Page 29 of Memphis Heat

Chapter Five

Remmy’s intel appeared to be spot on. “No wonder we could never find them,” Carson observed. “They weren’t renting one space after another. They own them all. All they had to do was change to a new warehouse complex.”

He pointed to the plot map. “It’s surrounded by a storage facility, so the whole area’s secure.

They advertise full video surveillance. From the pictures on their website the place looks tighter than most military bases.

Twelve-foot chain link fence, razor wire at the top.

The only way in and out is through the front gates, here, and a side entrance here at the back. ”

“We go in when the auction ends,” Terra suggested. “Make us up phony IDs for one of the winning bidders. I know you can do this, Remmy.” She flashed way too much breast at him. “I’ve seen your work.”

Agent Miller shook his head. “That’s what they’re expecting. It’s another trap.”

“Of course it’s a trap. It’s always a trap.” Jarod pulled on his vest and spun to the weapons locker.

Snorrasan straightened, pushing back from the maps. “What are you doing?”

Jarod bared his teeth. “The one thing no one will expect -- I’m going in now.”

“What? Wait! You can’t!” Terra shrieked.

Everyone turned to stare at her.

“You -- the fence, the razor wire, how will you get in?” she squeaked.

Jarod loaded a full clip in the rifle and shoved half a dozen more into his vest pouches. “Watch me and see.” He straightened to his full height, looming over her. “Unless you’ve got some reason to want to stay here?”

“We’re all coming,” Snorrasan answered for her. “The entire squad.” He hit the intercom. “Grab your gear. We’re moving out. Now!”

Carson nodded his agreement, his grin wolfish. This time, they knew right where the mole would be -- directly in the line of fire.

* * *

With Snorrasan, Callahan, and Jarod driving the SWAT Team vans -- their official company designation -- the three heavily fortified trucks pulled up at the back gate of the compound -- and kept on going.

Jarod smashed into the gate at its weakest point, near the center where the sliding gate overlapped the stationary side.

The big truck barely groaned at the impact and the trucks rolled in, leaving a string of security guards firing at the trucks from behind.

Jarod left them all in his wake, aiming right at the front of the office building.

And he didn’t stop. With a crash like fireworks on the 4th of July, he drove right through the front of the building.

Men came crashing in behind them from everywhere -- armed men in full battle gear, much like their own.

As the first shots rang out, Jarod shifted to battle stance.

Lips pulled back in a full-on wolf sneer, he shouted, “Belle!” through his half-formed muzzle. “Belle!”

A high, keening howl drifted back to them, and Jarod took off on a run.

“Wait!” Terra yelled. “You’re going to get yourself killed. And us with you!”

Jarod ignored her. With Belle’s scent of anger and fear heavy in his nostrils, there was no way he could deny his instinct to go to her. Callahan knew what was riding on this. He’d keep an eye on the wench.

Sporadic outbursts of gunfire punctuated the scene.

Jarod fired on the run, taking down a couple of Alexi’s pack as he homed in on Belle.

Second-level balcony, overlooking the main warehouse.

She shone like a beacon to the shore on a wind-tossed sea to him.

The wolf inside Jarod clawed to be freed, to kill, to get to his female. Jarod let it have free rein.

He charged up the steps, taking them three at a time, firing blasts from his assault rifle where he could, ripping out the throats of anyone who got in his way.

The tear of rending flesh and bone only fed the beast. Alexi gripped Belle’s neck in one big, meaty hand.

Belle had partially shifted, trying to assume her battle form, but Alexi’s grip kept her weak enough she couldn’t quite complete the change.

More gunfire sounded behind him, and Jarod felt the sting as bullets hit him twice in the back, which only enraged his wolf more.

With a howl of pure rage, Jarod turned to see Terra firing her weapon in rapid succession, appearing to aim for Alexi, but missing by a wide margin.

She couldn’t be that bad a shot. When he turned back to Belle, he saw she’d taken one in the arm as well.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he bellowed through a haze of rage and desperation. In her human form, even partially shifting, Belle was exceedingly vulnerable.

“Stay still. I’ll get him this time.” Terra took aim again, but Jarod jumped into her line of fire, taking a bullet in the chest that would have surely ripped through Belle’s head.

His vision went dark and the room swam in a sea of red. A blood-curdling scream sounded behind him as Belle saw him take the hit. “I will rip your head off, bitch!”

The change in Belle’s voice told Jarod she’d shifted to battle form. Evidently rage and terror had given her the edge she’d needed to escape Alexi.

The wet sound of fresh meat being ripped apart -- Belle fighting her way free -- filled his ears.

Alexi’s howl of pain was second only to the sharp pop, pop, pop of Terra’s weapon as she fired repeatedly.

Blood and sweat combined to create a sickly sweet, coppery scent Jarod was sure would never come out of his fur, no matter how much he scrubbed.

His chest was on fire, and he and Belle were still in danger.

No way he believed Terra was that bad a shot. He shifted to wolf form.

“Say goodnight, Alexi,” Terra sneered as she fired several times point blank into the surprised face of the pack leader. Then Alexi’s head exploded in a spray of blood and brain and bone. Yup. That would do it. One of the few ways to really kill a werewolf, Jarod was learning.

Belle reached Jarod, realizing Alexi was dead and had shifted back to human form.

