Jaxson sighed. “All right, the guard. Same drill as before. Murphy, we need him conscious.”
“You got it, boss.” He shifted his claws in and out.
Maybe Jaxson would let Murphy take point in tormenting the passcode out of the guard. Jaxson did what he had to, but he took no pleasure from it. And he’d already had his fill for the night.
“Okay, we’ll have to make this fast. Once we take the shack, Taylor works the control system from the inside. Maybe we can get access that way. Murphy, you go to work on the guard. Jace, Rich, and I will get ready for whatever’s going to storm out of the warehouse once we attack. I’m sure they’ve got—”
The crunch of car tires interrupted him. A beam of headlights swept across the shrubbery in front of them. Everyone dropped to a tighter crouch in their hiding spot, while Jaxson peered through the branches, searching for the source. A white van pulled to a stop at the guard shack.
“White van.” Jace’s voice was low and tight. That’s all they had for a description of the vehicle used to snatch Cassie, but it was enough.
“New plan,” Jaxson said to all of them. “Get that goddamned van before it breaches the gate. Go.”
The five of them sprung from their hiding spot and raced toward the van and the guard who had just stepped out of his shack. Murphy and Rich shifted mid-sprint, using their wolf forms to run faster and get there first. Their black coats and silent paws meant the guard barely had warning before they descended upon him in a flurry of midnight fur and fangs. Jaxson took the driver’s side while Taylor went passenger-side. Jace bee-lined to the back door of the van. The ripping sound of claws going through steel tore through the night just as Jaxson arrived at the driver’s still-open window. One solid fist to the face put the driver down. Taylor had him covered with his gun from the passenger side, but there was no need. Jaxson waved him off. Then he pulled open the door and dragged the driver out into the dirt.
A scream from the guard drew Jaxson’s attention. Murphy had the man’s throat in his jaws, and Rich had clamped down on a leg. The scream must have been from that, but the guard wasn’t struggling. He seemed to realize he wasn’t dead yet, but Murphy could make him that way if he moved. Jaxson pulled his weapon and pointed it at the guard’s head, just in case.
“Jace!” Jaxson called to the back of the van. “What do we have?”
“I’ve got her!” Jace yelled from inside the van. That was followed by a muffled whimper and Jace’s voice dropped to soft and reassuring.
Liquid relief flushed through Jaxson’s body. On the heels of that emotion came the need to shoot the driver lying in the dust as well as the prone guard. But he resisted. Dead bodies with his pack’s DNA all over them? Not worth the sweet taste of revenge.
A klaxon sound roared through the air, and million-watt spotlights sprung to life outside the warehouse. Black shapes spilled from a side door.
Shit.
“Everyone in the van!” Jaxson shouted.
Bullets pinged the ground, and Taylor went down in the dirt on the passenger side. Goddammit. Jaxson climbed into the driver’s side and army-crawled across the bench to reach the passenger door. Glass from the windshield shattered as a bullet found a home there. Jaxson flung open the door. Taylor was down but still moving. Jaxson reached down and hauled him up into the cab. A glance up showed the paramilitary guys who had disgorged from the warehouse were held up at the still-closed gate. They couldn’t touch it—one was screaming orders for it to open up while the others sent a spray of bullets thunking into the van. Jaxson felt one clip his arm before he managed to duck back behind the cover of the dash.
“Jace! Are we clear?” Jaxson shouted over the sound of ripping metal and bullet retorts.
“Clear! Clear! Clear!” Jace yelled, which meant Murphy and Rich must have made it into the back of the van.
Jaxson threw the van in reverse and floored it. He was driving blind, but he had to put distance between the van and the gate before the reinforcements managed to get it open. He mapped the terrain from memory, remembering the slight curve in the dirt road just before it reached the warehouse and how it met up with the paved city road. A hard bounce told him he’d reached the pavement, so he cranked the wheel, which brought the lit-up warehouse into view through the side window.
The gate was just starting to spring open.
Jaxson popped upright in the driver’s seat, slammed the brakes, then shoved the van into drive. Another hard turn brought him around facing the right direction to make their escape, peeling rubber but accelerating as fast as the lumbering rental van could manage. It felt like driving through molasses compared to the bullets still biting the ground and pinging the metal of the van, but after ten, long heart-stopping seconds, they reached another turn in the road. He took it as fast as he could without rolling the van.