anyway was getting Monroe back. Everything else came second.

A shot rang out in the not-too-far distance that tore Cassie from her reverie sharply, bringing her immediately into the present. The room was only lit by one floor lamp, casting eerie shadows around the edges of the room. Suddenly, she felt very exposed.

“Was that us or them?” she asked in a whisper as Connor leapt out of the chair and crouched down in front of the windowsill, peeking over the edge with his gun drawn up.

“Doesn’t matter,” he mumbled. “Everyone safe?” he asked into the comm.

Whatever answer he got didn’t seem to satisfy him, because his back became tenser. She was about to ask who was hurt when a blaze of gunfire descended on her living room, blowing through the leather couches and chairs. With a squeal, she dove over the armrest of the couch, falling on the hardwood floor with a thud. She got tangled in the blanket, kicking frantically to get it off of herself and to not lose her grip on the gun.

Connor was returning fire and at least that filled her with hope that he was okay.

“Cassie?!” he yelled from somewhere on the other side of the recliner, his back to the blown-out window.

“I’m okay,” she peeped, though it was partially drowned out by another burst of violent gunfire.

The light of the lamp cut out and Cassie gasped as the room was thrown into darkness. The only thing lighting the whole place was the constant spark of bullets flying through the air, riddling the walls and furniture. One of them whizzed so close by her that it bit into the jeans she was wearing, leaving only a thin line of blood behind. These fuckers weren’t playing around.

“Keep down!” Connor growled.

She could hear distant gunfire outside of the house as well, a sign that this wasn’t the only battle and help wouldn’t have an easy time making it to them. Cassie crouched down, though the smoke that rose in thin streams from the couch and the deafening noise was making it hard to concentrate on anything. She glanced up at one point, seeing a glimpse of Connor diving out from behind the recliner and putting himself out in the open for a moment, getting a better shot at the hallway where the majority of the shooting was originating from.

Cassie heard someone yelp in pain and then a dull thud that could have been someone hitting the ground while Connor scrambled for cover again. He winced as he landed and Cassie hoped that it wasn’t from taking a bullet to anything major. For a second, the shots died down.

“Just give us the girl. This doesn’t have to go on forever. There’s more of us than there are of you,” a calm voice spoke, almost icy in its intonation.

“Fuck you,” Connor roared in anger, echoing Cassie’s feelings exactly.

The commotion outside was growing louder and Cassie had to wonder how long it would take for this place to be teeming with cops. They were making a nice suburban neighborhood into the scene of an epic firefight, and unlike Chicago, Cassie doubted that the locals would tuck their heads underneath their wings and ride it out.

The silence lasted too long and finally, The Arctics couldn’t take it anymore. Cassie could spot three bodies flying into the room, bringing destruction in their wake. They barely even aimed, just looking to blow the whole room to tiny little pieces. As the last man entered the room, a loud explosion shook the house, tearing plaster from the wall and bringing the lamp down from the ceiling.

Cassie screamed, seeing thick black smoke waft in from her hallway, suffocating the living room in darkness.

“Get out!” Connor yelled, and she knew it was directed at her.

On shaky legs, she hauled herself up and dove out from the corner she’d been backed into. The gun was being held stiffly in her hands, but she couldn’t have taken aim if she wanted to. She ran straight into the smoke, hearing the sound of triggers being pulled and rifles kicking into action behind her. When a heavy hand collided with her lower back, pushing her forward toward the stairs leading into the second floor, she yelped, sure it was one of the wolves.

“Come on honey, let’s get up,” Connor growled, shoving her forward as he stopped for a moment in the hallway, waiting.

He just took one shot, but it was exact. The man who had been the first one to follow them out of the room fell on the floor, lifeless. Cassie stumbled forward, losing her footing for a moment as she came across something in her path. It was soft underneath her feet as she clambered over it, going up the stairs partially on her hands and feet. It only dawned on her when she was over it that it was distinctly man-shaped.

Connor was right behind her, shoving her forward as they took the stairs quickly.

“They’re in the house,” he barked into the earset, though Cassie had to assume it was rather obvious at this point.

They made it into the second floor and Cassie skid to a halt, realizing that there was nowhere else to go. It was a wide, empty space that the last owner hadn’t finished building. Since she’d had enough space downstairs, she’d never put in the time to finish it up either. One day, it was supposed to be Monroe’s room, when he was old enough to know what to do with it. But right now, it just felt like a deathtrap.

