Murder Game (43 page)

Kadan saw her hesitate. Her finger began to slide back and forth in a mesmerizing stroke over the back of the bull. “You killed more than one teammate, slipping up behind them and breaking a neck or shoving your knife into their side. You slit the throat of a commanding officer just a few feet from your team just to see if you could get away with it—and you did, blaming it on an enemy you killed. How did he know? No one saw you. No one ever suspected you, yet he knew. Who knew, cowboy, who knew you were a serial killer before you ever played the game? Of course. The puppet master. He knew and he stroked your ego and manipulated you into playing his game. But why? And why did you leave the military?”

Kadan moved closer to her, sensing she was being drawn farther away from him. He didn’t touch her, but kept his body an inch from hers, watching her hands now, watching the way she stroked the bull.

“An injury. Something bad. Something we can catch you with. You’re on disability. A decorated vet from special teams that rides bulls even though you’re on full disability. What is wrong with you? And how did he know you killed?”

She drew a deep, shuddering breath. Kadan stiffened. She was reaching for that other thread, the subtle one that was potentially more dangerous than any other.

“He knew you would kill. He knows you so well. He got you through, got you the . . .”

I have your favorite teddy bear. The one you kept from that old nurse who rocked you at night when your head hurt so bad it felt like someone was pounding spikes through it. Your energy is embedded deep in poor little teddy.

Kadan reacted instantly to that taunting voice brushing at the walls of her mind. He swept his arms around her, shoving his much larger fingers between her thumb and forefinger, forcing her hand open so the bull dropped free. He jerked her around to face him and settled his mouth over hers, kissing her long and deep, pushing himself into her mind, filling her full, so full of himself that there wasn’t room for anything or anyone else. He allowed images to fill his mind, to push into hers, images of the two of them making love, hot and sweet and fierce, just the way he was kissing her.

He gave the killers and the victims no chance to settle anywhere, sweeping them aside and staking his claim. Her lashes fluttered, and when he lifted her head, the color was back to violet, the opaque veil gone. He kissed her again.

“We did it.” There was a smear of blood by her nose. He removed it with the pad of his finger. “You picked up a lot even through the gloves.” Her body was trembling and she still seemed far away, but he’d brought her out of the trance and pushed the killers from her mind. “Let’s get you into the other room. You’re going to need your headache medicine.”

She shook her head, her fingers tightening on his arm. “No. I have to go after another one. I want the one with the faintest impressions. I have to do it now.”

She was swaying with weariness, and he could already feel the beginnings of the headache beating at her. They hadn’t even debriefed the first game piece or talked about the puppet master. And Kadan sure as hell wasn’t going to let her anywhere near that bastard. “It’s too soon. You’re exhausted and drained.”

“Exactly. He’ll believe I can’t do it again so soon. He won’t be looking for me. This is my chance. He’s so arrogant he thinks he’s way stronger, that I can’t possibly find him before he finds me. He went to my parents’ home, Kadan. He knows who I am and he went to my parents’ home, somehow got in and went through my things. I have a teddy bear I had with me before I was ever adopted. He has it. I’m going to find him now, today. He’ll think I’m done and he won’t be lying in wait to ambush me.”

“I don’t like this, Tansy,” Kadan said, uneasy with the idea. She was exhausted and shaken; he could feel her body trembling against his.

“I can do this, Kadan.” Her eyes met his steadily. “I can. We have a chance to track him right now. It might be our best shot at it.”

He took a deep breath and pushed down his need to protect her, his desire to wrap her up and keep her safe from any harm. She wasn’t a woman who played it safe, and just as he wanted her to accept his nature, he needed to accept that she was far too courageous for her own good—and he loved her that way.

“Damn it,” he said, capitulating. “Which one?”

Tansy leaned against him for strength while she passed her palms above the three remaining game pieces. Energy pulsed off of the scythe and she pulled her hands away quickly. “Move that one for me.”

Kadan picked the carved scythe up with a cloth and set it to one side.

