Grappling for her weapon, she found herself outweighed and outclassed. Thick Neck wasn’t just big, he was well trained. She was a black belt in Krav Maga, but he obviously had training in more than one discipline. He blocked her attacks with ease, like he was swatting a fly. She raised her gun to fire, he took it away, turning it on her.
“I don’t think so, baby. You and me are gonna party while my friends take out your boy.”
Storm risked a glance at Luke. He fought valiantly, but he was outnumbered. She couldn’t do anything for him. Thick Neck would shoot them both before she went three feet.
She felt another tingle on her neck, but this one was different. Instead of a threat, it felt warm, calm, secure.
“Storm,” a gentle voice whispered in her ear. “It’s Gabrielle. Let me in.”
She opened her mind to Luke’s angel. Like a massive download, her mind was suddenly filled with visions of fighting styles she’d never seen before.
“Relax,” Gabrielle breathed. “I’ll take care of it.”
“What?” Thick Neck had advanced on her, undoing his belt.
Had she spoken? “I’ll take care of it,” she murmured, reaching for his pants.
Too excited to think rationally, Thick Neck groped for her as she undid his fly. Smiling, she let her hands drift down.
“Storm, a little help!” Luke was taking a beating.
Dodging and evading his attackers, he blocked one blow after another, but was starting to slow.
“I’m busy,” she said in a singsong voice.
“Play later,” he replied in the same tone.
“I’ll take care of it, Lukas,” she said with Gabrielle’s voice.
Exhaling seductively, she pulled Thick Neck toward her. Her knee pounded his groin. When he bent over in pain, it was waiting for his forehead. Stunned, he staggered, falling down. A well placed heel to his head insured he wouldn’t rise again. Her first attacker was coming around. A complicated series of blows sent him back to sleep.
In a shiny blue whirlwind, she flew into the bigger of Luke’s two opponents. Knocked off balance, he grabbed for his companion, making them both stumble. Storm kicked him hard in the midsection while Luke pounded the other with his fists.
They stood over their attackers, aware that others were watching. They moved neither to help nor hinder, waiting and evaluating. Breathing hard, Luke and Storm searched for weapons, placing them in a disposal shoot. Storm kept the best of the sidearms.
They proceeded toward the exit on the opposite side of a large, open area. Though Storm could see no one, she knew they were still being watched. The tingle of a telepathic scan warned her again, but this time her wall didn’t come down.
Fear gripped her and she stopped walking, clutching at Luke. Her body shook as she tried to fight the attacker.
“Gabrielle!” She gasped. “Help!”
The same warmth filled her with confidence. Turning, she spotted the telepath in the shadows. He was focused, transmitting, he didn’t notice that something had changed.
Storm’s mind filled with a ball of orange light. She pictured it traveling to her fingers. Her arms and hands prickled with energy. Putting up her hands like dual stop signs, she pushed.
The telepath staggered, gasping for breath. Storm pushed again and he fell, gagging and foaming at the mouth.
“Hurry,” she told Luke like nothing had happened. “We’re not safe here.”
“What? Huh?” He was too surprised to react.
Storm grabbed his arm, yanking him quickly across the room. They hit the doors leading to the corporate area. Security scans activated sending corporate solos flooding into the corridor, surrounding them.
“Storm Westlake,” she called. “Shine Clan. We’re under attack!”
The solos formed a meat wall behind her just as the doors burst open. More solos than she could count, faced the security team. They stopped, raising their hands in defeat.
“Who’s this?” The head of security asked Storm.
“Lukas Houston. He’s with me. He saved my life.”
“Mr. Houston, you’re welcome here as a guest, sir. I’m gonna have to ask for your weapons.”