“What the fuck?”
Sloane looked around the table. “Holy shit.”
Ash joined him, his jaw dropping. “Is that…. That’s our BearCat.”
Hobbs appeared in front of Sloane. He jabbed a finger at Hudson, then in the direction of the truck before making a driving motion.
“Hudson’s driving?” Ash asked, confused.
Sloane’s eyes went wide. “No. Hudson’s brother is driving.”
The BearCat came plowing through the parking lot, aiming for every armed mercenary in its path. It soared over the grassy hill, and everyone scrambled out of the way as it skidded and turned, the back of it plowing through the restaurant’s fence. A hailstorm of bullets followed.
The back doors opened, and Wolf jumped out. He looked like he’d just stepped out of a damned Armani ad. With a wide grin, he tossed Hobbs the keys.
“There you go. Sorry I’m late. Dreadful traffic in this city.”
“Gear up,” Sloane ordered, and everyone ran for the back of the BearCat to grab vests and firearms. Wolf crouched beside Sloane, his expression softening when he saw Hudson. He ran a hand over Hudson’s head.
“How is he?”
“Okay, just out. You knew, didn’t you?” Sloane asked, motioning to the BearCat behind him.
“The Makhai are making their move. Whatever they’re up to, it’s big. I’ve been monitoring certain channels of chatter. Unfortunately the Makhai are very good at what they do, and I was only able to decipher one of their encrypted messages, which stated t
hey planned to take Hudson today.”
“So you’ve been watching Hudson.”
Wolf nodded. He brushed Hudson’s hair away from his brow. His steel-blue eyes flashed, and Sloane swallowed hard at the transformation.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me. I have some Makhai to kill.”
Before Sloane could say a word, Wolf was off. He didn’t sneak or duck for cover. He stood, unbuttoned his suit jacket, and removed the guns with silencers strapped to the thin black balistic vest. Sloane had never seen anything like it. Wolf walked straight into the zone of fire. One bullet to the head of every Makhai mercenary who made the mistake of showing himself.
Sloane hoisted Hudson onto his shoulder and stood. He ran to the back of the BearCat. His team had their shields out and were positioned around the truck, returning fire.
“Seb,” Sloane called out. Where the hell was he?
“In here,” Seb said, and Sloane noticed his knuckles were bloodied and there was a splatter of blood across his T-shirt. When Seb saw him looking, he motioned inside the truck. “It’s his.”
“Help me with him.” Sloane turned so Seb could grab Hudson and carry him inside the truck, and then Seb helped Sloane up. Hudson lay on the bench, and on the floor next to him, the “jogger” lay on his stomach, his wrists and ankles zip-tied behind him. His face was a bloody mess, one eye swollen shut. His nose was broken, and there were a couple of teeth on the floor.
“He’s not talking,” Seb growled, kicking the guy for good measure.
“Sloane.”
Sloane turned to Letty, who stood at the back of the truck.
“Yeah?”
“They’re gone.”
“And Wolf?”
She shook her head. “He’s gone too.”
Ash appeared beside her. “My guess is he’s not going to just let them walk away. Personally, whatever those assholes get, they deserve.”