Wanna Play (Ghost Unit, Book Three) (12 page)

“Worry about your woman, Blaster. I’ll take care of acquiring the evidence,” Gray assured them, already on the radio frequency they were using.

Just as Blaster inserted the key in the ignition, there was a soft grunt from the transmitter. Then a gurgling wheeze. Both men froze. It was the unmistakable sound of a person dying from a knife cut to the jugular. No way of knowing if it was Jas or someone else since no further sounds followed it. Blaster fired up the truck and took off.

Though he wasn’t familiar with the physical roads, Blaster had memorized the route.

She was out there fighting. He had to believe that had been Jas taking out a sentry. No other option was acceptable. Besides, if it were the other way around, the guards would have spoken by now, telling someone about the intruder. It was the worst possible outcome. He’d hoped the damn cabin would be empty, better yet, already destroyed. At least she’d be safe.

The site was live and hot. She was alone, she’d already put in a day’s work and then the shock of the fingers. Her ride on the bike had been fast and rough. Any man would be damn tired after all that and this woman was charging into battle. Probably not charging, more like slithering, but shit! Still going full steam and expecting him to “catch up” when it was over.

They had the receiver hooked up to earbuds. The noise of the road would make it difficult to hear without them. They both had mouthpieces since Gray was hooked into it with them.

Jackson glanced over at Blaster. It was twenty minutes into their drive and a third mark was down. “Two more kills. Your girl is working smart, she might live.”

“She’ll live,” Blaster answered grimly. “Gray, what were her Marine proficiencies?”

Silence for a few minutes after Blaster asked that.

“She’s A-1 across the board but no combat kills.”

“Three tonight,” Blaster corrected quietly.

Never in his life had he felt so damn proud, frustrated and helpless. He wanted to spank her but good, well, not really, but something like that. However, she was fucking amazing as a woman. Every time she touched him, he lit up as if his cock were a roman candle. Wanting her was probably common, he concluded. It was difficult to look at her and not imagine sinking into that fine flesh. Who didn’t want to know what a wildcat ride would be like?

But he liked her as well. Her humor, the sharp edge of her mind. The way she expected nothing of anyone. She wasn’t vain but she was proud and confident. The little he knew of her life told him she’d made a choice to be that way. Taught herself that she deserved better and then went after the life she wanted. Fearless, that was the word he’d use for her. Others would see it as reckless but he recognized it for the thing it was. A choice.

She refused to let fear rule her life. Still guessing, but he’d bet she’d made that choice as early as he had. Making that choice early meant there’d been a string of people who’d let her down. There was nothing Blaster wouldn’t do to stay
off
her list of disappointments.

He’d suspected he was falling as fast as any kid in first lust, but there was nothing sophomoric about where he was now. Warrior woman would be his in this life. Following her into hell to explain that to her busy ass was a pain, but she’d damn well better be expecting him.

Blaster’s foot was buried on the floorboard. The night sped past them as the deceptively dilapidated F-150 rocketed across the hills between southeastern North Carolina and the northern Georgia border.

Chapter Five

Jas wiped the sweat off her brow with the back of her hand as the third sentry gurgled his last breath. She was unconcerned with the dirt and blood she probably left on her forehead. Leaning over, she heaved quietly. There was nothing left in her stomach. This time her physical reaction was separate from her mental one. It was as if she watched her revulsion from a calculating distance. The warrior regarded the woman’s response coldly, as if to say,
Are you done yet? Lets go.

She hoped he was the last man outside. Eyeing the cabin, she breathed deeply to settle herself. There was no past, no future. Right now she was the center of the universe as her senses stretched out around her. Battle awareness. She’d heard of it, had been looking for it and not even realized it was already in attendance as it settled over her. Every receptor was razor-sharp, cataloging even the minutest changes in her environment.

The night was dark and she was grateful for a late-rising moon. Crickets chirped, telling her she was still mostly undetected. She noticed the small animals knew better. A hunter was stalking and they scurried away from the smell of death.

Resting on her heels, she reviewed her options for the benefit of her listeners. Talking in a barely audible flat tone, she outlined what she saw and her conclusions to the men she knew were listening. Going in the front door was the last thing the man inside would expect. She’d considered the back door but suspected it was a trap. It’d be a trap if that were her cabin. Also, was there really only one person in the cabin? The expanse of lawn would make her a target if she’d missed a sentry or a sniper who was hiding in some tree or waiting in a darkened window. No more time to worry about it.

