Her Rogue Alpha (X-Ops Book 5)

by Paige Tyler

  She didn’t understand how he’d done it, but the DCO agent had somehow escaped capture and put together a small team of men to rescue the girls. Maybe he wasn’t so worthless after all.

  Suddenly, the skin along the back of her neck burned as if it were on fire. Layla had never felt anything like it before, but she’d heard Ivy describe it often enough to know it was her feline intuition warning her that something was wrong.

  “Watch out!” she shouted just as Powell lifted a small submachine gun and started shooting.

  * * *

  Jayson didn’t know why Layla was warning him, but he trusted her instincts and dived for cover behind the big-ass sectional couch that dominated the middle of the room. He hadn’t even hit the floor before bullets smashed into the sofa, sending shards of stone, chunks of wood, and cushion fluff everywhere. He gave a silent prayer of thanks that the base of the couch was so rugged. If it hadn’t been for that, he’d have been dead. He’d always known Powell was a complete piece of shit, but fighting alongside Zolnerov’s men against his fellow DCO agent was sinking to a whole new level of crap.

  Jayson looked over his shoulder to make sure Layla and the girls had taken cover only to find her and Anya crouching behind the arches in the corridor trying to take out Powell and the men with him. Shit, they were only going to get themselves killed.

  “Take the girls and go!” he shouted at Layla. “Get them outside and over the wall.”

  Layla shook her head, clearly hating the idea even as she had to jerk back when the stone edging near her face shattered into pieces from a bullet.

  “Go!” he shouted again. “You two can’t hold that position and you’re just going to get yourselves and everyone else killed. I’ll be right behind you, I promise.”

  Layla shouted at Anya to go, then gave him a hard look. “Don’t you dare do anything stupid!”

  Getting to her feet, she spun to follow the girls, herding them down the curving hallway.

  Boots echoed hard and fast on the marble floor in front of the couch. Jayson jerked into a crouch and peeked over the top. One of the militia soldiers charged straight at him. The asshole must have thought Jayson would be so focused on Layla and the girls that he wouldn’t notice anyone coming his way. But he had noticed, and he didn’t hesitate to lay his AK across the back of the sofa and fire off a quick three-round burst. The man crumpled to the floor, his momentum taking him across the marble and slamming him into the base of the couch.

  Jayson had barely ducked again when the sofa around him exploded in fluff and pieces of stone. Shards of marble peppered his left shoulder, making it feel like he’d been hit with a shotgun blast.

  Shit. The man charging at him had been nothing more than bait to get him to poke his head out like a frigging turtle sticking its head out of its shell. No doubt Powell had ordered the charge. Jayson wondered if the militia soldier had known Powell was casually throwing his life away.

  “Hey, Jayson.” Powell’s amused voice carried across the room as soon as the shooting stopped. “Pop your head up again. I promise I’ll make it fast.”

  Jayson dropped the half-empty magazine out of his AK and loaded a fresh one. Then he yanked a handful of loose rounds from his pocket, dropped them on the floor, and shoved them in the magazine he’d just extracted. He wasn’t stupid. Powell wasn’t talking to him because he missed him. He was babbling to cover up the movement of the other two soldiers who were almost certainly moving around the room right then to get a bead on Jayson. He needed to be ready when they made their move.

  “Is that how it’s going to be then?” Powell asked with a chuckle that made Jayson want to kick him in the balls. “What, are you mad at me just because I tried to shoot you on that rooftop? It was nothing personal. I was just following orders. I’d expect a former soldier like yourself to understand that.”

  Jayson heard careful footsteps off to his right. One of the soldiers was moving toward the fireplace, trying to outflank him.

  “You are so full of shit, Powell,” he called. “You didn’t try to kill me because of any DCO directive. You did it because you’re a piece of shit who gets off on killing. You figured you were about to die and you wanted to make sure I went first.”