Tansy tried again. The two remaining ivory pieces were side by side, so she could judge their potency. The scorpion hit her fairly hard, sending impressions of rage into her mind. She quickly pulled her hand away and stared at the last one—the hawk. “I think this is my best shot at it, Kadan. The others throw off so much violence I get impressions when I’m inches from them. This one is much more contained.”

“Let’s do it then,” Kadan said. He stroked his hand down her back, the curve of her spine, and over her rounded bottom. He didn’t know if he touched her for himself or for her, but he couldn’t stop the caress. His hands went to her hips, slid up under her shirt, and massaged the ribbon of skin there with the pads of his fingers. “Are you certain, Tansy?”

She nodded. “I’m pretty sure I can get him.”

He bent his head to the nape of her neck, scraping his teeth back and forth. “I know you can, baby. Find him for us.” She would never know what it cost him to say it, but he forced the words with conviction, when deep inside, his belly was back to knots. He couldn’t summon the ice when anything concerned her, not even when he needed it most.

Tansy didn’t hesitate. She cupped her hands around the small ivory hawk. Instantly the energy swarmed over and into her mind. Images poured in along with the thick sludge that she’d long ago come to accept with murder. She kept her palms very close, almost brushing the ivory game piece.

He’d drawn a card and the murder was very precise. He had to follow specific steps in order to get the points his team needed, now that they had a real chance to win, thanks to Stallion’s screwup. No imagination involved in this one, no creativity. The victims were always picked well in advance, but usually they got to at least choose how they wanted to “do” them.

“You’re not happy, are you?” she murmured aloud.

Kadan edged closer to her, skin to skin, wishing they were both naked and he could slide against her, distracting her from being sucked too far down the tunnel where the wailing victims waited and the killer grew stronger.

Tansy tried to push past the killer to find the threat she was looking for, but Hawk was upset. He was a careful man and he didn’t like the way the play was laid out. He wanted to contact the referee, usually forbidden unless the murder had to be forfeited. His team members were upset with him, but they weren’t the ones carrying out the details, and it wasn’t fair. He was good at what he did, and he followed every script down to the last detail—until this one. The instructions were just too precise, and he didn’t like it. The ref was probably trying to get Team One back into the game after Stallion screwed up so badly.

The Reaper was especially angry, getting in his face. He wanted to win this round, and when the Reaper insisted they do something his way, the others always went along. Well not this time. This was his game and the play had to be fair.

Kadan stiffened. He knew that name. He’d come across the Reaper a few years back running a mission in Afghanistan. Big man. Competent. Cold eyes and hands like Nico when he held a gun. He started to tell Tansy, but he didn’t want to break her concentration. He could track the Reaper. Marine. A lot of combat experience. What the hell was he doing running with a bunch of murderers? Over the years, they’d fought a few battles together, and the man knew his job. Kadan had respected him.

Had he been enhanced? Kadan didn’t think so, not at the time. That had to have come later. The man hadn’t been a stone-cold killer, not then. So did that mean enhancement could push someone a little twisted over the edge? Jack and Ken Norton had often speculated about that, along with some of the other GhostWalkers. Maybe it wasn’t the same man at all. Kadan hoped not; he’d been a good soldier.

Tansy pressed closer to the hawk figurine, allowing her gloved hand to brush the individual feathers. He refused to let the Reaper intimidate him; he used the Internet, finding the guest book the ref had given them to put a message on. The guest book was a best-selling author’s, and only an automatic reply would get back to him. He would check the next day for the ref’s reply. When it came, Hawk was unhappy. There could be no deviations. Follow instructions exactly or lose all points.

“I’ve got you,” Tansy breathed the words aloud, fighting down excitement. She had to stay calm and not allow any vibrations on that anchor thread that ran to the puppet master. She began a slow, inch-by-inch crawl along the tunnel, desperately trying to ignore the shocked gasps of the victims as Hawk entered the house through a second-story window and, following the dictates of the card he’d drawn, went into the young boy’s bedroom first and made short work of him. The two girls were next.

Tansy closed her eyes, her breath ragged as she tried to slip past without looking in, but it was impossible. One child was around eight, the other no more than five. At least he was merciful, not drawing it out. They were dead before they were aware of the intruder. Hawk crept down the stairs, glancing at his watch, careful of the time. The adults were in the first bedroom. He killed the man instantly, before he woke the woman.

