Ghostwalker 03 - Night Game

then his rifle and ammunition aside. His clothing and hair were already soaked from lying in the water so he didn’t waste time, kicking hard at the front door with his boot, so that it sagged on the rusty hinges. A second kick took it all the way out, but flames licked along the floor from the wood splintering. Black smoke rolled into the cabin in waves.

    Gator leapt through the ring of fire to Flame’s side. She’d already rolled Joy in a wet sheet and awkwardly hefted the woman onto her back in a fireman’s carry—difficult to do with one arm, even enhanced. The other woman appeared to be too weak, or too drugged, to stand on her own. She sobbed uncontrollably but clung tightly to Flame, even when Gator tried to remove her.

    “Joy! You know me. Let me take you so we can get out of here.” His eyes met Flame’s as he hoisted Joy to his own shoulders. She looked frightened, but calm. Both looked at the doorway. The flames were hot and greedy, pieces of wood falling off. “You ready?”

    She nodded.

    “You stay right behind me.” Without hesitation, Gator rushed the ring of fire, leaping over the flames on the floor and through to the outside. The wind generated by his body made the flames flare as he leapt over them.

    Flame followed him through. She jumped, drawing her knees up to her chest, uncaring of the landing so much as not getting burned. She landed in a crouch and somersaulted down the slope nearly into the water, landing facedown in the mud. She lay there, listening to the crackle of the fire, the lapping of the water, and her own heartbeat.
    Mostly, she felt the pain crashing through her broken arm, sending shock waves through her body.

    Gator’s hands were gentle as he helped her up. He wiped mud from her face. “You’re always such a mess.”

    “I don’t like you very much.” She pushed his hand away and sat on the slope waiting for her strength to return.

    “You’re crazy about me.”

    She scrubbed her hand over her face. “I’m just crazy.”

    “I know, but that’s what I find so attractive.” He leaned in close and brushed his mouth gently against hers. “Joy’s in bad shape. Wyatt’s bringing the airboat, but she’s in shock.
    She won’t talk or look at me and she can’t stop shaking. I know you’re hurt.” He touched her arm gently and brushed his fingers against hers.

    “It’s not that bad. I’ll stay with her while you all do whatever it is you do to secure the place.” She allowed Raoul to help her up, mostly because she was suddenly so exhausted she wanted to crawl into a bed and sleep for hours. She even leaned on him as he walked her to a small clearing away from the burning cabin. She recognized it from the photographs that Joy had taken.

    She sat down beside the woman and put a steadying hand on her shoulder, mouthing to Gator to go away. “They can’t hurt you anymore, Joy,” she said. “Every one’s been looking for you. No one gave up hope.”

    There was a small silence while the wind fanned the flames. Overhead the gray clouds began to drizzle rain on them again. “I did,” Joy said. “I gave up hope.”

    “Wyatt Fontenot sent for his brother to come find you. Raoul took a personal leave from the military and has spent weeks tracking you down.”

    “What am I going to do?” Joy shuddered visibly. “How can I ever rebuild my life? I’ll never be the same.”

    “No, but you’ll be stronger. You’re a survivor. You think you gave up, but you were right there, trying to fight Vicq Comeaux right along with me.” Deliberately she used his name. “I saw you try to grab his ankle when he came at me. That’s a fighter, Joy. They had to keep you drugged because they couldn’t break you. Whatever you did in that room with those men, you did to survive. That’s all. You came out of it alive.”

    “I heard Carl say to be more careful with me than they were with Francine. I think she’s dead. She disappeared a couple of years ago. There were four of them.” Joy began to sob again, covering her face. “The worst one wasn’t here. He’ll find me and he’ll kill me.
    He’ll beat me to death.” The words tumbled out of her, an expression of fear and loathing.

    “We know all about Saunders,” Flame assured her. ‘He had a very good friend of mine killed. I’ll be very surprised if he makes it to trial.”

    “Trial? Oh God. Everyone will know. They’ll show the movies they made. My family will be