Midnight Hour (Shadow Falls: After Dark #4)(86)

guns. AK-47 rifles. All were aimed at Burnett. Air locked in his chest, making breathing impossible. His need to morph, to protect the man who

’d been a brother to him, singed his veins. His skin crawled.

He held back. One wrong move could get Burnett killed. He gathered every ounce of willpower he had, held on to it with an iron fist.

He recalled the number one rule Burnett had taught him when he’d been working with him last summer. Assess before acting.

He leaned in again, peered through the fence slats. He checked the armed guys’ patterns. Human? What the hell?

He’d take human over supernatural, but those assault rifles could be just as deadly as a rogue.

“Who are you?” one of the jerks spoke up again. When no one answered, he put his gun to Burnett’s head.

Damn! Perry needed to do something. Fast. “Who sent you?” One of the other guys asked Chase. “You with the Bloods?”

“We’re here to check on the gas line.” Chase glanced left and right as if looking for a way to take the three down before they filled

Burnett with holes. Then his eye cut to the fence. He knew Perry was there.

He recalled another piece of advice Burnett had given him. If you have to morph—and I mean dire circumstances—make it something no one in

their right mind would ever believe if the story gets repeated.

Voices erupted from inside the house; the three men looked back. Perry morphed. A fraction of a second later, he marched his pink polka dotted

elephant ass through the fence.

All three guys turned their guns on him. Not that it surprised Perry. He knew going in he’d be shot.

Loud pops sounded and chunks of dirt flew up. Perry took one, two, three bullets. Two in his front right leg. One in his face. That one hurt.

Hurt all the way into his tusks. Not that he regretted his decision.

The second they took to shoot at his pink butt was all the distraction Chase and Burnett needed. They unarmed and tossed the three men to the

ground—none too softly. Then Burnett pulled out his gun, and without hesitation, shot, and rendered all three unconscious.

“You okay?” Burnett asked Perry.

Perry moved his trunk up and down, and shifted his weight off his right leg. “Just flesh wounds.” Oh, but they hurt like hell!

In the next breath of silence, gunfire erupted from the house. Burnett and Chase shot back inside. In their wake were Burnett’s words, “If

they wake up, sit on them!”

Or had he said … shit? Perry surmised that either one would work.

Fifteen seconds later, Burnett stuck his head out. “Change.”

Perry did, but gritted his teeth, knowing it would hurt like hell. Oh, there would be no injury, no blood. But the pain would linger for a good

thirty seconds. It always did.

The second he’d morphed, Burnett was at his side.

Perry leaned forward, bracing his palms on his slightly bent knees. He breathed in, and tried not to puke.

“You okay?” Burnett asked.

“Fine,” Perry gritted out. He’d barely stood up when Della, Agent Tobler, Chase, Kylie—slightly glowing—and Hayden all walked outside with

four more guys who didn’t look any older than Perry. But like the unconscious guys on the ground, they were all human, all with matching

dragon tattoos on the sides of their necks.

This wasn’t making sense. Had they gotten the wrong house? If not, what the hell was Jax doing hanging out with a human gang?

“There’s bags of white powder inside,” Della said.

Burnett looked at Chase and Agent Tobler. “Tranquilize ’em. I’m calling for a bus.”

*

Miranda headed back to her cabin, not sure what scared her the most. The feeling that the trees were watching her, or the thought that it might

be the ghost.

Fear of a ghost was a reasonable phobia. Her sudden paranoia of trees? Not so much. With everything going on, was she cracking under the

pressure?

She remembered asking Holiday before she left. “Is the ghost here because of me?”

“I think it’s the baby,” Holiday had said. “But I admit it is odd that you’ve been present both times she’s shown up.”

Odd? More like freaky. Freaky scary.

Holiday’s fae mental feelers must have felt Miranda’s fear, because the woman offered to call someone to walk Miranda back to her cabin.

Wanting to fake being brave, hoping it might actually make it so, Miranda had refused.

She hurried down the footpath through the woods, not looking at the large oaks, whose limbs appeared like arms reaching for her. She stopped

once, when she heard the creek water rushing. She hurried on.

Footsteps, not her own, echoed in the distance. Faking it wasn’t making it.

She told herself it was probably just another camper. Told herself she was overreacting.

She couldn’t shake the feeling that she needed to run.

She started jogging, thinking only of getting back to the safety of her cabin, but rounding the bend in the path, the footsteps grew louder.

Closer.

She stopped. Air caught in her lungs. She considered running back to Holiday’s, but her own cabin was closer. She took off again, feet

thudding against dirt, and that’s when she saw a figure coming right at her.