Primal Law (Alpha Pack #1)(4)

She peeled out, fishtailed, then straightened the vehicle and sped toward the company's entrance. A glance in the rearview mirror revealed that a couple of men in suits had joined the guards, who were waving their arms in agitation. The men broke off from the guards and jogged toward a dark sedan parked close to the building.

Kira turned her attention to the small guardhouse at the entrance, the orange-and-white-striped arms extending across both the in and out lanes. Normally, she'd stop and swipe her badge to raise the arm, but with two goons chasing her who were probably also armed and ready to shoot first, ask questions later? She'd skip the formalities.

Flooring the accelerator, she gripped the steering wheel tight and rammed through the barrier, cringing at the awful crunch of wood and metal. She risked another look to see the arm go flying, snapped like a toothpick. The dark sedan was now in hot pursuit.

And unshakable. Whatever the sleek model was the ass**les were driving, it obviously had more juice than an ancient Camry held together by wire and duct tape. She was lucky it had crashed the gate and come through in one piece, and from the sound of the gears grinding and the engine wheezing, her dubious fortune wasn't going to last much longer.

Correction: Her luck had run out weeks ago when she'd started hallucinating visions of a sexy dead guy-was that an oxymoron?-begging for help, and she'd actually listened.

Where in the hell could she go? The police station wasn't far. She knew a couple of officers, one a detective. And she'd tell them, what? That she was in possession of stolen property and being shot at? That would turn away her pursuers for now, but she'd likely be arrested, the property returned to NewLife, and she'd have nothing to prove her claims. Such as they were.

So the police were out. Which left the airport. If she could just lose these pit bulls, she'd go there, buy a ticket to anywhere. Somewhere random, get a hotel room. Then she'd call a colleague who was a doctor specializing in genetics, arrange to meet him. With someone in the medical field on her side, she might have a chance at getting somewhere with proving what the docs at NewLife were up to.

Which would have been a great plan if the Camry hadn't given up the ghost. The damned thing coughed, sputtered . . . and died.

"No!" Yanking the steering wheel, she guided the car off the side street and into a darkened parking lot. Coasting to a stop, she put the car in park and took in her surroundings.

She was one street off the Strip, behind one of the casinos and off the beaten path. And the bad guys had just screeched to a stop next to her car, on the driver's side.

Both of them emerged from the sedan, the moonlight reflecting off the guns in their hands. They exchanged a look and then approached with slow, confident strides, wearing identical expressions of malicious triumph.

The man who'd been the passenger opened her door, grabbed her by the arm, and jerked her out, slamming her back against the side of her car.

"Seems you've been snooping where you don't belong," he sneered into her face. "The underground level is restricted for a reason. Why don't you tell us what you hoped to discover down there? Or maybe you did find something you shouldn't have." He turned his head, called to his partner. "See what Sweet Cheeks has in her purse."

Kira took advantage of his momentary distraction and brought her knee up hard between his spread legs, doing her best to relocate his balls. Letting out a hoarse cry, the man clutched his crotch and fell to his knees.

Kira took a deep breath, and released a scream loud enough to wake the dead.

"Did anyone ask Hammer if he wanted to ride along this trip?"

Jaxon Law studied Zander Cole's profile as the dark-haired man guided the Mercedes SUV through heavy traffic on the Strip. True to his nature as a Healer, his best friend was always thinking of those who were broken-and how to fix them. Not that Hammer was necessarily broken; the big, quiet man was just . . . scary different. "I did. He said he wanted to go to bed early and read."

From the back, Aric snorted. "Jesus. Is he going to do his knitting, too?"

Beside Aric, Ryon piped up. "Quilting."

"What?"

Jaxon craned his neck and eyed the pair, snickering at Aric's puzzled expression. The big redhead was frowning at Ryon as though he'd uttered a foreign word.

"He doesn't knit-he quilts," Ryon said slowly, as though speaking to a three-year-old. "Says it calms him. He's pretty good at it, too. You should see the detail in his designs-"

"Calms him?" Zan interrupted, brows lifting. "God, if he was any more laid-back he'd be dead."

Jaxon put in his two cents. "I think what we see on the outside of that guy is a carefully controlled mask. Wouldn't surprise me if he's the most dangerous dude any of us know."

On that point, he got no argument. Jaxon, Zander, Aric, and Ryon had been together since they were Navy SEALs-a promising career cut short years ago when their unit was attacked by rogue weres, more than half of them slaughtered and the rest, including the four of them, turned into wolf shifters. But Hammer, along with their new boss Nick Westfall, had only been with Alpha Pack for a few months. Those two were born shifters, a fact that had the team and the doctors and scientists at the Institute of Parapsychology completely fascinated.

Nick, a rare white wolf, had replaced the deceased Terry Noble and brought Hammer with him to the team when they both left the FBI, and Jax had to admit the newbies were working out pretty well. Nick was tough-as-nails, but fair, and knew how to laugh at himself when the situation called for it. Unlike Terry, he wasn't above having a beer with the guys, and he sometimes joined them when their wolves needed to run and hunt. He had their backs, always.