hail of gunfire. Cursing, she loaded a fresh magazine in her weapon, then followed, firing rapid shots at the armed men facing them, focused on trying to hit as many as she could.
The British werewolf closed on the shooters so fast Harley could barely keep up with him. Under his long overcoat, his body twisted and spasmed in a partial shift she’d never even attempt, his claws and fangs extending even as he continued to fire his weapon. Even though he got hit multiple times, he still kept running toward them.
Within seconds, they were both in the middle of a group of bad guys. The large automatic pistol they’d gotten off the dead guy earlier locked back on an empty magazine. She flipped the pistol backward to hold it by the barrel, ready to swing it like a club.
“Go after them,” the British werewolf said, ripping out a man’s throat with claws that had to be an inch and a half long. “Save as many of the captives as you can.”
She didn’t want to leave him to fight on his own, but she also couldn’t let the traffickers get away with the prisoners. Dropping the borrowed handgun she pulled her 9mm out and ran as fast as she could, praying she didn’t get a bullet in the back for her trouble.
When she got to the archway at the end of the room, Harley slowed as she realized it opened into a tunnel. It was dark in both directions, but she headed up the ramp, sure that’s where the fresh air was coming from. Dead Eyes’s stench seemed stronger in that direction, too.
Harley raced up the incline to the end of the tunnel and cautiously stepped out into an underground parking garage where she saw two vans disappearing up a ramp and a third starting its engine even as a man in a ragged leather jacket carried an unconscious woman toward the open back doors. Harley sprinted toward it, wishing for once that she could shift enough to run as fast as any other werewolf. But she’d never been able to do that, which meant she probably wouldn’t be able to catch the man before he made it to the back of the van with his captive.
Sliding to a stop, Harley lifted her weapon, hoping she’d hit the guy and not the woman. She squeezed the trigger slow and steady, just like Jake had taught her, and hit the bad guy in the leg. He went down, the girl tumbling from his arms.
Harley hurried toward the downed man and van still idling. If she reached it, she might be able to save a few more prisoners. But then a young guy with long black hair hopped out of the back of the van and came at her, a knife in his hand.
She barely had enough time to mutter a curse before he suddenly disappeared into thin air. Half a heartbeat later, the guy popped back into existence right in front of her, thrusting the blade into her chest at the same time he rammed into her with the impact of a Mack truck. Her 9mm went flying before she could even think about pulling the trigger.
Hitting the concrete floor so hard she bounced and slid five feet, she fought off the urge to lie there and wait for the pain to subside. She had to find her weapon.
She rolled onto her side and saw her gun a few feet away. Unfortunately, the guy with the long hair was heading straight for her with that damn knife again. She lunged for her weapon, coming up with it and spinning around to fire all in one smooth move. But the man disappeared before the bullet reached him and it ricocheted into the darkness as the slide of her weapon locked back on an empty magazine.
Oh crap.
The man popped back into view by her hip, the blade coming at her throat. She threw a hand up to block the knife only to see the man jerk sideways as the sound of gunfire filled the parking garage. A split second later, he disappeared again, reappearing beside the guy she’d shot in the leg and the still unconscious girl. He moved to pick her up, but the other guy shoved him away.
“Leave her,” he said. “We don’t have time. We have to get out of here.”
The guy with the long hair hesitated but then helped his partner in crime up and got him into the van,