  Powell laughed again, the sound closer and slightly off to the left. The jackass was getting ready to make his move. Good. Jayson wanted to finish him and get out of there. He didn’t like the idea of Layla being out there by herself. Anya had shown herself capable of firing a weapon, but that wasn’t the same thing as having actual backup. That was Jayson’s job.

  “You might be right,” Powell agreed. “I have to admit, I never did like working with you shifter freaks. I doubt you ever heard of him, but Jeff Peters was a good friend of mine, and that psycho bitch Ivy Halliwell got him fired from the DCO, then killed him. I’ve been looking for a chance to off a shifter ever since. Even if you’re not much of one, you were the only shifter I had available at the time, so I figured you were better than nothing.”

  Jayson heard the guy by the fireplace edging a little closer while Powell moved into position on the left. The third militia soldier was still holding firm in the western corridor, probably with his weapon sighted on the couch in case Jayson popped his head up suddenly. Within seconds, Powell was going to have everyone in position and this little show was going to get started.

  “I figured it was something like that,” Jayson said. He didn’t really care about the conversation, but he wanted to keep Powell talking. “I’m just shocked you made it off that roof in one piece. I thought the militia would have killed you for sure.”

  Jayson wiggled across the floor to the right. When everybody started shooting, he didn’t want to be in the same place he’d been the last time they’d seen him.

  “I almost didn’t,” Powell answered. “The militia could have killed me, but one of them recognized me as American and figured their colonel would want to see me. Zolnerov was about to execute me when I mentioned there was another American here with a diplomat’s son from the U.S. embassy in Kiev. That got his attention damn quick. Then I told him about shifters and that really floated his boat. The idea of getting a feline shifter of his very own had him salivating. Telling him I could deliver the two of you on a silver platter made me his favorite person in the world.”

  Jayson’s head was spinning. Powell had told Zolnerov about shifters—about Layla. And unless Powell was full of shit, this entire rescue mission was a setup for Zolnerov to grab a shifter of his very own—a very special female shifter.

  Anger welled up in his chest. It was bad enough that Powell had tried to kill him, but now he’d betrayed Layla, too, setting her up so a sadistic piece of shit like Zolnerov could grab her. Jayson decided that shooting Powell was too good for the man. He would snap his frigging neck with his bare hands.

  Jayson slipped his finger in the trigger guard of his AK, twisting around to head for Powell to kill him first. Then he heard the crunch of boots on marble fragments from behind him. Shit. Powell had been fucking with him all along, using his feelings for Layla to get him to do something stupid. And it had worked. Jayson had turned his back on the closest threat and was about to pay the ultimate price for it.

  * * *

  Layla herded the girls down the central corridor in the same direction they had just come from. “Find the first exit out of the building. It should be up on the right somewhere.”

  Leaving Jayson behind to face Powell on his own had been the hardest thing she’d ever had to do, but he’d been right. If she and Anya had stayed where they were, it would have only been a matter of time before one or both of them had been hit, and she had to get Anya and the other girls out of here. Once they were over the wall and safe, she would text Mikhail and let him know what was going on. Then she’d be able to get back in there and help Jayson.

  She just prayed he’d be able to hold on that long against what se
emed like overwhelming odds.

  Up ahead, Anya quickly found an exit along the east wing corridor and urged all the girls outside. Layla caught up with them and hurried the group toward the pool area. They’d just gotten there when the concrete in front of them was chewed up with the impact of bullets. The girls screamed and scattered toward the only cover available—the raised flower beds positioned around the near side of the pool.

  Layla cursed as she crouched beside Anya. Zolnerov and a handful of his soldiers were heading their way at a fast pace. The men had gotten between them and the south wall like they’d known Layla would be bringing the girls that way.

  Zolnerov wasn’t trying to kill them, though. He and his men repeatedly put round after round into the concrete in front of them, driving her and the girls closer to the pool. Layla’s heart sank as she realized that he intended to recapture them. Of course he did. He needed the girls to pay off Kojot. With only two weapons, a limited supply of ammo, and nowhere to escape to, Layla had no doubt the colonel could do it. Even as she watched, some of the girls were forced into the pool as Zolnerov’s men circled around her side of the pool and closed in. It wouldn’t be long before the stone flower bed didn’t provide any cover at all. When that happened, Layla would be forced to surrender.

