At least, he hoped they were.
Assail's voice rose above the gunshots. "Take the goddamn van. I'm not fucking with you. "
Tohr pegged the guy with hard eyes. "If you are, I will skin you alive. "
"I'm not. "
Given that there were no further assurances to be had, Tohr rolled off Wrath and helped the king into a crouching position. Shit. . . blood at the side of his neck. Lot of it. "Keep your head down, my lord, and follow my lead. "
"You don't say. "
Moving as quickly as he dared, Tohr started them across the floor, steering the king over to the wall so that Wrath could put a hand out and orient himself.
"Washing machine," Tohr said, pulling him out to avoid the boxy machine. "Dryer. Door six feet. Four. Two. Step down. "
As they went by Assail, the male was watching them. "Jesus, he really is blind. "
Wrath pulled up short and unsheathed his dagger, pointing it directly into the guy's face. "But my hearing works just fine. "
Assail probably would have recoiled, but he was stuck between the hard wall, a bullet and a sharp point - not a lot of room to maneuver. "Yes. Indeed. "
"This meeting isn't over," Wrath said.
"I don't have anything else. "
"I do. You watch yourself, son - this little go-around proves to have your fingerprints anywhere near it, and your next house is a pine box. "
"It wasn't me. I swear to it - I'm a businessman, pure and simple. I just want to be left alone. "
"Greta fucking Garbo," V bit out as Tohr urged Wrath back into motion.
In the garage proper, Tohr crabbed it across the bald concrete with the king, going around the other vehicles. When they got to the van, he checked the thing out, then popped the back double doors and shoved the most powerful vampire on the planet in there like he was a piece of luggage.
As he reshut the panels, he spared one moment to take a deep breath. Then he ripped around to the driver's side and got in. The interior light stayed on for a bit after he took his seat, and yes, the keys were right where Assail had said. And yeah, there had been some serious modifications to the vehicle: two gas tanks, reinforced steel crash cage, thick glass the girth of which suggested it was indeed bulletproof.
There was a sliding partition that separated the back from the front, and he opened it far enough so he could monitor the king.
With his hearing on overdrive, the dripping of blood in the van seemed as loud as the gunshots that had caused it. "You're hit bad, my lord. "
All that came back at him was that cough.
Fuck.
John was ready to kill.
As he stood to the left of that goddamn back door, the thick muscles of his thighs were twitching, and his heart was going bronco in his chest. His gun, however, was steady as a stone.
The Band of Bastards had initiated the attack from where the Brotherhood had started out: on the far side of the cleared lawn, in the forest behind the house.
Hell of a shot, he thought. That first rifle bullet had punctured the door's windowpane and gone right for Wrath's head, even though there had been a number of people standing around.
Too close. Waaaaay too close.
These guys were true professionals - which meant they had to be gearing up for a second engagement. . . and not from this angle that was guarded so well.
As Qhuinn kept pulling his trigger in a slow, even motion, John leaned back and looked through the archway into the kitchen.
Whistling low, he caught Qhuinn's eye and nodded in that direction.