Perhaps not quite as certain as the other. That one was weak. He would make a mistake.
As Tarek started down the stairs, he laid the extra weapon on a step, close enough to jump and retrieve if he needed it. If he went in armed, they would know he had been aware of them, and they would search him, using Lyra to keep him in place while they took the hidden weapon.
"Lyra, you left the lights out," he called out as he stepped into the foyer. "No more of your games now. Where are you?" He kept his voice teasing, taunting as he moved to the kitchen where her scent was strongest. He stopped at the entrance, placing his hands on his hips as he surveyed the scene.
Everything inside him clenched with fear as he fought to present a casual attitude. He could feel the growl growing in his chest, his jaw clenching with the need to taste blood. The two men stood on each side of her, one with his weapon lying threateningly against her temple. She didn't make a sound, but he could see the tears shimmering on her face, her lips moving.
I'm so sorry…
"Well, I admit, Tarek, I hadn't thought it really possible." Anton Creighton shook his head as he made a clucking sound.
"And to find you so careless. Your Trainers were sloppier than I had thought them to be during your stay at the labs." Cold, steel-gray eyes stared out of a pale face. A black cap covered his blond hair, but Tarek remembered the color well. His broad, heavily muscled body appeared relaxed, but Tarek could see the tension in it. The other man wasn't nearly as confident as he appeared to be.
And his partner was terrified.
"The stink of your man is starting to bleed through whatever you used to cover him," he informed Creighton coolly. "He's scared."
Creighton's eyes narrowed as Tarek refused to rise to his prodding. His gaze flickered to the other man.
"Good help is so hard to come by." He smiled coldly. "But he did well enough to keep you from detecting us until the time was right."
Tarek nodded with all signs of absent attention as he glanced at Lyra.
"So what do you boys want tonight?" he asked, keeping his voice measured, nonthreatening.
He knew Creighton better than the other man thought he did. He was easy to play with, maneuverable to a small degree, and living on a prayer as he fought to escape both Breeds and Council soldiers.
Creighton was basically a coward. When the labs were attacked by government and independent forces to rescue the Breeds held there, he had deserted the fight rather than risking capture. He was considered a criminal to both sides now.
"Just the girl." Creighton shrugged dismissively. "As soon as I dispose of you, I can use her for a little trade. You should have stayed off my ass, Tarek. But because you're so persistent, I'll take care of you now and ensure my return to the Council ranks with your pretty little mate."
"The Council is disbanded, Creighton." Tarek watched him pityingly. "There's no one to trade with." A rich chuckle filled the air.
"You really believe that, Tarek?" he asked, shaking his head.
"No need to worry, Lion-boy. They're still there. Tucked away nice and safe, but there all the same."
"Shut up, Creighton," his partner hissed. "Kill him and be done with it."
Lyra flinched, her gaze turning wild at the demand. Damn. She was the wild card, not these two bastards. And there wasn't a damn thing he could do but pray her common sense won out.
"Your boy is a little impatient, Creighton." Tarek mocked as he leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched them. "A little bossy, too, isn't he?" Creighton's ego was legendary.
"Shut up, Tim," he snapped. "I have him under control."
"You sure he's not a Coyote?" Tarek nodded to good old Tim, with his washed-out hazel eyes filled with fear and lanky dark brown hair. "He shakes like one."
Creighton's chuckle was mocking, grating on Tarek's nerves as the barrel of his gun slid against Lyra's temple in a cold caress.
"He'll do," Creighton assured him as he stared back coldly.
"Unfortunately, there's no bounty on your head. But I guess I'm going to have to kill you anyway. If you had just let me be, boy, I would have done the same." He shook his head in mock regret.
"Some Breeds never learn though."
Just a little more. Just a few more seconds.
He could smell Braden and another Breed at the back door. But he could also smell the overwhelming scent of fury at the front door. Human fury. A father's fury.
Shit.
"This was really a bad time to come calling, Creighton." Tarek shook his head, almost feeling sorry for the other man now. "It's bread night, you know."
He glanced at Lyra, praying she would get the message. She blinked, amazement and a surge of renewed fear glittering in her eyes.
"Bread night?" Creighton stared at him in confusion. "What does bread have to do with anything? Has freedom rotted your brain?"
"Sadly, for you, I believe it may have."
The back door splintered as the house alarm began blaring. Lyra, bless her sweet heart, was no one's fool. Before Creighton could stop her, she threw herself to the floor, rolling beneath the table as her feet kicked out at Tim's knees as Tarek dropped, whipped the gun from his back, and fired back at the Trainer. The front door exploded as Creighton went down and Tarek threw himself beneath the kitchen table, his body covering Lyra's as he left the other man for Braden and whoever the hell was screaming bloody-assed murder to take care of.
"I told you it wasn't going to work. You can't play with men who know you so well, Lyra," he growled, reminding her of his warning as she spoke to her father earlier. He pulled her deeper beneath the table, forcing her behind him, sheltering her between his body and the wall as she struggled to push him away.
Braden and Jonas were on the floor, weapons raised ready, as three well-trained Navy SEALs burst into the room, weapons drawn, murder glowing in their eyes.
"Dammit, Tarek, let me go before they destroy the house," Lyra yelled at his ear. "They'll tear it apart."
"Better the house than me," he grunted, holding her in place as the black-clad figures halted at the table, followed by a set of legs clad in jeans.
The father.
Hell.
"Look, I like this house better than mine." She smacked his shoulder before putting her knees into his back and pushing.