Gripping the hand holding the weapon, Jordan struggled to wrestle it from his assailant before he could fire again.
“Bastard!” A harsh cry from the knee Jordan drove into his attacker’s crotch as the gun went off, ripping along his side as Jordan snarled at the pain.
His fist slammed into a jaw as he jerked the weapon from the other man’s hand and tossed it across the floor. He was going in for another shot when the bedroom door slammed open, flooding the room with just enough light to momentarily blind him.
He jumped in the direction of the weapon he had just tossed to the side.
“Clear.” It was Micah’s voice, icy cold and dangerous, that assured him the intruders were friendly rather than enemy.
Without hesitation, Jordan jumped to his feet and went across the bed in a hard roll to come to a crouch where Tehya was supposed to be.
Instead of moving to a point of protection, she was finishing a quick knot to the belt from her robe around the hands of the first assailant.
She had jerked his shirt back on, two buttons secured just beneath her breasts. Red-gold curls flowed wildly around her shoulders, her cat’s eyes glittered with rage and fear.
“Where are the others?” Jordan snapped as he jerked his pants from the bottom of the bed and quickly pulled them on, his gaze going between the two disabled men as Micah secured the second.
“Front room,” Micah answered, his dark gaze piercing between the edges of the black mask he wore over his face. “We cleared the hall and the rest of the suite.”
“Get these fuckers to the reserve suite.” Rage was pulsing through him, eating at him as he turned, his gaze going over Tehya once again as she stared at the unconscious attacker at her feet.
Jordan had only disabled him, Tehya must have moved behind him and knocked the man out.
What the hell had made him think that she would actually move for safety? He wanted her safe. Wrapped in protective cotton, as she had said earlier. And God help him, he knew as long as this danger existed, there would be no chance of her ever knowing peace, or security.
Black-masked, moving with dangerous precision, Jordan’s team moved in, gathered up the unconscious assailants and rushed them from the suite to the room next door.
Micah, Noah, and Nik had been staying there while John, Bailey, Travis, and Lilly had taken rooms across the hall.
The two couples were in the front room, faces unmasked, weapons held ready as they covered the opened, connecting door.
Watching from the bedroom door as the two men were dragged into the secured suite, Jordan could feel his teeth clenching in nearly uncontrolled fury.
The need to kill beat in his veins, threatening to override his control. He could tear their heads from their bodies. The thought of it had his muscles bunching, his fingers fisted as he fought to hold back the urge.
He turned back to the bedroom slowly, his fingers flexing on the side of the door. The hard, wall-vibrating slam of the door a second later sent an unconscious flinch jerking through Tehya’s body as her eyes widened.
It was the first time she had seen his eyes since the attack.
Tehya stared back at him, shocked.
She had seen him in a variety of dangerous situations. She had seen him when his nephew had been wounded, when his father had been hospitalized with a heart attack, and when his youngest nephew had nearly been killed in a car wreck several years before. She had never seen him like this. With the rage burning in his eyes like blue flames, his face was so tight with fury, so sharp with violence that the savagely hewn lines of his face were displayed in sharp detail.
“Get dressed,” he growled, his voice a rumble of violence.
Tehya was moving before he finished speaking.
Jerking open dresser drawers, she had everything she needed within seconds. Less than two minutes later she was sitting on the side of the bed and tying the laces of her sneakers.
Beside her, Jordan was changing, taking more time to dress, taking the time to control the rage she had seen blazing in his eyes.
He wore jeans and a black shirt. His boots were still unlaced as he checked the clip from the Glock.
Snapping the ammunition into place, he sat down and tied the short combat boots he’d pushed his feet into. Rising, he turned to the pack beside the bed table, removed extra clips, and shoved them into his back pocket.
“If you go hunting tonight, then I go with you,” she warned him as she stood, went to the dresser, and pulled a thick ribbon from the makeup bag that had somehow been knocked over and pushed behind the TV sitting there. Knocking it back along the dresser in frustration she stared at her expression, seeing the white, shocked color of her face and the brilliance of her emerald-green eyes.
She looked like death.