Siren's Surrender by Devyn Quinn Page A

Weakened from giving her all, she didn’t look like she had the strength to fight off a determined kitten. “I haven’t got any more,” she breathed, pressing a hand against her forehead. “You’re on your own.”
    Blake cursed under his breath. “Shit.” It was one-on-one now, and he clearly didn’t have the advantage. His palms started to sweat, forcing him to tighten his hold on the tranq gun.
    The last Mer standing snarled, an inhuman predator that wouldn’t be easily subdued. The insult she hurled toward them was an unintelligible jumble to his ears. Though he couldn’t understand her words, he easily picked up their meaning. She reached for the blade sheathed at her hip. The serrated edge looked wickedly sharp. Her gaze never deviated from his.
    Blake had no doubts about her objective. The bitch wasn’t going without a fight.
    Levering a fresh clip into the tranq pistol, Blake couldn’t help smiling. “Sorry, babe . . . You should know better than to bring a knife to a gunfight.” His index finger squeezed the trigger. Once, twice, three times.
    Every single dart halted in midair. The Mer waved them aside as if brushing away pesky flies. They dropped harmlessly to the floor around her feet.
    Blake blinked stupidly. Apparently Gwen wasn’t the only one with a few tricks up her sleeve.
    He cursed and braced himself for the attack. The tranq gun was useless, offering no more defense than a toy cap pistol. Still, it was something in his hand and better than nothing at all.
    Apprehension coursed through him. His pulse throbbed in his ears, a dull roar that muted everything except the danger looming in front of him. His assailant was an Amazon, brawny and well muscled. Years, a whole lot of years, had passed since he’d last fought hand to hand. He’d better damn well remember some moves or he’d get his ass kicked all over the place.
    No doubt there.
    The rogue Mer raised her wicked blade. Her lips drew back into a feral smile.
    Suddenly Tessa snatched a nearby folding chair and swung it with every last ounce of strength she possessed. The flat seat of the chair connected squarely with the back of the Mer’s head. A sickening crack followed the strike, which sounded much like a champion baseball player hitting a home run.
    The Mer stumbled forward, striking the floor in a dead heap. Fingers losing their grip, her weapon clattered harmlessly against the concrete. She lay still and silent.
    Just like that, the attack was over.
    Everyone froze a few minutes, shocked by the sudden lack of frenzied action.
    The silence was deafening.
    Panting hard, Tessa was the first to move. The metal chair slipped from her fingers. A half-choked sob broke from her throat. Crying softly, she stumbled toward her unconscious husband. “Ken,” she wailed, dropping to her knees and taking his face in her hands. Tears slipped down her cheeks. “Kenneth, babe, are you all right?”
    Blake lowered the air gun. “Shit.” He moistened his lips and took a steadying breath. The basement looked like a war zone, blasted and in ruins.
    Addison struggled to her feet. Her clothes were ripped and covered with blood. The woman she’d attacked didn’t move, not even to breathe.
    Nerves going taut, Blake wondered if she was alive. He hoped not. It didn’t bother him one bit if a terrorist died.
    Addison wiped trembling hands across her face. “Is it over?” she asked, voice trembling as hard as her body.
    Blake tossed the tranq pistol aside. “Pretty much.”
    “Everyone still here?” Before she’d even finished the question, Addison’s eyes widened with alarm. “Gwen’s down—”
    Blake’s heart almost stopped in his chest. Gwen’s face was a pale, deathly white.
    He hurried toward her, lifting her into his arms and pulling her close. He brushed his fingertips across her pale forehead, smoothing away strands of damp, clinging hair. Her flesh was ice cold.
    Without opening her eyes, Gwen moaned. Her body trembled with the