"They're going to try to throw them," Airiana said.
She sounded unfazed, and Hannah glanced at her. "There's more of them than I thought Evan would send. Why so many?" If she told Jonas he might try to get to her, and that would leave the team in Sea Haven vulnerable.
Airiana shrugged. "We can handle it."
The men were already running up the drive toward the house. Two of the Swords fell behind, both with long, thick, blond hair, but they kept coming. Hannah boosted the wind coming off the ocean and sent it toward them, a small test. The gust hit the men in the chest and they paused for a moment, the force of the breeze catching them off guard.
Along the drive the vines stirred ominously, moving against the wind. The first six coming toward the house didn't appear to notice, but the two in the back slowed to a halt and looked around them. They split up, moving closer to the vines, but on opposite sides of the drive.
One of the men with blond, almost platinum hair ripped his jacket from his body and tossed it aside, right into the vines. The vines caught the jacket as if they were alive, pulling the Swords colors into the thick mass of dark green leaves until it disappeared. The other blond did the same. Simultaneously the two men pulled on another jacket, these bearing the colors of Torpedo Ink. Both continued up the drive behind the other club members.
The air suddenly charged with electricity, a fast buildup that shocked the two women on the widow's walk. Small flurries Hannah had been using to slowly build the wind were suddenly towering clouds exploding from sea to sky. She turned her head to look at Airiana, who was looking at her.
"Not me," Airiana denied.
The gate had been deliberately left open as if overlooked, and the first four Sword members lit rags and stuffed them in the bottles as they ran through it toward the house. The men flung the bottles, but the wind caught them in midair, hurling them right back at the club members. The bottles, with deadly aim, hit all four in the chest hard enough to break the glass and explode the liquid all over them. The flames licked out and all four screamed. The other two Swords flung their bottles at the house without real aim, rushing to the aid of their companions.
The wind caught the bottles, spun them in a wild display of flames and smoke, and then launched them back at the men who threw them. One hit the man squarely in the face, breaking, spraying alcohol over him along with shattered glass. He went down hard, but rolled, coming up with his gun. He began firing blindly as if his finger was stuck on the trigger.
The second bottle hit the man's shoulder and careened off. He drew out a weapon as well. The driver of the van leapt out. He was carrying an automatic rifle. The blond with the lightest hair turned and fired a single bullet. The driver went over backward, sprawling out on the drive.
Three of the four men on fire had dropped and rolled in an attempt to put out the flames. The fourth ran straight into the vines, shrieking in a high-pitched voice. The vines opened around him and then enfolded him with twisted, dark stick-like arms, dragging him into their midst. The flames didn't appear to affect the green leaves in the least. There was no withering or shrinking from the heat. Vines began to wrap around the man's neck like a noose, other vines encircling him like a mummy. The shrieks were cut off, and then he was deep inside the thick maze of vines, with no part of him showing, not even a shoe.
One of the Swords on fire was consumed with flames and lay still. The ground beneath his body opened and he was slowly dragged beneath the earth. Two of the men had stripped off shirts and thrown them, and were now firing steadily. Bullets flew, mostly aimed at the house. The bullets didn't seem able to penetrate the howling wind, stopping in midflight. Just hanging there in the air.
They turned back, as if to leave, saw the two blonds and immediately opened fire on them. Both blonds already had weapons out and were also firing. One winced, and went down on his knee. The wind faltered even as the two men who had shot at them went down hard.
The second blond rushed to cover the first. Matt came out of the vines, firing his weapon at the other men, covering the two blond men. Matt's bullets took down two of the remaining three, and the big blond shot the last one. Tyson came out of the brush to kick away weapons.
Matt went up to the two blonds, his weapon not quite aiming at either of them, but somewhere between them. "You Viktor's boys?"
The one standing nodded. He reached down and helped his brother up. "I'm Storm. This is Ice."
Blood spread across Ice's shirt, down low, in the region of his ribs.