Fear burst over Tansy in waves. He taped her mouth and hands and proceeded to stab the dead male repeatedly while she watched, sobbing and pleading, terrified of him. He didn’t speak, but grabbed her and dragged her back upstairs, first throwing her on the bed with the little girls, allowing their blood to coat her gown. Tansy could feel his distaste for the task, but he dragged her to the little boy’s room and shoved her onto that bed. She was moaning now, in shock, trying to reach her child.

Hawk hesitated, caught the woman by the hair, his distaste for his task growing, but determination won out. He’d gone this far, done everything he was supposed to do for his team.
Your fault, lying, cheating whore. Look what you’ve done.
He waited until the horror of the repercussions of her infidelity registered, and he took a snapshot of her face, then he shot her between her legs, in both breasts, and finally in her wide-open mouth.
You shouldn’t cheat on your husband, bitch, not when he’s serving his country.

Bile rose, but Tansy fought it down. She was too close to lose now. This had been a hit, pure and simple. She was certain of it. She’d seen hits before, knew what they felt like. Hawk maybe wanted to win a game, but somewhere, someone had wanted this victim, this woman, to suffer for her infidelity. This killing wasn’t random. Someone had chosen her. “The dead man is not her husband,” she murmured aloud, just in case Kadan wasn’t following the information she was trying to share with him. “Check, but I know he wasn’t her husband. She was having an affair and the husband wanted her punished.”

She was looking beyond the murder, focusing on that thread that gleamed like silver, fat and shiny and much thicker than normal. The puppet master had to be in contact with his killers whether he wanted to be or not. He was the “ref.” The man running the game. And he was running it for profit.
Contract killings.
He had his own team of hit men, and he played them all like fools. He was military, had been in some way part of the testing. Neat freak. Worked for Whitney. She was close to him now.

Clever, clever girl. I don’t usually indulge whims, but you have to learn that bad girls get punished. Mommy and Daddy are going to get a little visit from my friends.
The voice was chilling.

Kadan reacted instantly, her safety net, her guardian, standing between her and the man in the shadows. He caught both wrists and yanked her hands outward and away from the hawk, leaving it sitting on the table, a terrible reminder of the killing of an entire family.

“For revenge,” she whispered and buried her face in his shoulder.

She was too weak to stand, and as she collapsed he caught her behind her knees, lifting her against his chest. She leaned over and was sick, staining the floor red. Kadan took her through to the bedroom almost at a run. Her skin was clammy, her face nearly gray.

“Tell me what she needs,” Nico said, coming up behind him.

“I’m afraid to let her sleep. I think the puppet master is a dreamwalker.”

“I have some powder,” Nico said. “An old Lakota remedy. It will keep her in a deep sleep and stop any dreams, good or bad. It’s been in my family for hundreds of years.”

Kadan placed Tansy on the bed and fished quickly for the pills that would help to ease the pain already beating at her skull. She turned away from him, coughing, and there was blood on the pillow.

Nico pushed past him and laid his hands on Tansy’s body. “Pull out my crystals; they’re in my jacket in the hall closet. Let’s make her more comfortable and put her to sleep. No wonder you don’t want her doing this. This is tearing her up.”

“She got important information,” Kadan said, coming back into the room with the crystals, “but the puppet master is definitely tracking her. I have to find a way to guard her dreams.”

“Give me some time to heal her with the crystals, and I’ve got enough powder for a few days. That should give Flame and Lily time to give a direction and we’ll eliminate the threat.”

Kadan sank down onto the bed beside Tansy, where he could watch over her and help Nico at the same time.

CHAPTER 18

Tansy woke in Kadan’s arms. He was wrapped around her so tight she wasn’t certain where she left off and he started. He was literally sprawled over her. One thigh lay wedged between her two bent legs, and his arm was around her waist, his hand over her breast. She noticed that even in his sleep he seemed to protect the injured side of her, careful nothing brushed against the laceration. Even the sheet was tented with pillows. He’d thought of everything to make her comfortable.