Ghostwalker 04 - Conspiracy Game

performance, to land on her feet. Sprinting around the corner of the trailer, she raced back toward her brother.

    Luther burst out of the shadows, slapping the gun out of Tyrel’s hand, knife gleaming as he sliced viciously at his jugular. The blade missed by a scant half an inch as Tyrel stumbled back. He did a series of back springs to put several feet between them, but Luther was just as fast, covering the distance in a single leap, the knife slashing fast, over and over, cutting Tyrel’s arms as he tried to defend against the unbelievably fast attack.
    Blood splattered in all directions—drops hit Briony as she burst from the garden to strike Luther with the heel of her hand flat on his chest, putting her weight behind it and using every ounce of adrenaline and enhanced strength she had. He slashed with the knife as he fell backward. Briony felt the bite of the blade along her forearm, but she kept going straight at him, kicking at his hand to try to get rid of the blade. She missed his arm, but nailed him in the ribs.
    As she attacked again, she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. Ron emerged, limping, gun in hand. Briony leapt at Tyrel, knocking him back as Ron fired off several rounds in rapid succession. Briony and Tyrel hit the ground, rolling away to shelter.
    Luther rose and glanced toward the animal cages, where the people were beginning to turn heads. “This isn’t over,” Luther snarled. “And when I get my hands on you, you’re going to wish you were dead.”
    Briony kept her head down, trying not to be sick, the pain squeezing her head almost as bad as the day she’d found her parents. Was it possible Luther could amplify what she was feeling?
    Tyrel stroked her hair. “How bad, honey? Did he cut you?”
    She waited until she heard the car leave before she pushed herself into a sitting position, rocking back and forth. “I’m going to pass out, Tyrel. I can’t have a seizure, I don’t know what it would do to the baby.” She raised her hand to press her palm against her head.
    Blood dripped steadily.
    Tyrel swore. “That’s deep. You need stitches.”
    “Maybe we should call Dr. Sparks,” Briony suggested a little hysterically and leaned over and threw up again.
    Pounding footsteps announced the arrival of her other brothers. Seth reached down and plucked her out of the wet grass, while Ruben wrapped her arm in his shirt.
    “How bad, Tyrel?” Jebediah asked. “You’re all cut up to hell.”
    “They’re shallow,” Tyrel confirmed, “but Briony’s needs stitches.”
    Jebediah swore. “Get her in the house. I’ll take care of both of you, and then we have to get out of here.”

    “Where are we going?” Ruben asked. “Why are they suddenly after Briony?”
    “She thinks they killed Mom and Dad,” Jebediah said. “And I’m beginning to think she’s right. Get everything out of the safe and let’s go now.”
    “Jebediah.” Seth’s voice stopped them all. He was standing in the doorway of Jebediah’s room.
    They turned slowly to stare at him. He stepped back to allow them to see the chaos in the trailer. The place had been torn apart and the safe door was open—the contents gone.
    “There were three of them,” Briony whispered. “I didn’t even smell them.” She looked at her brothers with horror on her face. “Who are these people?”

    CHAPTER 8

    Briony stared out the window into the pouring rain. The small villa where Jebediah had taken them belonged to an old friend of her parents, a fellow circus performer now retired.
    They traveled most of the night to get there and arrived tired, hungry, and irritable. Being in the close confines of the car had been hell for Briony. Her brothers were angry and scared and worried. Tyrel was in pain and trying to hide it. No one said a single word about Tony’s death—but it was on all of their minds. She threw up so many times Seth even began to curse, frustrated by all the stops they had to make.
    “Briony?” Tyrel stood in the doorway. “Are you up to talking or do you need to be alone for a while?”
    She turned away from the rain to look at her brother, love for him overwhelming her for a moment. He always inquired, and that meant a lot to her. “What are you doing up? I thought you’d be sound asleep by now.” Deliberately she curled up on the sofa to indicate she didn’t mind company.
    “I was asleep, but my arms were hurting so I got up to try to find some aspirin. I brought you some just