She expertly ran her hands over Jarod’s chest, removing bits of cloth and fur so she could see the wound.

Jarod snarled and snapped in Terra’s direction, but Belle wasn’t paying attention to him, apparently thinking he was crazed with pain.

No matter how much he wanted to shift, to let her know Terra was a threat, he couldn’t overrule his instinct to protect. The battle wolf stayed firmly in place.

“Officer down! Officer down!” Terra barked into her radio. “I need help with extraction. Second-floor balcony!” Then she spun backwards, smashing her rifle butt into Jarod’s temple, knocking him down the stairs. Only his wolf form saved him. He tucked his head under his paws and rolled.

“Get back, Belle,” Callahan called out as his men charged up from the other side.

Terra threw another clip in her magazine, whirling to face Belle. “Die, you mongrel bitch!”

Jarod scrambled back to his feet, shifting back to human form and reaching for his fallen rifle. One problem. From where he’d landed he didn’t have a clear line of sight. Callahan’s pack was closing in on Sergei now, and he was between Terra and Belle.

From out of nowhere, a full Alpha wolf female with black fur flew through the air.

Terra’s rifle went flying as she went down, shifting to a smaller, gray wolf before her feet -- paws -- hit the floor.

Snarling and snapping, she twisted in mid air, trying to throw Amanda from her neck, but Amanda dug in with all the power of an enraged female protecting her mate.

Blood sprayed the walls until, watching as he bounded up the stairwell, Jarod couldn’t tell if either female would survive.

When Callahan got to the top, the two females blocked his path, the larger black wolf standing stiff-legged over the shattered corpse of the older gray wolf, blood dripping from her jowls where she’d ripped out the throat of Terra White.

Slowly, deliberately, the black female spread her legs wide, letting out a stream of acrid-smelling urine to mark her kill.

“Oh, now that’s just gross.” Belle’s laughter broke the tension in the room, and the Memphis pack took a moment to survey their casualties.

“Thank you.” Sergei’s heavily accented voice filled the room as he raised his hand in what looked like a surrendering gesture. “Alexi was leading the pack to ruin, and his bitch here was just as bad.”

Jarod couldn’t get a clear line of sight on Sergei -- not without risking hitting Amanda or Belle.

A staccato of shots rang out, and Sergei went down, his final sneer dying on his lips.

Callahan moved over the fallen wolf, thrusting the muzzle of his rifle into the old bastard’s face.

He didn’t quit firing till there was nothing left of the old wolf’s head.

“Now who’s the mongrel?” he sneered. “So much for Old World blood.”

“We’re still missing one,” Amanda noted, surveying the carnage. “Remmy said the true Alpha was here. The old man. Dorf Umarov, Sr.”

As one, the pack circled, backs to the fallen, rifles at the ready.

“The blueprints showed an apartment on the top floor,” Remmy reminded them.

That meant the elevators. Jarod surveyed the landing uncomfortably. The whole place reeked of blood and death and gunfire. He wouldn’t have been able to smell an entire pack moving in on them right now. He really didn’t like the idea of climbing in that little metal box…”No other way up?”

“How do we know he’s even there?” Callahan asked, evidently sharing Jarod’s view of the elevators.

“Do you hear that?” Butch Carson cocked his head to one side.

“Helicopter!” Regan hollered, bolting toward the stairs.

“Secure the building,” Miller ordered the pack below. “No one leaves!”

As one the Memphis pack Alphas shifted and bolted up the stairs, Miller at the lead.

Jarod didn’t have time to wonder at the sight of the FBI Liaison turning to an enormous silver and black wolf, taking the stairs three at a leap.

He’d ponder that later. Though it really shouldn’t have been a surprise…

Butch was first to the top of the stairs, shifting to battle form so he could manage the doors, he and Regan throwing their full shifted weight against them until the locks gave way and they tumbled onto the roof.

The small chopper had slowed its blades to land, but not shut down completely. The older Alpha cursed fluently in Russian as he slammed the passenger door shut.

“He’s going to get away!” Regan yelled over the roar of the blades, and the chopper attempted to take off.

Miller sprayed the front of the copter with his M-16. Bullets shattered the windshield bubbling the cockpit. Blood splattered over the interior, coating the windows in a bright red arch. “No, he’s not,” Miller muttered.

Regan ducked and rolled, coming up on the pilot’s door and wrenching it open.

The she wolf barely missed being clipped by the rear rotor and Jarod inhaled sharply.

The top rotor couldn’t be but a few inches from her head, threatening to pull her hair into the upwash.

The pilot spilled out to the rooftop, shifting, healing even as he hit the asphalt.

Regan grabbed the doorframe and swung both feet into the wounded passenger, kicking him out the far side of the shattered cockpit before she swung into the bloody pilot’s chair and killed the motor.

Jarod heard the sound of two more shots ringing out and turned to see Remmy blow the top off the pilot’s head.

Miller turned to battle form faster than Jarod had ever seen a wolf shift, launching himself at the Old World Alpha.

The pack circled, closing in, ready to rip the Alpha to shreds, but letting Miller have the kill.

The battle was short and fierce -- a lunge, a feint, and Miller’s jaws closed over the older wolf’s throat.

Shaking his head fiercely, he tore the Alpha’s throat.

Shifting, Miller stepped back. “Don’t leave anything that can be put back together,” he ordered. “And burn the corpses.”