Ghostwalker 03 - Night Game

eyes met James Parsons’s. He was smiling. She became aware of the musty scent of sex. Both James and the driver wore evening clothes, as if they were returning from a party.

    She smiled back, sliding deeper into the seat. Her gaze shifted around the car, taking in the neat bar and the plasma screen. The player was tiny, a mini DVD player. Beside it was a disc much like a CD but smaller. “Thanks for helping me.” Her gaze drifted toward the front. A small red eye blinked back at her.

    “James, get her something to drink.”

    The order came from the driver and there was a distinct command to the voice. James reddened as he leaned forward to pour amber liquid over ice in a small Waterford tumbler. “I know what to do,” James snapped under his breath. He thrust the glass into her hand. “Drink this.”

    Flame swirled the liquid over the ice. She’d bet her last dollar that the drink was doped.
    “I’m dripping blood all over your seat. Do you have a towel?” No matter how hard she reached for her voice, it wasn’t there. She sounded thin and reedy.

    James’s smile stretched wider, but didn’t reach his eyes. His expression remained flat and cold and empty.

    Flame glanced away from him to the front where the driver sat. His eyes stared back at her from the rearview mirror. Not cold. Not flat. Not even empty. There was cruelty there—worse—evil. And there was a carnal lust she’d never encountered. Not normal, not even kinky. Just raw depravity.

    James leaned into her, pushing the drink toward her mouth. Still staring into her eyes, he yanked at the front of her plaid shirt, ripping it away to expose her bare breasts.

    She threw the contents of the drink in his face, followed the liquid up with a hard slam of the Waterford crystal tumbler to the side of his head. “Back off you slime bucket.” She tried the door, found it locked and slammed the tumbler against James’s head a second time when he lunged at her. “I’m not sweet little drugged Joy, am I?”

    She might not be drugged and she might not be Joy, but she was definitely going to get sick again. The bones in her arm grated together, this time taking her breath away.

    “What the hell!” Carl exclaimed.

    Flame glanced at him and her eyes widened as she saw the GhostWalkers materializing out of the gray rain.

    They stood in a line across the frontage road, semiautomatic rifles to their shoulders, muddy, wet, barely discernible in the driving rain. Behind them, a helicopter set down making it impossible to get past them. Carl slammed on the brakes instantly.

    He shoved open his door. “I’ve got a woman hurt here. I’m trying to get her to the hospital.”

    Gator and Kadan split off from their group, walking up from either side of the car, the rifles rock steady. “Where is she?” Gator asked.

    “In the back,” the driver said. “She’s bleeding all over the place.”

    “Did you call an ambulance to meet you?” Kadan asked. “Unlock the back door,” he added when Gator stepped back as if he might drive the butt of his gun through the window.

    “I just picked her up. I was calling when I saw you.”

    “We’ll take her from here. We’ll airlift her to the hospital.” Kadan never once lowered the barrel of his rifle.

    Gator yanked open the door and stared at Flame. She was covered in blood and mud. Her shirt was torn open, her breasts exposed. She was so pale he thought she might have already bled out. “God, baby,” he whispered.

    She turned her head, the movement obviously painful. “I’m okay. You ought to see the other guy.”

    “I did.” He reached in and drew her out to him, careful of her broken arm. It was only when he was settling her against him that he realized the man in the backseat was James Parsons and his face was split open above his eye. Flame still clutched the bloodied crystal tumbler in her hand. “You son of a bitch. What did you do?”

    ‘Nothing.” James put his hands up. “I swear. She was hysterical. Her clothes were ripped, she was bleeding. We it her in the car and were taking her to the nearest hospital.
    I tried to get her something to drink, but she went crazy on me.”

    “The thing is, James,” Gator said, “I know where you live.” He kicked the door closed and carried Flame to the helicopter.

    Kadan stayed at his back, rifle trained on the driver of the car. The other GhostWalkers were motionless until Gator was safely in the helicopter and then they