"We've got to go. Evan brought in far more men than any of us expected. You might get into town and see if you can help out the sheriff. He's going to need it," Storm continued.
"Let the girls take a look at that wound," Tyson advised. "You're not going to be of any help if you go down, and it won't take long."
Ice shook his head, his face pale and little drops of sweat beading on his forehead. Storm ignored him. "Get them out here fast."
Tyson glanced up at the two women on the widow's walk, but both faced the village of Sea Haven, already in position to help out the sheriff. He jogged up the drive, yanked open the door and called for Kate and Joley.
*
JONAS Harrington watched through binoculars as a swarm of men wearing Swords colors roared into town. They drove straight down the street toward the ocean, their bikes loud, announcing their presence. He counted them from his vantage point on the roof of Inez's grocery store. A good twenty coming at them, and he was certain he'd heard more coming from another direction.
He should have felt better now that he knew Hannah and the others were safe at the Drake house. Hannah had sent the wind to him and he'd breathed a sigh of relief, but that nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach just wouldn't let him go. Not even now, when he knew what he faced.
He didn't like that Jackson was relying on strangers to keep him alive, but he couldn't be in two places at one time and he understood that Jackson and Elle were trying to protect him, to keep him from having to do anything illegal. He understood--but he didn't have to like it. Right now, his gut told him something wasn't right.
An explosion coming from behind him and toward the ocean rocked the entire building. He knew the gas station had blown. He glanced to see the towering columns of orange-red flames and black smoke. A diversion to keep law enforcement and firefighters concentrated there while the others did their jobs.
He adjusted the binoculars and watched as a small red-headed woman walked down the main street of Sea Haven, her hands in the air as if she were surrendering to the four men who had just blown up the gas station. He wasn't as sorry to see the gas station go as he should have been--they'd been price gouging for years.
Lissa Prakenskii was a fire element, he knew. He'd never seen one and didn't know exactly what they could do, but the flames seemed to be responding to her direction, staying contained in a single long column rising toward the clouds like a fiery tower. The flames didn't spread, but kept rising, fed by the fuel tanks in the ground.
The four men watching the flames seemed to become aware of Lissa, turning one by one, first heads and then bodies. One began to laugh. Another smiled. All four went for their weapons. Lissa's hands moved, a blur of speed. She drew a gun from her waistband and fired twice, dropping two of them.
A second gun fired twice and the remaining men went down. Jonas recognized the woman joining Lissa. Viktor referred to her as Alena. A third woman, tall with glossy dark hair, joined them and they checked the bodies before turning and sprinting toward the street where the sound of motorcycles had come to a halt. Both Alena and the new woman wore Torpedo Ink colors. He knew the other woman had to be Lana. Viktor had said to watch for her. Both women were trained assassins just like the other members of their club--something he wasn't happy about but right now was an asset.
He turned his attention back to the members of the Swords club. They weren't local and just coming into this territory could start a war, but Evan didn't care if he sacrificed his
members in order to get his revenge on Jackson and Elle.
Jonas felt the light touch of the wind on his face and his heart gave him that funny melting sensation it always did when his wife brushed her fingertips over his skin. A light caress, and he knew that was his woman alone, just for him. Then the tug of the wind grew stronger and he felt Airiana merge with her.
The kick nearly blew him off the roof. The two women together were lethal. He watched as the men parked their bikes across from the store. The wind blew across their bodies, but it wasn't a gust, more like a long rush of air testing them. He felt the buildup coming in from the sea. The moisture in the air. Then receding as if the wind had been called back and went out over the ocean.
He found himself holding his breath as Kate kicked in power. He'd grown up with the Drake sisters and he knew each one and how they felt when they joined together. He didn't understand how the Swords, now swaggering across the street, didn't feel the swelling power. Then Joley joined with Hannah, Kate and Airiana. Out at sea, waves leapt into the air and crashed against the bluff and cliffs, breaking over high-towering stacks and rocks, foaming white against the darkness.