  That didn’t mean she and Anya were going to give up. Maybe the men out there were hesitant to shoot at the girls for fear of injuring their valuable merchandise, but the reverse certainly didn’t apply. Layla took aim with her 9mm and emptied her clip into the handful of soldiers coming at them. Beside her, Anya did the same with her assault rifle. The girl might not be able to shoot very well, but she could sure as hell make the soldiers duck and back up.

  Even though Layla hit at least two of Zolnerov’s men, there were too many left to simply run from. Layla loaded her last clip into her pistol and turned to Anya. The Ukrainian girl shook her head. She was almost out of ammo, too.

  Layla glanced back at the girls. She couldn’t let Zolnerov get his hands on them again. She had to give them time to get away.

  “Anya!” she shouted. “I’m going to distract them. Get the other girls to the wall.”

  The Russian girl looked at her like she was insane. Maybe she was. But she couldn’t think of anything else to do except charge at the colonel and his men, focusing their attention on her and praying her speed would make her difficult to hit. It was probably a suicidal plan, but it was the best she could come up with.

  Layla was just about to dash forward when a hail of gunfire came from behind her. She was sure it was Jayson, Danica, and Clayne coming to their rescue, but when she turned, she saw Dylan, Olek, and Mikhail running toward them while laying down a steady barrage of bullets from the three Makarovs they’d just learned to shoot.

  Layla couldn’t believe what she was seeing, but she wasn’t going to waste their amazing display of courage. She stepped out into the open and popped shots off at Zolnerov and his soldiers. Anya did the same, and suddenly, the tide began to turn. She had no idea if any of Zolnerov’s men were actually hit by all the bullets flying through the air, but it sure as hell freaked them out. Within seconds, the majority of them turned and ran.

  Without being told, the girls abandoned the protection of the pool and the flower beds and ran back toward the main house.

  “Go after them!” Layla shouted at Dylan and the other boys, gesturing to the girls. “Get them moving toward the east side. Find Clayne and Danica if you can. Just get them out of here.”

  Dylan nodded, motioning Anya and the other girls toward him before turning to lead them to safety. Dylan wasn’t the only one taking charge. Olek and Mikhail were helping girls out of the pool and urging them in the right direction.

  The move must have pissed off Zolnerov because he began shooting straight at the girls, and this time, he was aiming to kill.

  One dark-haired girl, who’d been late getting out of the pool because she’d been helping the others, got caught up in a hail of bullets and froze where she was. Layla turned to race toward her, but Mikhail was already sprinting across the open area. Suddenly, the Russian teen’s leg twisted as bullets tore through his right thigh. Mikhail ignored the injury and lunged at the frightened girl. They both went down as another torrent of rounds annihilated the ground where she’d been standing.

  A moment later, Mikhail was sitting up and aiming his Makarov at the nearest soldier, calmly putting a bullet through the man.

  By the time Layla got to the two teens, the girl was trying to get Mikhail up on his feet so they could head for cover.

  Layla grabbed the big Russian kid by one shoulder and dragged him to his feet, helping him over to the nearest flower bed. She didn’t want to get trapped there again, but it wasn’t like she had a lot of choices. There was no way she was going to get Mikhail out of there, not while they were getting shot at.

  The dark-haired girl slipped herself under Mikhail’s other shoulder and helped Ivy hurriedly move him toward the cover of the stonework, talking to Mikhail in Russian the whole time. Through clenched teeth, Mikhail said something back to the girl in their language, but she ignored him. Knowing Mikhail, it was likely something about wanting the girl to save herself and leave him. What a typical male.

  Between the two of them, they got Mikhail to safety. Turning, Layla started shooting at Zolnerov and the two men with him again. Despite being injured and in obvious pain, Mikhail fired in their general direction, too. Another militia soldier went down just as the upper slide of her weapon locked back to the rear. Crap. She was out of ammo. She opened her mouth to tell Mikhail to conserve his, but it was too late for that. He was out, too.

