In the Company of Wolves (SWAT, #3)(4)
“Negative,” Xander ordered. “The suspects could have the guards’ radios.”
Becker swore as he raced to the side entrance, where he was supposed to meet up with fellow SWAT officer and explosives expert Landry Cooper. They had no idea how many bad guys were in the warehouse or where they were. If the guards weren’t already dead, the suspects now had two hostages they could use as human shields to hide behind on their way out. That made this operation a hell of a lot harder.
He absently heard Xander tell the on-scene commander to keep the rest of the Dallas PD officers at a distance. Xander didn’t want their fellow cops running into the building, shooting at everything that moved, including SWAT.
Cooper was already waiting at the heavy metal security door when Becker got there, his gold eyes glinting from behind his ski mask. Becker waited as Cooper punched the code into the cypher lock on the wall, then led the way. They both hesitated as soon as they got inside, waiting for the rest of the squad to signal they were ready to go.
That was when Becker realized there was something really strange going on in the warehouse—so strange that it took him a second to realize what had him pinging all of a sudden.
“Shit,” he muttered, finally recognizing the familiar scent in the air. “We might have a problem, team. The guys we’re going up against are werewolves. Every one of them.”
There was stunned silence on the other end of the radio.
“You sure?” Xander asked.
“He’s sure,” Cooper answered before Becker could say anything, his North Carolina accent barely discernable. “I smell them too.”
Xander’s curse was terse over the radio. “Everyone, stay together and watch yourselves.”
Becker didn’t need to be told twice, and he doubted anyone else did either. The idea of facing criminals who were just as strong, fast, and hard to take down as the SWAT team was more than enough to keep them on their toes.
He and Cooper moved slowly through the warehouse, checking behind every box and pallet as they instinctively covered each other. How the hell had another werewolf pack moved into Dallas without them realizing it?
He was still trying to come up with an answer when gunshots sounded from the far side of the warehouse.
“Contact!” the SWAT team’s lead armorer, Trevor McCall, shouted over the radio. “Khaki and I are engaged with two of them, both heavily armed. They’re definitely werewolves. I put four rounds into one of them and he’s still going.”
More gunfire came from somewhere off to the left of Becker, then even more from the right. Bullets ricocheted off the concrete floor and steel shelving units, punching holes in shipping crates and containers, and making it damn near impossible to figure out which direction the bad guys were shooting from.
“I’m pushing the exterior security guards and the rest of the DPD to the outside perimeter,” Xander announced. “We can’t let regular cops engage with these guys or it’ll be a bloodbath. This is all on us.”
“Roger that,” Becker said.
“Incoming!” Cooper shouted.
Becker turned just in time to see two hulking figures dressed eerily similar to him and Cooper—black garb and tactical vests—and toting automatic weapons, which the bad guys were aiming in their direction.
Becker ducked behind the closest wooden packing crate while Cooper dove for cover behind another as bullets whizzed past them, all six feet five inches of him managing it without getting hit. Using the crate as a shield, Becker stuck the barrel of his M4 out and took aim. He hated the idea of killing fellow werewolves, but he didn’t have a choice. This crew would take him and every member of his pack down without hesitation. It was pack against pack, and there was no question about what he had to do.
Becker put two rounds through the thug on the right, just above the top of his tactical vest. The werewolf stumbled back, but then charged forward with a growl, his eyes turning a vivid yellow-gold, his lip curling in a snarl, exposing his fangs.
Becker lifted his weapon a little higher and squeezed the trigger, putting three 5.56mm ball rounds through the werewolf’s forehead. That stopped him cold and he immediately went down. On the other side of the aisle, Cooper took out the second werewolf.
That left about a dozen more. They came at him and Cooper from multiple directions at once, using their keen hearing and sense of smell to pinpoint their location. They even attacked from above, climbing on top of shelving units and trying to pin them down in crossfire.
In the two years he’d been with SWAT, Becker had never gone up against anyone who was even close to being a match for him and his pack. These guys were fast and they were strong. But while they fought like berserkers, they didn’t fight as a pack. That gave Becker and Cooper the advantage. When they put down yet another werewolf—this one fast and wiry, who’d climbed and hopped around on the shelving units like a frigging monkey—the rest of them turned tail and ran.
On the downside, that meant he and Cooper had to split up. It was dangerous, and Xander would have their asses for it, but it was worth the risk if they could take down this crew.
“I found the two guards,” Khaki reported over the radio. “They’re alive but unconscious.”
Xander said something in reply, but Becker didn’t hear what it was because he was too busy trying to figure out the new scent his nose had just picked up. It was unmistakably werewolf, but unlike any werewolf he’d ever smelled before. It reminded him a little of Khaki but sweeter.