Sentinel: Bravo Bear: (A BBW Paranormal Shape Shifter Romance) (The Agency Book 1) (16 page)

***

The man swung, his backhand connecting with her arm and blowing right through it. Maddy tensed, prepared for the blow she knew was coming.

“What the—?”

Nothing landed.

She opened her eyes—

To find that the Agent’s hand had been stopped cold by her arm. Maddy looked at it in amazement. She looked at him in amazement. He looked at her in amazement.

She punched him in the gut with her free arm, as hard as she could.

The man crumpled to the ground with a wail of agony. Maddy hadn’t been ready for him to release her, however, and she fell to the ground next to him.

What the hell just happened?

Even as the thought echoed through her mind, Maddy touched the pavement she was kneeling on. Her fingertips could sense the bounces and ridges in the asphalt. In the distance, the once-faint pounding of the ocean was suddenly right next to her. The night lit up, all the faint sources of light suddenly blossoming into vibrant colors that showed her everything surrounding her.

Then the pain of her earlier fall hit her.

Maddy screamed as the agony shot through her body, once again amplified by all of her new senses. As a human, she had had years to become accustomed to her sensory receptors, to ignore minor things. Now she was being assaulted anew by senses suddenly ten times more acute than anything she had known before.

Her scream was deafening and she clapped her hands over her ears to try and dull the sound. All that served to do was reignite the cuts on her hand as she slapped them against the sides of her skull. She pulled her knees in and began to rock back and forth in a ball, fighting to get everything under control. Through it all, she latched onto one thought.

The serum worked!

A booted foot caught her in the ribs, and she grunted with the pain. It was suddenly lessened as she became accustomed to her new senses, bringing them under her control and not allowing them to run free. Obviously the Agent had recovered from her first hit.

“Punch me, will you?” the Agent said, kicking her again.

Maddy, still on her hands and knees, opened her eyes at the words. She glanced at her hands, wondering if she could punch without dealing with a new wave of pain.

But to her surprise, the scrapes were already almost healed.

Right. Healing powers.

She looked up at the man sharply, a smile spreading across her face, pulling her lips back into a predatory snarl.

The man pulled his foot back and swung it at her head in response.

Maddy’s hand shot out, and she stopped his foot cold, feeling the reverberation as the force of his blow was redirected back up his leg and into her arm. She barely noticed it, but the Agent winced.

“You’re not an Extremis,” she said slowly. “You’re just human.”

The man sneered, despite his predicament. “No,
we’re
human.”

Three more shapes emerged around her. His reinforcements must have finally arrived.

“No matter,” Maddy said with a happy shrug.

Then she bent forward, grabbing the man by the shin with both of her newly enhanced hands.

“What are you doing?” he asked nervously.

“Fitting in,” she snarled, picking him up and swinging him around like a massive club.

The Agent screamed as she bodily slammed him into two of his companions. Something crunched as they went tumbling away in a heap. There were no screams, which was rather foreboding. Maddy didn’t have time to worry about that though, because the other two Agents spread out to either side of her, both brandishing knives. Even with her enhanced sight, the dim light made it hard to see, but she was positive the blades were coated with the same substance that had been on Connor.

She needed to avoid being hit.

In the background, lights came on in the shipyard at last. They illuminated a ship at the far end, but a quick glance at it told her that it was no fishing trawler, but some sort of sleek yacht. More men boiled over the side of it, leaping down to the solid ground.

How many men does the Agency have at its disposal?

Maddy was beginning to suspect it was a lot larger than many thought. Then again, it wasn’t like there was a shortage of people who hated shifters. Their supply was effectively endless, she realized. Not infinite, but more than enough to overwhelm the Underground, that was for sure.

She needed to get out of there, and soon!

First, she needed to deal with the Agents in front of her. They were between her and escape. To her left, one of the downed men moaned and began to gather himself. Maddy was no trained fighter. She might have the advantage in strength and speed, but she didn’t know what to do with it.

Footsteps pounded on asphalt in the distance as more Agents raced toward her. With every passing second they were getting closer. Maddy had no thoughts about taking them all on. She wasn’t trained for that. Connor could, but if she tried, she would probably end up dead, Extremis serum running through her blood or not.