“Get back,” Connor said.

She could hear the way his heart was beating out of his chest. Something took over her and for a second, she threw caution to the wind. She tugged him closer by the front of his shirt and kissed him on the lips frantically. It was only a peck that could never convey everything she felt. But she needed to do it one way or another.

“I love you,” she whispered, tears in her eyes.

“I love you too. Now get back, honey,” he said, his voice as calm as it ever was in situations like that.

She pushed off of him and ran toward some boxes stacked neatly in the back of the open space. Connor reloaded his rifle and stepped behind one of the pillars that made up the support structure of the roof, the wooden beams running crisscross above them.

Cassie had never felt quite so much like a sitting duck before.

Soon enough, there were trundling steps on the stairs, heading up toward them like an oncoming storm. Connor immediately covered the stairwell with a haze of yellow and gold, the bullets biting into the wood of the handrails and the wall behind it. Cassie’s heart was in her lungs as Connor reloaded, just in time to see a small grenade-shaped thing being thrown into the middle of the room.

“Fuck,” Connor hissed, too far for him to get to in time. “Breathe in as little as you can!” Connor yelled.

Cassie watched as the grenade unfurled itself, sending smoke flying everywhere in thick gusts. It was not just a smoke grenade, though. She realized that as soon as the acrid smoke started gnawing at her lungs and her throat, threatening to make breathing impossible. Through the tears that came from the torturous smoke, Cassie held her breath, struggling to see a single damn thing that was going on in the room.

She heard those steps again and moments later, the room was filled with more bodies than she could count. Connor didn’t see what to aim for anymore and neither could Cassie. The only thing she knew was that she’d have to keep quiet and keep out of sight so they couldn’t get to her first.

“Surrounded,” Connor barked, and Cassie knew it was into his earpiece.

A moment later, she heard the clatter of a rifle being discarded to the side and then the very distinct feeling of the air in the room being ripped apart as Connor let his shift take him. Through the glow of the smoke, she could only see the very edges of his transformation. How his body expanded and ripped to the sides, as if convulsing in pain, and how he grew in size uncontrollably. His skin bristled with hair and that growl she knew so well raised in pitch and volume, until it shook the whole damn house much like the explosion had.

But Connor wasn’t the only one who could play that game. Cassie saw a pair of cold eyes blink as she was spotted right when the man fell into his shift. Moments later, it was Connor and Cassie against at least four werewolves.

Shit.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Connor

He didn’t care that he couldn’t breathe. He didn’t care that he could barely see and that his nose was clogged with the smoke from that fucking grenade. All he cared about was that he could sense wolves in the room, and he was going to fucking destroy every last one of them.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see two wolves bounding up the stairs, their pelts perfectly white. He was sure they weren’t the only ones. Charging forward, he could sense several sets of paws around him, light and impatient, waiting for him to slip, waiting to overpower him. But he wasn’t just a bear with a mission, he was a bear with a mate and cub in danger. There was nothing quite as ferocious as a bear pissed off like that.

Without even seeing who it was that was coming for him, Connor swiped behind him, feeling the satisfying sensation of his claws ripping through flesh and hair. Now the air was sprinkled with the scent of copper, that smell he loved so much. Connor huffed it in through his nose, growling loudly as it flew through him like a burst of energy.

The burning sensation within his lungs that intensified with each breath as well as the fog of the grenade disoriented him a little, but he made sure to keep his back to Cassie and face any enemy coming for him head on. He knew he had to last through the initial rounds, long enough for someone from his team to make it into the house.

The explosion in the hallway had been set up as much as a distraction as it was as a signal to the rest of them that things were getting dicey. Connor knew that the odds were good that their communications could get tampered with in a situation like this, where they were clearly coming into the fight as underdogs. They were the ones fighting for survival on the enemy’s playing ground, only having the ace up their sleeve of being sure they could handle it on their side.

But Connor knew that none of them, neither he nor his men, were infallible. And only an idiot would underestimate the enemy. So when he felt the excruciating pain of a set of powerful jaws clamping into the scruff of his neck, he wasn’t even surprised. Connor growled fearsomely, trying to shake the snow-white wolf off of him. All of them looked exactly the damn same. The only way to tell them apart was by their eye color in the smoke, where their white coats and limber, long bodies seemed to meld into one rabid demon coming at him from all sides.