Ghostwalker 08 - Street Game

little about that team beyond their confirmed existence.
    The tapping of a finger on the counter caught her attention. She looked up. You all right? Javier asked.
    She nodded. But she wasn’t. Her stomach was in knots and she wanted to throw up. This was not coincidence. She’d worked hard to get out of that life, to build a future, not only for herself but for the others. They would need it later, when all was said and done—if they survived. Psychics had a difficult time without a controlled environment. She meant to build up a surplus of money and a safe haven for her family. Instinctively, like she knew so many other things, she knew everything she’d worked for was being threatened.
    Mack’s voice whispered in Javier’s ear this time, using the radio so Paul was a part of the orders. “Come up behind them, Kane.”
    Gideon’s voice interrupted. “We’ve got a sleeper, boss. Third window, second story. I caught a flash.”
    “You certain?”

    39

    “Don’t insult me. He had to have seen Javier take out his men.”
    There was a small silence as Mack examined the two dead men. “These men are military,” Mack’s voice nearly growled. “What the hell’s going on?”
    Javier’s heart jumped. “You telling me I killed a couple of our own?”
    “We’re getting pictures and fingerprints. No IDs on them, but they’re military.
    They came prepared to take her,” Mack assured. “They have an injector that looks like a tranq, but we won’t know until we test it. Ties. Firepower. They aren’t innocent, so don’t sweat it.”
    Easier said than done. Javier shook his head and tried a few deep breaths to settle his churning gut. His every instinct had told him they were the enemy, but military?
    The same side? “What the hell are we into here, boss?”
    Jaimie shook her head. She couldn’t hear what Javier was saying, but she could read lips. They were all questioning what they were involved in. She’d made a mistake thinking the government would let her go. Once a GhostWalker, always a GhostWalker. She thought working as an analyst would satisfy them, but obviously she’d been wrong. Whatever was happening, the power orchestrating behind the scenes was determined to draw her back in, and planned on using Mack and her family to do it.
    A spurt of resentment had her kicking out at the wall in defiance. She’d told Mack. How like him to just go his own way with all of them following him, no one bothering to think about the how and why of anything. Now they were all in this mess. She’d done her best to convince them, but would any of them listen to her? She had a brain. A big brain. High school at eight. Graduating with honors from the University with a doctorate by the time she was twenty. Come on. Of course they wouldn’t listen to her. Mack was so much smarter.
    She kicked the wall a second time, wishing it was his shin. Mack. He was out there in the night, staring up at her window, gun slung around his neck, putting his men—no, not just his men; his family —in deadly peril, and loving every moment of it. Worse, even with all of her intellectual reasoning, she was just as bad as the others, following him anywhere he led, even when she knew it was down the wrong path.
    Who could resist Mack? Not her. Certainly not her. And he was back. He’d looked at her so differently. Not even in the year they’d been lovers had he ever looked at her with that particular expression he’d worn tonight. Not even when passion had burned hot and out of control between them. Not ever.
    She pressed a hand to her stomach. Did she never learn? He was poison to her.
    She forced herself to look at Javier, to concentrate on his lips.
    “He’s on the move,” Mack’s voice intoned in Javier’s ear. “Don’t let him get away.”
    “He’s moving across the rooftops with incredible speed, boss,” Gideon said. “I’m after him, but I don’t have a prayer of catching this guy. He’s souped-up with something.”

    40

    “Who’s on the move, boss?” Javier stirred, tried to peer out the window at the rooftop across from him. Something was moving fast, no more than a shadow. No more than a ghost. “The son of a bitch watching Jaimie?”
    Jaimie’s heart jumped. She always knew when she was being watched. Her internal alarm system never failed. How could it be possible that someone had set up to watch her and she hadn’t known? Maybe Mack was wrong. Doubt ate at her. Mack was many things, but he was