As she backed up, Maddy tripped. Glancing down, she saw the object that had started the whole problem. A big steel bar, at least eight inches across, just strewn haphazardly across the ground. Anger surged in her as she realized that if she hadn’t tripped on that, she would have made it out of the shipyard just fine. The man closed in swiftly as she fell, but as they did, Maddy realized something.

That bar wasn’t so big to someone with enhanced muscles.

With an angry growl, she dropped to her side from her sitting position, making herself parallel with the bar, her right shoulder up against it. The men paused in their attack, as she hoped they would, trying to figure out what she was doing.

Maddy reached across her with her left hand, gripping the far side of the beam. Her right hand grabbed the near side.

“Shit!” one of the men screamed and tried to back away, but it was too late. Maddy pulled hard with her left hand, and the beam rolled up on top of her body until it was suspended in mid-air above her as she lay flat on her back.

Then she left the weight drag her back down, until she was rolling to the right. Mid-roll, she wasn’t facing straight up, nor was she lying on her side. The split angle had her facing the men head-on.

Expressionless, she flung the bar as hard as she could. The big, whirling piece of steel flew out and slammed into both men. Blood flew in the air. One of them screamed as it crushed his arm and shoulder deep into his chest. The other fell silently as the sharp edge sliced into his head, killing him instantly.

Maddy wanted to vomit, but the shouts of other men pushed a different instinct to the front.

Run!

She did, faster than she ever had before, using all of her newfound augmented strength to quicken her pace.

Connor

Neither Andre nor Milos responded.

Outside of the vehicle the Extremis Agents began to close in, taking slow, measured steps that brought them inexorably closer to the vehicle. Connor figured the only reason they didn’t charge was that they were still hoping that the three occupants might fight amongst themselves first, saving them some effort.

“I’m going to get out of the vehicle now,” he said calmly. “I can’t just let them kill us. They have Maddy, and I need to help her. Whatever Flint may have said, she’s an innocent in all this, and he just sent her into a trap. That’s not right, and I think you two know it.”

Trusting his gut, he unlocked his door and slowly pulled the handle, keeping himself hyper-alert in case they decided to attack him anyway. But they didn’t, and he exited the car smoothly, his presence bringing the Extremis Agents to a halt. Oddly, he didn’t see the big brute among them. Could he have possibly killed him with those few blows back in the van? Connor didn’t think so, but perhaps that was why he wasn’t present.

“You can leave now,” he said aloud. “If you do, I won’t come after you. Not today at least.”

The pair in front of him exchanged looks, while he heard the pair behind him laugh out loud at his threat. They had him outnumbered; they knew it wasn’t a fair fight.

“You can’t be serious, silly man,” said the bigger of the two in front in a big, booming voice, thick with an accent. “We are four. You are one.”

Connor smiled. “So get a few more, and it’ll be a fair fight.”

The Agents looked at each other in confusion, thrown off by his casual arrogance.

“You talk like you’re going to win,” one of the men behind him said.

“That’s because I know something you don’t,” he replied.

“Oh?”

He smiled, baring his teeth at them in a wordless challenge. “I know you’re going to lose. People like you will always lose.”

One of them snorted loudly. “Why is that?”

“Because people like me will always be there to stand up to you. If you kill me, someone else will rise up to take my spot.” He growled angrily. “And you had better believe I’m taking at least two of you bastards with me.”

“You will still die,” one of them said with a laugh.

“Yeah, but I’m gonna start by taking you with me,” he replied, staring directly at the man who had spoken.

The Extremis Agent noticeably swallowed, glancing over at his partner.

Connor rolled his eyes. “Are we going to do this, or what?” he snapped, becoming impatient.

The other men tensed, spreading out into a shallow semicircle around his side of the vehicle.

Something
clicked.

Connor looked around, trying to find the sound. His eyes settled finally on the rear door to the truck as it opened. Andre climbed out. He could see Milos doing the same thing on the far side.

“Made a decision, did you?” he asked them warily.

Andre nodded.

“And?” Connor prompted.

“This is my town,” Andre said, his voice angry. “I’m sick and tired of these assholes coming in here and ruining the place.” He turned on his heel and charged at the nearest Agent.

Connor snarled in agreement, moving at the same time. He heard Milos do the same.

The fight was on.