In the truck rocketing through the night still forty miles away, Blaster swore in a vicious stream. He’d heard her gagging on her reaction to her first kills. She didn’t have to do any more, dammit. He’d take care of it, if she’d only wait. But he knew she wouldn’t. If she waited for him to get there, the target inside would realize his men outside were dead and have time to take up a defensive position. She was going in. It was what he’d do.

His lips pulled back in a snarl that he didn’t waste time controlling. A brutal animal peered out the slits of his eyes.

Jas used all the available cover and made the porch without alerting her prey. Cover was good there, provided by a wicker seating arrangement placed on either side of the door under wide windows. Gracious Southern living, it was Georgia.

Silently, she crouched behind the wicker couch and watched through the window as the man inside systematically ran disks across a large magnet. He was doing exactly what she’d expected. Destroying evidence. Burning the disks in the large fireplace across the room was not half as effective as the magnet.

Robert Larkin was absorbed in his task, never looking up or in any way indicating there was someone else in the house with him. Jas watched for several minutes, concentrating on the shadows around the room that she could see. A person could easily hide behind something in there, several persons actually. None of the shadows moved or were wrong in relation to the thing that was casting them. Was it possible Larkin was alone? Up here with just the three barely trained thugs she’d found outside?

Larkin suddenly looked up and nodded to the left. A man strolled into view adjusting his pants. The fourth guard had been in the bathroom. The guy was in no hurry and ambled over to say something to Larkin.

Jas glanced around calmly. She needed something to keep the door from clicking locked when the guard exited. If she had a roll of tape that would have been perfect. She could stand behind the door as it opened and stealthily slide a sliver of tape over the catches from behind with two fingers. Then take the guy out after he made it to the lawn so no noise leaked into the cabin. She didn’t have any tape.

There was a fat decorative candle on the wicker table, matches beside it. That would have to do. Grabbing the candle and matches she used her body for cover as she set it on the floor against the wall, lit the wick as she glanced up in the window. The man was moving away from Larkin to the door. No time!

Larkin barked out something and the guard paused to look back and answer. They exchanged a few more words. It was enough time.

Jas blew out the candle and scooped her finger around the wick, gathering a ball of hot, tacky wax. Then she was flattened behind the door as it opened. Her finger was ready and she jammed wax into the locking prongs as the guard stepped out. It wouldn’t last long. She didn’t have the luxury of allowing the man to move away from the house. It had to be a silent kill before the little bit of wax cracked under the door’s pressure.

The door swung shut and Jas was behind him. Delivering a brutal blow to his temple with her left fist, she stunned him for the kill stab. In smooth motion her left hand covered his mouth while grasping his face, yanking it to the side. Turning his head exposed the target area for easier access. Her hips twisted to add powerful body weight for the lethal upthrust, plunging the knife through his brainstem and into his skull. The blade sliced home then a wrenching half turn to finish the job.

The intimate act of killing a man with a knife requires full body contact. She had to engage counter point and weight momentum to ensure the first thrust was a kill incision. There were no second chances, no comfortable distance a gun allowed. Blood gushed down her arm. Already stained with three kills, the warm flood was nevertheless jarring. It marked her and made her the blade, the instrument of death as surely as if it were her fingers twisting in his brain.

Each kill cost a piece of her soul. She knew the reckoning would come, but not now. Now she had to be the shadowed hand of death. Dealing it out coldly or her life would be forfeit. These men were here for the specific purpose of capturing her. She had no illusion about what would have happened if they had managed that. Repeated rape would have been the least of her worries.

As the thug crumpled, Jas held him to ensure there was no thud as he dropped to the porch. Her body slid down with him to drape over his back. In this, the last move of their ghoulish dance, she controlled his thrashing with her weight. She couldn’t afford the noise he’d make on the boards. Those few seconds as he violently rushed into death were the hardest. The body relaxed and she rolled up to her haunches, keeping low and scanning the night as she wiped her hands and blade on his back then turned to the house.

Sliding in the door, she disappeared behind the first available cover—a large stuffed black bear. This was too easy. There was no alarm or warning given to the men outside. That lack of information told her she’d made the right choice in trusting Blaster. Lord knew she wanted to do a hell of a lot more than trust him. But after tonight, he might not be interested in a woman who could do this.
No time to think about that. She had to remain alert
.

Larkin was still focused on his job.

Only a single lamp burned in the opulent cabin’s interior. Last time she’d been here the interior had been a blur, this time she looked around with an eye for the details. The details told her how wrong she’d been assuming Larkin was the main man. From the outside, the cabin attempted to look innocuous as any other on the hillside. But inside it was furnished in leather and brass with onyx accents, a wealthy man’s play place.

