Michel/Striker by Alexandra Ivy, Laura Wright Page A

snarled, deliberately glancing toward Chelsea. “Unless you want another helpless woman to die today.”
    Chelsea’s heart slammed against her chest, her fear thundering through her.
    Where was Michel? Was he safe? Had he escaped with the other Pantera? God, she hoped so.
    “Wait,” Locke snapped, stepping forward.
    The man tensed, his patience clearly at an end. “Your computer,” he repeated. “I won’t ask again.”
    Locked nodded and Chelsea reached to grasp his arm.
    She wasn’t a hero. But there was no way she could live with herself if she knew she was responsible for the military using her research to create genetically altered mutants.
    “Don’t, Locke,” she pleaded.
    The stranger gave a small wave of his gun. “I will shoot.”
    Chelsea glared at his pudgy face. Shit. She really, really disliked the bastard.
    Locke held up one hand while he shoved the other in the pocket of his suit jacket.
    “Just relax,” he muttered, pulling out a small disk drive. “I have all my research on this.”
    A sickening anticipation smoldered in the man’s pale eyes. “Hand it over,” he commanded, his gun swinging in Locke’s direction. “Slowly.”
    Locke stepped forward, only to halt and glance over his shoulder with a wistful smile. “I really did love you, Chelsea.”
    “Locke?” she breathed, already knowing what he was about to do before he dropped the disk drive on the floor and crushed it with his heel. Then, with grim determination, he charged forward. “No,” she screeched, watching in horror as the stranger squeezed the trigger and pumped three shots into Locke’s chest.
    Her every instinct urged her to rush to Locke’s side as he tumbled to the ground, but she fiercely forced herself to turn away. He’d sacrificed himself so she could escape. She wasn’t going to dishonor him by doing something stupid.
    Even as she turned, however, the door was being smashed open and Michel rushed in with a female Pantera.
    His swift glance took in Chelsea, making sure she wasn’t hurt, before he turned to absorb the sight of Locke lying face-first on the floor and the large man who was now pointing the gun in his direction.
    Astonishingly, the female with short, dark hair gave a low, chilling laugh.
    “This one’s mine,” she growled, leaping across the floor even as Michel was rushing forward.
    Shots rang out, and Chelsea pressed a hand to her mouth, terrified one of the Pantera might be hit.
    But with a blinding speed, both managed to avoid getting hit, and, grabbing the man by the arms, Michel held him captive as the female lifted her hand and slashed her nails across his throat.
    No. Chelsea blinked in shock. Not nails, but claws.
    Four-inch claws that ripped through the man’s beefy neck as if it was butter.
    Blood flowed and chunks of flesh hung from the man’s throat before Michel was tossing him aside like he was a piece of trash.
    A part of Chelsea was horrified. She’d just watched two men die.
    No matter what they’d done, it was an awful thing.
    But a larger part was so relieved that Michel was alive and unhurt that she barely noticed the bodies sprawled on the floor as she launched herself straight into his waiting arms.
    ***
    Michel stood at the edge of the clearing, taking pleasure in the sight of the Pantera who’d gathered to enjoy a collective meal among the wooden tables spread across the sun-drenched glade.
    It didn’t matter that there was a crisp edge to the afternoon breeze, or that there was still danger lurking beyond the edges of the bayou. For this moment they were celebrating the newest members of their pack.
    It’d been three days since their return to the Wildlands from Bossier City. So far they’d managed to get the Pantera they’d discovered settled in new homes. The human female was still in the medical clinic being treated for shock.
    He’d intended to devote his time since their return to mating with Chelsea and disappearing into his home to enjoy a few months