The Agent he faced went for his knife, but Connor was there too quickly. He slammed a palm into the man’s elbow as he reached for the sheath on his waist. The move jarred the Agent’s hand away from the pommel of the knife, and twisted him away from Connor.

The Sentinel training in on him guided his blows. He used the force of his blow to spin him around, delivering a flat-bladed chop of his hand to the side of the Agent’s neck. Something collapsed, but the Agent only staggered, not going down. The move took Connor past him and into line with the next Agent, who
did
have his knife out.

Connor reached behind him, fingers wrapping around the knife of the Agent he had momentarily incapacitated. He yanked, pulling it free just in time to swing it into the path of the attacker’s jab. Metal clanged on metal and he deflected the blow.

Connor darted inside the man’s extended arm, delivering an elbow to the Agent’s nose. Bone cracked and blood immediately began to gush down his face. The man cried out in pain, but he didn’t drop the knife.

Behind him, he heard the first Agent curse, a sign that he was about ready to reenter the fray. Connor chopped down on the Agent’s knife hand, numbing the grip and sending the blade spinning to the ground. He kicked it away, and in the same motion opened a wound from the man’s stomach to sternum. The Agent screamed and fell to the ground.

A weight hit Connor mid-thigh as the first Agent tackled him, sending him to the ground, his own knife skittering across the pavement and under the truck. A fist smacked the back of his head, sending his face down into the pavement. He cried out as skin was ripped from his face and stars blossomed across his vision from the impact.

Another blow into his side broke a rib, sending waves of agony through his entire core. Connor managed to get his hands under him and rolled, but his attacker came with him, snaking his hands under Connor’s chin and locking in his grip. Eyes bulging from the lack of air, he watched with his back to the ground as the Agent with the broken nose stomped over to him, leaving a trail of falling blood across the parking lot that had become their battleground. The wound on his chest bled even more profusely, his shirt and pants soaked. Connor could see his skin already going white. The wound was quite likely a mortal one, as it would not heal. He had seen the green non-healing paste on the knife blade before cutting the man.

Something glittered in the lights at the corner of his rapidly dimming vision as the Agent raised a booted foot, intending to bring it down on his face.

A knife! The first one that had been thrown from the man’s hands. In their rolling fight, they had come right next to it. Connor stopped fighting the grip on his neck, reaching out to snag the knife. He flipped the blade up and drove it firmly through the sole of the Agents boot as he stomped on him.

The Agent howled, spinning around, blood droplets flying from his stomach as he fell to the ground. The move almost ripped the knife from Connor’s hands, but he held on by sheer force.

He was almost out of air now. He needed to do something. He couldn’t pry the man’s entire hand loose—his grip was too good. But he could get a finger. Feeling his throat begin to collapse under the hold, he moved rapidly. His free hand worked one of the man’s pinky fingers free.

Connor’s other hand swooped in, and in one strong strike, he severed the finger completely.

The Agent’s grip immediately loosened as he screamed in agony. A rush of breath shot into Connor’s system and he sat up, inhaling huge mouthfuls of air into his greedy lungs. The inhuman wailing of the man under him reminded him of his predicament.

Connor rolled off the man onto his knees, drew his arm back, and shoved the knife up under the Agent’s ribcage and into his heart. The metal snapped, leaving a useless handle in his fingers, and the blade impaled inside the Agent.

He glanced over at the other man, the one with the stab wound through the foot. The Agent’s convulsions lessened, and he was barely moving now. A large pool of dark liquid had begun to surround him.

Feeling stronger as he continued to breathe deeply, Connor stood up and approached. He only needed one look at the slack-jawed, dull-eyed expression to know the man was dead.

A cry sounded from the other side of the truck, reminding Connor that he wasn’t alone. Rushing around, he quickly took stock of the situation. With his aid, Andre and then Milos’s opponents were quickly dispatched. The other shifters hadn’t escaped harm either. Milos had a broken arm, and Andre was holding a knife wound on his upper leg closed. He was going to need some stitches.

“Take the truck, get back to the club,” he told them. “Tell Flint that I fought you two, but then the Agency got ahold of me. Pretend like I’m in their hands. Stall him for as long as you can!” he shouted as he headed straight for one of the Agency vehicles now idling.

“Where are you going?” Milos called.

“To save Maddy!”

Tires squealed under him as he took off.