The front of the cabin was one large room with several distinguishable areas. Seating around the fireplace was a combination of high wingbacks and low couches. There was a dining area with a huge oak table and ten chairs. The big kitchen was open-front and she could see it was equally well appointed. Scattered around the large space were the heads of animals or the entire thing. Lion, tiger and elephant heads, an entire grisly and polar bear, various deer and antelope she didn’t recognize. Probably the global list of endangered species could be found here.

The desk in the study alcove where Larkin worked was worth more than Larkin made in a year. It was mahogany with ivory inlays of hunting scenes. There remained no question that Larkin worked for someone. He was still in his Marine uniform as his hands swiftly passed disk after disk over the magnet. Light winked off the brass on his collar and Jas grimaced. It was time to find the real boogie man.

“Don’t move,” she warned softly.

Larkin’s head jerked up to face the silencer on the end of her nine millimeter. He straightened slowly in the big old-fashioned chair to smile at her. “I’ve been expecting you, Jazzy girl. But I did think the boys out front would welcome you first. They’re big fans and have been looking forward to this.”

“Yes, they were
dying
to meet me.”

One eyebrow went up and Larkin glanced at the window.

“It’s just you and me,” Jas grinned, “again.”

“Jumping a few trolls outside doesn’t impress me. They weren’t even military. No challenge. Now be reasonable and hand over the stupid gun. I can help you.”

“I noticed your closest friends are suddenly from south of the border. Looks to me like someone doesn’t trust you, Bobby. Who would that be?” Jas smiled at him. Pulling two pairs of cuffs she’d lifted from the sentries outside from her jacket pocket, she tossed them to him. Larkin caught them out of habit. The reflexes of a physical man who’d maintained his fighting form for over twenty-five years of service.

“Cuff your right wrist to the arm of the chair, your left ankle to the leg,” she instructed in the same conversational tone.

“Really, my dear. There’s no need for this. If you’ve gotten rid of my watchdogs, we can both get out of this. Obviously you’ve finally figured out that I’m not your main concern. Hasn’t it occurred to you that the boys out front were here to keep me in as much as keep you out?” Larkin tried again.

Jas had been moving around the desk steadily as they spoke. She was out of reach but now stood to his side, the desk no longer between her and Robert Larkin. She knew he thought he could now lunge at her and she’d probably only get a wild shot off. She felt it was time to impress him with the error of his thinking. His lame attempts to convince her that he was on her side had been insulting anyway.

The silencer suddenly dipped down and a soft pop went off. Larkin screamed and doubled over to clutch his right foot.

“That was only your little toe, asshole. I’m tired of talking. Now cuff yourself while you’re down there. I want your ankle to the chair leg and your arm coming down under the armrest and cuffed to the back chair leg.
Do it now
.”

“Damn!” Jackson breathed as they listened to Jas handle Larkin. “She’s good. Knew not to warn him. Just went for it.”

Blaster grunted. His grim face appeared pinched.

She was doing everything right. How long could it last? She wasn’t Unit trained. She had a solid Marine background but would that be enough? This was her first real action after all. Raw recruits were usually nut jobs during their first taste of blood and guts. She seemed cold as an old professional and he’d think she was one if he didn’t know about her barf sessions tonight. Damn, damn, damn.

Blaster wasn’t sure who he was praying to, but he pleaded with the gods of war. Just a little longer. She needed to hold on, he’d be there soon.

He had to get there. He was her backup and his ass was still too damn far away. It didn’t matter that she’d forced him to let her get ahead of him. What mattered was she was in the shitstorm and he wasn’t there to make sure she came out of it. There was no time to marvel over her natural huntress instincts. They were serving her well so far. He grasped at the grim faith that she could hang on to them.

“Fucking bitch!” Larkin spat at her, clutching his booted foot. Blood seeped out of the shot-off toe. He made a move to lift his torso.

“Sit up and I’ll shoot you where it counts,” Jas warned. “Cuff yourself.”

Larkin realized she wasn’t playing and picked up the cuffs he’d dropped by his foot and cuffed his leg and then his wrist as directed. He was bent double, his head between his knees, one arm wrenched back so his hand grasped the back leg of the big old-fashioned chair. Cuffed in that awkward position, he had to struggle if he wanted to look at her. It also cut down on his ability to plan an escape on the fly before she got his other wrist and ankle cuffed.

Jas had his other hand as soon as he was done and quickly cuffed it so his hand gripped the top of the armrest on the other side of the chair. Jerking his left foot over, she cuffed that to the opposite leg. He was bent and twisted in an awkward position, in tremendous pain, but that was the point.

“Let’s hear it. Who’s your boss?” she asked tightly.

Larkin managed a wheezing laugh. “What makes you think I’d give him up, little girl?”