  Stomach clenching, Layla turned to regard Zolnerov and the last remaining soldier who now stood with him. The Russian colonel was standing fifteen feet away, a large pistol held casually in his hand as he stared back at Layla. In person, he was even more menacing. He and the soldier had moved around the pool area until they had a clear shot at her, Mikhail, and the dark-haired girl who was currently trying to keep the Russian teen from getting up. As crazy as it sounded, the fact that Zolnerov wasn’t shooting them worried her. What was he up to? Whatever it was, she didn’t think she was going to like it.

  “You are not the beast I expected when your American friend told me about you,” Zolnerov said.

  Layla flinched. He knew she was a shifter.

  “I will very much enjoy putting you in a cage and showing you off,” he added, a sinister smile crossing his face. “Your friend said I would likely need to torture you to get the monster inside you to come out, but after what you have done tonight, you have made me very angry, so I think torturing you will be extremely easy.”

  She bit back a growl, furious that Powell had betrayed her and Jayson so completely. There was nothing she could do about it now, though. She and Mikhail might be out of ammo, but she still had to figure out how to get them out of this situation. Not only because of what Zolnerov had in store for her, but also because of what he would almost certainly do to Mikhail and the dark-haired girl.

  “You two are about to see some things that you won’t understand,” she said to Mikhail and the girl in a soft whisper. “When I distract them, run. It will be your only chance.”

  Mikhail and the girl both shook their heads frantically, but she ignored them as she moved to the side, putting as much distance between her and the teens as she could. Every little bit would give them more time to get away.

  Layla set down her empty pistol. If she was going to get out of this, she’d need to use her God-given weapons now. She’d done some hand-to-hand combat training with Landon and Ivy, but it had been mostly defensive stuff, like how to break out of a choke hold or separate from an attacker. Using her claws and fangs in a fight wasn’t something Ivy had taught her yet, probably thinking that the idea of tearing into another person wasn’t something Layla was ready for.

  Ivy was right
. Layla had never imagined having to do something like that to another person, but at the moment, she was out of options. She had to protect herself, give Mikhail and the girl a chance to escape, and most importantly, get back to Jayson.

  Zolnerov and the soldier immediately moved toward her. Layla’s body shifted instinctively, her claws and fangs extending. The night exploded with dozens of sensations as her inner feline came out.

  Layla heard Mikhail and the girl gasp. The soldier with Zolnerov, on the other hand, looked terrified. She couldn’t blame him. She must have made one hell of a sight standing there with her eyes aglow like a cat.

  The soldier mumbled something in Russian, then turned and ran in the other direction.

  Zolnerov lifted his weapon and shot the man in the back as casually as another person might turn off a light. The soldier fell to the ground, then lay there moaning for a few seconds before finally going still.

  The colonel smiled at Layla. While he didn’t have fangs, there was still plenty of menace there. “It’s better this way, don’t you think? Just the two of us?”

  He lifted his weapon again, this time aiming it directly at her.

  “Your American friend said your kind can survive a lot of damage and heal quickly. I hope he did not lie to me. I would hate to permanently mar such a pretty trophy.”

  Chapter 15

  If Jayson didn’t move ASAP, he was dead—either at the hands of the guy over by the fireplace or Powell. Unfortunately, he didn’t have many options. Taking a deep breath, he jumped up and vaulted over the couch, doubting either man would expect that. He was right. The hail of bullets that were meant to kill him missed completely.

  He hit the marble floor on the other side of the couch in a roll, the twinge of pain in his back a welcome reminder that he wasn’t dead yet. He came up in a crouch, then drilled a long burst of 5.54mm ball rounds through the soldier standing in the western corridor. A clatter of gunfire from his right, along with an explosion of marble fragments, told him that the guy who’d been sneaking up from that side was still there and quickly correcting his aim.