Wanna Play (Ghost Unit, Book Three) (13 page)

Larkin screamed again. There was loud moaning and harsh breathing for a few minutes.

“There are four more fingers on this hand. Who is your boss?” Jas repeated as she placed his pinky finger on the floor under his face.

Larkin managed to lift his head and look her in the eye. His face was pale, sweat and tears dripped down to his square chin. He had been a reasonably good-looking man. His features were unremarkable but solid. His nose had been broken sometime in the past and never set completely straight. He looked the career Marine in every way. Now though, he looked different. There was a twisted quality to his face that matched the painful contortions his body was bound in.

“He’s already fucked you, bitch. Don’t think your new boyfriend can Ghost your ass out of here.” Larkin laughed, it gargled and turned into a choked cough, but he continued. “You were never free, just too stupid to realize who owned you. He’s done playing with you, idiot. Bastard is done with all of us.”

Jas stared into manic eyes and brought the knife down again. She’d been holding it poised over the next finger on his left hand. The ghost babble was interesting. It hinted at something fascinating. He’d also told her why it’d been too easy getting in here. Whoever was in charge had lured them both here. Getting out was going to be the trick.

In the truck, Blaster sucked in a deep breath. Jackson started cursing soft and low.

“Shut up, Jackson,” Gray hissed into the earpiece.

“Stop the truck! The cabin’s a trap!” Gray barked in quick succession.

“She doesn’t know,” Blaster responded as he brought the truck to a skidding halt. “Jackson, you have two seconds to get out. This is where she turned off with the bike. We can’t leave it. Straight north about a mile.”

“Shut up, she’s talking.” Gray hushed them.

Jackson hopped out of the truck and took off at a run. He’d reach the bike in about five minutes depending on how thick the underbrush was.

Blaster roared down the road. The driveway to the cabin was another few miles.

“Don’t you pass out on me, you fucking white bastard, in yo creepy rich man’s cabin!” Jas yelled “Why do all y’all white folk need to plaster the walls with moldy old dead animals? You tell me that, bastard. Feel like they watchin’ me an’ shit. Beady dead eyes lookin’ outta carcasses.”

“She doesn’t talk like this,” Blaster said quietly. “She’s telling us there are eyes in the cabin.”

“You’re sure?” Gray asked skeptically.

“Yeah. She did it when we were being followed once. Sounds like conversation, but it’s a message. She’s as good as I am at seeing the details in her surroundings. I couldn’t catch her when she didn’t know what was different than it should be.”

Blaster pulled the truck off the road before he reached the cabin drive and turned it off. The cabin was a trap. The person in charge was running a delicate operation that depended on human behavior playing out normally. They’d correctly pushed Jas’ buttons to bring her to this place.

The complexity of the plan was erupting and none of them could afford to be sloppy. One thing had gone wrong with the plan, Larkin had known about it or guessed it. Amusing that human behavior was the only thing that tripped up a plan that had worked so flawlessly depending on the predictability of behavior.

In any case, roaring up the driveway is what he would have done normally. It was only logical to assume that the driveway would be both monitored and booby-trapped. He worked his way to the cabin through the thick scrub of the forest surrounding it.

Blaster was confident Jas had picked up that she was in a dangerous situation and possibly not alone in the house.

Jas had kept talking, apparently muttering to herself if one didn’t know what to listen for. It was a steady stream of information.

“Gives me the damn willies. Damn dead fuckin’ animals. There’s just no need for it. Surrounding yaself with stupid crap like dis. A body walks in here and it’s a freakin’ tomb.”

“She knows it’s a trap,” Blaster said softly to the two men listening. “She’s telling us not to enter the cabin. I’m betting it’s wired with explosives that can be detonated remotely.”

“Only white asses think it’s fun to stuff they kills and keep the carcasses hangin’ ’bout. Must be sixty dead animals in here. Who needs that many reminders they can point a gun? He prolly didn’t even get ’em in a fair fight. Use that blind shit, so he ambushing the poor things. Larkin, are you wakin’ up yet? You stay out and I will beat you to consciousness. You hear me, hillbilly white boy?”

“The trophies are stuffed with explosives,” Blaster interpreted her rambling. “She’s telling me it’s an ambush again and insisting we stay outside.”

“Insisting?” Gray chuckled darkly. “I think she just threatened to beat you if you came in.”

“That’s my baby,” Blaster acknowledged.

“I have the bike,” Jackson interjected. “Do you need help?”

“Naw, she’ll get out. Meet us at the jet,” Blaster responded. “Be ready to go, our tail might be hot.”

“Good luck.” Jackson took off.

Blaster remained at the edge of the yard. His concern about the possibility the drive was wired now extended to the rough yard surrounding the building. There was no way to tell, he didn’t have the right equipment.

“Ohhhh now you went and did that!” Jas yelled again. “Pass out and you have to piss your pants. Jesus, you stank! I need some fuckin’ air and then I’m gonna hose your foul ass down. You will tell me who pullin’ your fuckin’ strings, bastard.”

Jas came out the front door still yelling at Larkin. She was acting like a maniac, screaming threats over her shoulder into the cabin as she stepped onto the porch and grabbed one of the two smaller wicker chairs from the seating area and the matches from beside the candle.

The loud, steady stream of expletives didn’t even hitch as she strode to the other end of the porch where a kerosene lantern rested on the other table of that side’s seating arrangement. Swiftly screwing off the top to the lantern tank, she splashed the round wicker chair back with flammable liquid. Actions done in quick, smooth movements, she put down the lamp and lit a match. The wicker chair back ignited as she pitched it over the railing.