Another woman joined the other four, Judith Prakenskii. He knew her as well, but had no idea she was so powerful. The five women were joined and woven together so tightly, he couldn't feel them separately. The wind shrieked as it rose off the surface of the ocean and raced toward shore. It didn't slow as it hit the first street of Sea Haven, rattling windows and tearing at the signs.
Jonas saw Lissa grab both women and they raced for the alleyway. Ducking inside, they crouched low and held on to the fence. He braced himself, dropping the binoculars and gripping the wooden strip in front of him. Howling, the wind roared straight up the street. The powerful force tore up everything in its path, papers off the bulletin board on the fence, where it had been for years. The awning off the coffee shop. The sign above one of the clothing shops.
The men turned as it hit them, knocking them into one another, as if the wind was an actual physical blow. Their bikes, parked in a single long row, went over one at a time like dominos. That had to be his wife's touch. He smiled in spite of himself.
"This is the sheriff. Put down your weapons and get your hands in the air," he shouted, without any hope that they would obey. The Swords were a club back east, and they were reputed to be brutal and bloody, one very high up on the FBI's watch list. He'd bet his last dollar that every man down there had a rap sheet a mile long and probably was wanted. He knew they wouldn't surrender, but he was the law, and the law required him to try.
A hail of bullets thudded into the building, some breaking glass and some tearing into the wood around him. He glared toward the Drake house, but kept his head down.
Lissa, Alena and Lana ran behind the ferocious wind, spreading out, each picking a building. They climbed easily and ran along the rooftops, Lissa coming in on the other side of the street. Alena and Lana chose the building next to the store on the same side of the street. Lana, crouched low, swept past him, blowing him a kiss as she jumped to the next rooftop.
Lissa returned fire, choosing a man holding a grenade in his hand. He went down, and the Swords member next to him kicked at the grenade. The wind slammed down between the club members and the store, providing an invisible barrier, at the same time throwing everything back at the men in the street.
They scattered, diving for cover, running to get away from the blast. The grenade exploded, shredding the metal into flying shrapnel. The metal fragments were about a quarter of an inch thick, the size of a thumbnail, very jagged and sharp. Most of the Swords were able to get clear, but two were just inside the target range, the shards ripping into them, penetrating deep and tearing flesh.
The explosion sounded a little louder than a twelve-gauge shotgun going off close to them. Ears rang. Smoke rose, and when it cleared there was an inch-deep chip in the asphalt with a circumference of about six inches. The concussion wave was fairly mild and broke out the windows in the store across the street from the market. The wave hit the Harleys already down on the street, lifting two into the air and slamming them back down hard onto the others.
The screams of the two injured Swords were loud. Two of their buddies dragged them behind the relative cover of the roof sheltering the sidewalk under the building where Jonas was.
Cursing, they fired upwards, as if that could possibly hit the sheriff. Lissa shot the two men, and then, as the others tried to bolt around the corner of the building, she shot them as well.
Most of the Swords fired at Jonas, trying to take out the sheriff before he could call for backup. He chose his targets carefully and methodically, taking his time, squeezing the trigger, making every bullet count. The wind continued to protect the store from any assault on it, but there was no way to shield him completely from the rain of bullets.
Jonas felt the kiss of one bullet along his bicep and another skimmed the top of his shoulder. The bite was hot and fierce, but he ignored it and kept firing, as did Lissa. She was good, picking her targets the way he was.
Alena climbed down from the roof on the far side, away from the gunfire. She was better moving fast through the targets, rather than sitting up on a rooftop picking them off one by one. She could fire a weapon and hit what she was aiming at, but she'd never been the best marksman. She jumped the last few feet, landing lightly, knowing Lana was doing the same.
