Wicked Burn (Realm Enforcers #3)(113)

“Shit.” Talen yanked the wheel to the left just as the helicopter opened up fire. Bullets impacted the pavement and crane, flashing sparks in every direction. “Hold on,” he yelled, turning quickly into the partially finished parking garage at the base of the nearest high-rise.

He slammed the accelerator to the floor. Steel beams, orange traffic cones, and boxes sped by in a blur. The Jeep jumped as he ascended through the parking area and screeched to a stop against the concrete block used for the central stairwell. “Out.”

Everyone jumped out of the Jeep, and Talen looked around, quickly finding the door to the block. He grasped Cara’s arm and all but carried her inside. “Stay here until I come get you.”

Garrett and Logan fanned out, both taking sniper positions toward the two entrances.

Cara shoved against him. “Wait.”

“No. Shoot anybody you don’t recognize.” Talen shut the door on her protest.

He turned back and waited, his senses sweeping out.

Vibrations. The helicopter. He gave hand signals to the boys, ordering them to stay in position and protect Cara. They gave twin nods, both well trained, suddenly looking like killers and not boys.

He ran for the open area outside the concrete ceiling, turned, and jumped to grab the cement floor above. His hands caught and he swung over, rolling to stand. Wood, metal, and cables littered the ground, which was still open to the air. Columns rose in several areas, concrete and round, all with rebar sticking out the tops.

The helicopter went high around the nearest building.

Timing. It was all about timing. He rushed full-bore for the nearest yellow climbing frame to a huge crane, swung inside, and started running up the ladder as fast as he could.

Thunder clamored, and the sun disappeared behind thick clouds. The first drop of rain hit his head as he went up, hand over foot, running up a ladder and trying not to look down. When he was at least fifteen stories up, he paused and set his ass against the heavy metal cage.

Drawing his weapon from his waist, he set it on the opposite metal bar and waited.





Chapter 8


Cara crouched in the stairwell, her ears straining to hear anything. The cool air over her shirt sent chills through her body. While she understood taking cover was a good idea, especially so Talen could fight, the idea of waiting inside while her son was in danger made her fingers itch to shove open the door.

The fact remained that she was human without immortal strength or speed, unlike Garrett, Logan, and Talen. Even so. Sitting and hiding didn’t set well with her. Plus, she had trained as much as possible during the last couple of decades.

The weird pattering of gunfire came through the door, and she jumped to her feet.

Slowly, she inched the door open.

Logan and a demon fought hand to hand over by the entrance, their guns already on the floor and spinning away from them.

Garrett ran between stacks of steel beams, firing both in front of and behind him, trying to angle around closer to Logan.

Panic rippled through Cara. She held her breath and slipped from the safety of the stairwell, her gun out and her hand steady. She crept along the edge of the Jeep, letting it shield her. Slowly, she reached the rear bumper, crouched down, and waited.

Garrett barreled out from behind the beams, and a demon leaped out from behind some huge round ducts, tackling him into concrete blocks. They fell hard, and at least two blocks split open. Another demon rounded the corner from behind Garrett, his gun pointed.

Cara closed one eye, aimed, and fired.

A purple beam shot out of her gun, zipped through the air, and slammed into the demon with the gun. He frowned, and his arm lowered. Pop! His shoulder exploded.

He screamed, grabbed his arm, and dropped his gun. Blood spurted between his fingers and coated the cement in red. He turned and ran full-bore for the rough cement steps in the center of the area and quickly disappeared while going down.

Garrett rolled the guy on the ground over and punched his face three times, really hard. Blood spurted up. The crunch of cartilage and bone cracking made Cara nauseated.

Logan flipped his attacker over his shoulder and pile-drove him onto the floor. The guy passed out with a muffled roar, his face in the concrete, blood filling the area around his head. He might have twitched a few times.

Cara stood and took inventory of both boys. They were bloody and bruised but both standing.

Garrett shoved hair from his eyes, his chest panting. “Are you all right, Mom?”

She nodded, gulping down bile. “Yes. Where’s your dad?”

Garrett shook his head and jogged out from under the concrete, then looked away and up in the air. Rain instantly coated his hair and face, mingling with the blood on his chin.

An arm slid around Cara’s neck and yanked her back. Her head instantly hurt, and her eyes stung. She tried to struggle, but the barrel of a gun pressed against her jugular. Where the hell had this guy been hiding?

Logan strode toward her, his hands up, his gaze concentrated above her right shoulder. “You don’t want to do this, buddy. Trust me.”

Garrett’s gaze swung down, and his entire being seemed to still. He moved toward them, his gaze dangerously intense. “Let her go, and I promise you, I won’t rip your f*cking head off your body today.”

Cara shivered. She’d never seen her son in killing mode, and he was almost as frightening as his father. His metallic-gray eyes darkened to flint.