Jas dropped to the porch floor as the chair hit the ground. The rounded back allowed it to roll across the lawn and on the chair’s second revolution it exploded. She was up immediately to light and toss the second chair beyond the first one. Her throw was powered by adrenaline and this chair landed exactly where she’d aimed it and rolled just as the first had, exploding after a brief roll.

Jas figured time was up. She’d cleared a path more than halfway across the lawn but there wasn’t time for more. The two quick explosions would be slightly muffled in the house but the maniac had just about enough time to realize she’d suspected his trap. He probably wasn’t expecting her to know the different types of charges he’d have used in the yard. They had to be heat or weight activated and out in the wilderness, wired on some sort of switch. He couldn’t have the yard secretly mined if animals could trip it. She needed to get the hell outta Dodge.

Watching her from the woods, Blaster felt pride expand as his fucking smart woman worked out her problems. Damn! Her natural situational awareness was poetry in motion for a warrior. The instinctive predator living in her skin was the rare personality that made up any Unit. He’d never witnessed it outside his highly trained comrades. She was working her enemy, crawling into his head.

Blaster whistled an owl call and she knew he was in the trees at the edge of the lawn. No real owl would hang around after the two explosions. Jas was over the porch rail in a side jump using her hand for leverage and landing in the path her first chair had taken. It was barely enough time as she carefully followed the alleyway of the chairs.

If she didn’t make it away from the building fast enough, it wouldn’t matter if she stepped on a land mine. Speed was more important than caution. Luck would find her, or not. Jas dove the last ten feet, coming straight at Blaster. He managed to catch her and roll them both. The cabin went up in a massive blast.

“You hurt?” he asked urgently as he was yanking her up.

“No.”

They were both running through the underbrush. Explosions kept going off behind them as the cabin debris fell on the lawn.

“Yard was a minefield,” Blaster stated as they ran.

“Ya think?” Jas mocked him, dodging around trees.

“How’d you know?” Blaster questioned as they neared the truck and he started it with the remote.

“Bastard didn’t mean for anyone to live, not even his own,” Jas stated, and flung herself in the passenger side of Blaster’s truck. Diving in the driver’s side, he squealed away, flying down the road to the sound of continued booms from the cabin area. “It was a trap for all of us.”

“How’d you know he was gonna detonate?” Blaster wanted to know as Jas slumped on the seat that was bouncing wildly as they sped away.

“He had to. Larkin knew it too.” Jas grinned at him as they reached dangerous speeds on the narrow road. “You’re not driving like an old woman anymore.”

“Nope.” Blaster tried to concentrate on driving but he knew the woman beside him was still in trouble. Her system was fried with “go juice” and she had no way down.

Jas fished the mic out of her pocket. “We still live?” she asked, holding it up. Her hand trembled violently and Jas immediately lowered it.

“Yes. And recording,” Blaster confirmed, glancing at her, trying to read her. The animal in him was reading equally wild woman in her. She brought the storm with her. It swirled around her body in undulating waves of adrenaline.

“Who’s listening?” Jas wanted to know as she continued to pant in harsh breaths.

“Gray Winston, Unit commander. Jackson picked up the bike. He’s on the same frequency. He’ll have the jet ready to go by the time we get there.”

Jas tried to sound casual. It was difficult to control her body’s palsied shaking much less the intensely sexual urges rioting through her as she looked at the man who’d been there. Exactly where he’d promised. The impulse to jump her hillbilly clawed at her. “Jet? Hillbilly has a jet?”

Blaster being outside that cabin had been as intense for her as the actual battle. He’d come. He’d kept his word. He’d respected her. He’d allowed the two of them to be equal without her having to fight for it. The feelings welling up in her didn’t have a name. Mostly because she’d never experienced them before. Mixing that with the battle rush created a volatile turmoil that apparently translated to sexual urges just about too intense to withstand.

“It’s not mine, woman. Belongs to Winston.”

“How does retired military afford a jet?” Jas asked frowning, and not caring about the answer. She just wanted his voice, needed the comfort of his rough rumble. She needed a damn sight more but was having difficulty reading him. Her own chaotic wants were getting in the way as well as the insecure fear that he couldn’t still want her. Men went for the helpless princess sort, not the fully capable wicked witch type.

Blaster picked up the spare headset that’d been on the console between them and handed it to her. “He can explain. I’m driving here.” He glanced at her again and sucked in air, frowning darkly.

She took the earbud from him and immediately his hand snaked down to thrust between her thighs. His grip was hard and brief on her upper thigh but intimate as hell. That was the sign she’d been waiting for. Her body twisted around so she leaned over the console facing him. His arm lifted quickly and re-gripped the wheel around her. Her hands dug into his shoulders as her head tilted and she took his mouth.

His eyes glued to the road over her head, he let the heat exploded between them. There were things they needed to discuss, but right now base physical contact was required. Blaster groaned. His head dipped to press her mouth open with his. He needed more of this witch and he needed it right now. Her mouth opened eagerly, sucking his tongue into her damp depths, encouraging him to fuck her with it. A feminine purr accompanied the damp sounds of the kiss.

There were not enough words in the world to tell her where they were. He was damn proud of her but he was
never
letting her go off to battle alone again. She’d proved herself warrior woman. He’d proved she could trust him. Those questions had been answered and would not be repeated. If she ever faced death again, it’d be with him at her back fighting it off. Her surrender in the kiss, giving him control, appeased his ravenous need to assert his right to protect her in some small degree.