Lana was the younger birth sister of one of the other men in Torpedo Ink, Kashmir. They called him Preacher. They'd lost two older siblings to the school. Lana was nicknamed "Widow," not because she was one, but because she made them. She was lethal with her tall, curvy body and shiny black hair. She attracted men easily and they fell all over her, never knowing she was a very dangerous woman.
Alena always felt that, next to Lana, she looked pale and washed out. She had glossy platinum hair like her brothers, thick and wild, her eyes the same icy blue, but she was not short and not tall, just average. Easy to overlook. Underestimate.
She had loathed being with the Swords, even though Viktor protected her by declaring she was off-limits because she was his old lady. That hadn't stopped her from hearing the disgusting way they talked about women, especially the ones they trafficked in. They told horrible, vile stories of gang rape, laughing when they talked about the girls being virgins and so young, but how they "wanted it." Most treated their old ladies, if they had them, with disrespect and often used them to run drugs or guns.
She'd had to relive her childhood over and over. She had tried to put those memories in a closet in her mind. She had to work to keep the door shut on them, but the Swords' treatment of women and children sickened her and the nightmares had come back in full force. She'd recognized three of the worst offenders, men who were sadistic and cruel and enjoyed the damage they inflicted on young children, boys and girls alike. They had no idea what was about to be unleashed on them.
She moved with the wind, a silent, deadly predator, sliding through the darkness like a wraith. Bypassing two of the club members shooting toward the sheriff, she slipped up behind the third one. He and two of his friends always worked together, taking women in the clubhouse and hurting them, laughing when they did. They leered at her, made suggestive remarks, but they were afraid of Viktor and they'd never touched her. They should have been afraid of her.
"Harold," she said softly, standing right behind him. Close. Close so that her breath was warm against his ear. "You're a sick bastard and I'm going to kill you." She didn't do it cleanly. She sliced through arteries as she spoke, the burn of the blade cutting through flesh. Her knife was so sharp he hardly felt the deep cuts to first his gut, and then both thighs.
Alena stepped back as he spun around, his gun still in his hand. He had a shocked expression on his face as she disarmed him, the weapon flying toward the street. "You're dead," she explained softly. "Just like all those women you hurt." She left him bleeding out and faded into the night.
Twice more she r
epeated the ritual, dispatching two of the worst Swords members in the Louisiana chapter. Code was taking Evan's empire apart, starting with the club's finances and moving on to Evan's personal ones. Torpedo Ink was benefiting from his creative hacking, but it didn't seem to slow the club from trafficking. She wanted it stopped as much as Viktor and the others did.
She slipped back into the shadows as two more men joined Jonas Harrington in the firefight. One was a sharpshooter. She heard the difference in his rifle. The club members began to try to ease back with too many of their brethren lying in the street dead.
In the distance she heard the wail of sirens. Evan had been right in his thinking. Creating this diversion would send all law enforcement converging on Sea Haven, leaving Jackson Deveau completely alone--except he had Torpedo Ink to protect him. The other nine members had ridden in with Habit and were there to back up Viktor as they always did.
Alena crept through the darkened street toward her next target, Ben Higgler, a particularly nasty individual. She had to admire the Torpedo Ink members. They'd all managed to be so useful to Habit that he'd surrounded himself with them when Evan had commanded Habit to send several of his men with representatives of the other chapters.
The Swords hitting Sea Haven had thought to tear up a sleepy town with no way to defend itself. They hadn't come with the big guns Evan had brought with him to the various camps at Egg Taking Station. There were so many she was terrified for her brothers in Torpedo Ink. She'd grown up since infancy with all of them. Ice and Storm were her birth brothers, sharing her blood, but all of the others were just as much her siblings. She loved them and she had wanted to be with them when she saw the enormity of their task.
One didn't disobey Viktor. His plans always worked if you had faith and didn't deviate. They'd all learned that from hard experience. In the school, if one diverted, or in any way changed details, even when the mission was fluid, loss of life had always been the result. Most times, it hadn't been one's own life, but one of the other children. Living with that guilt and sin was nearly impossible.