Christine Feehan - Murder Game

Come alone , the voice had whispered hoarsely on the telephone. Hell yeah, he'd come alone. Maybe he should have invited a couple of his teammates to come along for the fun, but sometimes a man just needed to have his own good time. He'd have bragging rights after he killed his blackmailer. Anyone dumb enough to mess with a bull deserved the horns. Inwardly he laughed at his own joke and kept pressing forward, following the call of the cattle.

"Gator's directing the cattle," Nico reported into Kadan's ear. "He's herding Bull your way. I can't always get a clear shot. He's got a lot of cover."

"Tell Gator to keep him moving. I want him in motion at all times so he's easier to spot."

The report on Bull had been astonishing. As a soldier, he had a good reputation, was reputed to be excellent at his job, and had no damaging reports in his file. As crazy as the man was, Kadan had expected to find a few rumors floating, but Bull was either lucky or good, and Kadan had the feeling he was just that good. Flame had uncovered an alarming pattern of deaths on Bull's team. Nearly every mission a man was lost. His team had the highest loss rate of any team in the service, yet no one had questioned that each downed man was a legitimately explained death.

Sturges had been a serial killer long before he'd been enhanced. Flame had covered his high school and college years. There'd been dead students every year, and again, he'd never been so much as suspected, but Kadan was certain the man had been killing for years.

"He's close now, Kadan, and he's aware something's up." Nico said. "I don't have a clear shot."

Kadan hadn't expected less of Bull. The man was highly skilled and a GhostWalker. He couldn't fail to have radar. Sturges was in his sight now, moving slow, a gun in one hand, a knife in the other. He moved with a fluid ease, light on his feet, covering territory but staying in the shadows and keeping the cattle between him and everything else.

Without warning the man sprang, leaping into the air, twisting and Firing several shots in Kadan's direction. Bullets hit around him, but none came too close. His instincts were more than good; Sturges had a sense of survival. He was back on the ground, flattening himself against the pens while the cattle stirred restlessly, running from one side to another, forcing Gator to struggle to keep them contained.

"No shot," Nico reported calmly. "He's fast, he's good, and he knows he's cornered now. He'll be dangerous."

Kadan said nothing, rolling beneath the fence, worming his way through the cattle, using his elbows to propel him, relying on Gator to keep the big steers from stepping on him. The mud and straw stank, drowning out any scent the other man was giving off.

Without warning Bull charged the fence, at the last moment rolling under it, not leaping over, giving Nico nothing to spot. Sturges almost landed on top of Kadan, his knife slashing across Kadan's back, kissing skin and laying out a burning brand that stung like hell. Kadan rolled, coming up to meet the other man, the two bodies slamming together hard, each locking the other's wrists so they knelt, shaking with power and strength, gazes locked as well.

Sturges hissed, recognizing the GhostWalker and for the first time realizing he really could die. He allowed one elbow to bend and rocked back, trying to throw Kadan. The grip on his wrists was relentless. He couldn't move either hand. He lunged forward with a head butt. Kadan shifted as if he'd been waiting for the move. Using Sturges's forward momentum, he flung him forward and up into the air. His head topped the fence and the cattle for just one split second.

Nico squeezed the trigger and Sturges fell, landing hard, his arms and legs flopping loosely while the cattle milled around him and blood pooled in the straw.

Kadan retrieved the knife and gun. "Rye. Send in the cleaners. That's six and we're on the clock."

It took a little bit of time to locate these two, and we got lucky," Ryland said, moving through the vineyard. "Flame hacked into the Reaper's computer and found this little hideaway the two own together. Apparently they've set up a range for target practice. She saw an invoice for some hefty equipment. When I say target practice, I'm talking moving targets, like we use in the urban training."

"So what are they doing?" Gator asked.

"They've built quite a small city built back here. We did a series of aerial photographs and the buildings are mostly shells."

"A stage." Nico glanced at Kadan. "They practice the murders here, so they can perfect each one before they carry it out."

"The details matter," Kadan said. "They're serious about getting the most points possible for each allotted murder. That's like the Reaper. He's a perfectionist and would be very serious about winning if he entered the game." He looked around at his team. "This," he waved his hands toward the compound, "is a perversion of everything we believe in. Our training, every soldier who went through months and years of training to save lives. They've warped the skills given them and the training practices, in order to perfect murder. They disgust me, but don't for one moment think they don't know what they're doing. I know the Reaper. I've worked with him and he's good. Better than good. You can't afford one mistake."

"Do we know what kinds of psychic or genetic enhancements either of them have?" Nico asked.

Ryland shook his head. "There's no documentation. Not in any files Lily could find on Whitney's computer or in any of the ones Flame hacked into on the suspects themselves. There isn't a whisper among the teams, either. We're going in blind."

"Do we have a clue what the winning team gets once the game is over?" Gator asked.

Kadan shrugged. "It's the title, no matter what else. The common bond they all share is ego. They want, no, they have to feel superior. It made no sense to put Tom Delaney in with the group. He didn't fit. He has the aggression, but he isn't a killer, not like these men."

"Lily says they consider the rest of the world sheep and they're the wolves. The more they kill, the more they need to kill," Ryland said. "I didn't understand and probably never really will."

"I don't want to understand," Kadan said. "And this," he swept his hand in an arc to indicate the small estate, "this is an abomination. They're training to murder just as they trained for missions."

There was ice in his voice and he felt the familiar cold settle over him. He welcomed the ice flowing in his veins, the cold part of him that became mechanical, that worked like a well-oiled machine when needed. And he needed the warrior out and fully functional.

"They'll know we're coming," Kadan warned. He would know. He had to assume the Reaper would know. "This is their home turf. They know every trap, every mine. And they'll be waiting for us."

Nico, Jack, and Ken gave a brief salute and split off, heading for their assigned positions. Gator, Kadan, and Ryland continued forward, moving apart and working their way through the vines into the orchards, where there was more cover, but more chance of an ambush.

Kadan inhaled and scented sweat. He went to ground, easing his way along, skin changing to the color of his surroundings. A thin wire stretched across the narrow trail. "Watch yourselves, I've got traps. Push them toward me."

He let his senses flair out, a strange sixth sense that had always been with him, long before he'd been enhanced, a type of radar like a cat's whiskers. The enhancement had amplified it, giving him the ability to "see" images in sound. How close. How far. Large or small.

"One's on you," Jack hissed. "Move."

A bullet rang out, thunked into a tree stump a hundred yards to his right. Kadan was already rolling to his left, into a shallow depression, and scooting forward. The man in the shadows had to be Hawk. The Reaper would never have exposed himself to Jack's sight, not even briefly.