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Chase nodded.
“You take the back this time.” Chase started to the back. “Careful,” Burnett whispered.
“It’s my middle name.”
* * *
Della parked in the driveway. Had she gotten here in time? Jumping out of the car, she got a scent of blood. She looked over her shoulder, almost certain the smell came from across the street. But it scared her nevertheless.
She rushed inside. “Mom?” she screamed.
The sound of a door slamming filled the oddly disturbing silence. She moved toward the kitchen, thinking she might find her mom there. But she never got past the entryway.
“Oh, goodie,” a male voice said, coming from the dining room.
Della took a noseful of air to see what she was up against. But her mom must have cooked spaghetti because all she smelled was the nauseating odor of garlic. She swung around. A quick check of the intruder’s forehead showed he was half were.
She could take him.
Still, heart pounding, fear triggering her inner vamp to come out to serve and protect, she tilted her head to the right, hoping to decipher if anyone else was here.
The sound of heavy breathing came from the den toward the back of the house.
“We have the whole family here now,” the were called out.
In one hand he held a baseball bat; in the other, he held a framed photo—a family portrait of them posing in the park taken right before Della had turned.
Fury rose in her chest. She loved that picture. “Put that down!”
“What? This?” He held up the frame. “Or this?” He held up the bat.
“Actually, both,” she seethed.
He took a swing. Della caught the bat and spotted a touch of fear in his eyes. For good reason. But oddly, he didn’t think to check her pattern. His mistake.
Hit again by the smell of blood, she instantly became aware of the thick slickness on the bat. Her heart gripped.
Who had the dirty rogue already hit?
Chapter Forty-eight
Chase moved along the side of the house, ducking down below windows, to get to the back. Misty rain thickened the air. The music played so loud, he could feel the ground below his feet vibrate. He hoped he could hear when Burnett pounded on the front door.
Inhaling, Chase caught were scents, weak ones, like half breeds—five, or maybe six. But no vampire trace reached his nose. He only hoped that Stone was somewhere upstairs and his scent simply didn’t reach.
He heard voices behind the music. The loud bass prevented him from deciphering what they said, but he knew one of them was female. Was she part of the gang?
Chase emotionally flinched. He hated fighting girls.
He continued to the back and jumped over the gate to the yard, making his way to the back patio. In the distance, he heard more thunder. A storm brewed. He looked up and saw the dark clouds rolling in. The smell of real rain scented the air.
Right when he spotted the back door, he heard the hammering of Burnett’s knock. He ducked behind a rosebush and held out his tranquilizer gun.
Footsteps came rushing toward him.
“That’s right,” he muttered quietly. “Come on out.”
The door swung open. Three figures appeared. Two guys. One woman. One guy held a pistol. Chase hit him with a tranquilizer first.
