Ghostwalker 07 - Murder Game
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"It was an accident."
His hand spanned her throat, tipping her head up. Cold blue eyes stared down at her.
A
" ccidents are fucking out of the question f om r
here on out. Are we straight on that?"
Tansy's eyes searched his. She swallowed against his hard, calloused palm before nodding.
K
adan leaned down to i
k ss her, brushing feathery kisses all over her face, throat, and neck. When he got to her earlobe, he tugged with his teeth and then pressed his lips against her. "Never scare me like that again. Never ."
"I won't."
Kadan didn't much care that he was demanding the impossible. He kissed her again and pushed the gun into her hand. "Don't move until one of us comes for you." He waited until she nodded again before he turned away and strode out of the room.
The moment he was in the living room, he went into warrior mode, gathering his equipment and slipping out of the house through a window. He went up where he could have a better view of the neighborhood and the yard. He didn't want anyone to get close enough to enter the house, or even get where they could fire into the bedroom where Tansy lay. On the outside Kadan had Nico, who could hit anything in his crosshairs, and Gator, who had an army of animals and the capability to walk through enemy lines and dispose of anything coming at him with his knife. Ryland was inside, prepared to evacuate with Tansy at a moment's notice.
"I want a full count, Nico," Ryland's voice hissed in Kadan's ear. "We're taking this one to them. They've been coming at us, and this time we send a message back to Violet.
Bring it hard."
Kadan took a long, slow look around. He'd chosen a house far back from the street in a quiet cul-de-sac. The streetlights didn't reach the edge of the property and the nearest house was yards away. Down the street, only a half a block away, was a park, well manicured but with several stands of trees. Behind his house was his escape route, a Jeep trail through an undeveloped lot that dumped into a street near a freeway.
"I have six. They think they're being very stealthy and they're definitely loaded for bear."
"Give me positions," Kadan snapped.
"Six o'clock, between two houses. Coming toward the backyard," Nico responded.
"I've got him," Gator said into his radio. "You can move, Kadan; none of the dogs are o
g ing to a
b rk."
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"Second man coming over the roof, third house on the right. I've got him marked," Nico droned. 'Third running along the fence just about a block away, but coming fast."
"He's mine," Kadan said, and slipped over the edge of the roof, dropping into a crouch in the grass.
"Make the targets quiet, if possible," Ryland said. "Nico, can you hold off on your man until we locate the other three? Once you take your shot, the others will k r
now we' e
u
h nting them."
Kadan went through the front yard in a crouching run, using blurring speed. Motion drew the eye, but with the night and their enemies a distance away, he was confident he could make it to cover before he was spotted. He flattened against the SUV parked in front of the house, waiting again.
P
" osition," he whispered.
"Closing fast, about ten yards."
Kadan went up the side of the SUV and gained the roof, lying flat, knife in his fist. Gator crossed the open meadow at the back of the house, a shadowy figure that flitted from one lone tree to the next, taking him closer and closer to the neighbor's yard. Kadan had always admired the smooth, stealthy way Gator moved. There was never a sound, as if even the wind held back when he was on the move. He could make himself part of anything, until it was impossible to see him when he went still, and then he just flowed like water over rock.
Gator stretched out on the lawn, lying prone out in the open. Kadan marked where he'd gone down, but still had trouble spotting him. Footsteps forced him to look away. His prey was drawing close. He shifted, the movement barely discernible. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the first man emerge between two houses and rush across the open space of the lawn, directly in Gator's path. The Cajun rose up like a specter, his knife hand flashing in a swift slash, across, down, and back up. He stepped back
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