Night Game

moment insanity rode him hard and he contemplated wiping them all out. One long pulse would do it. Whitney’s army would be gone and Flame would be safe, at least for the time that it would take Whitney to rebuild. In the meantime, the GhostWalkers could actively search out their enemy.

He brushed away the idea, refusing to give in to temptation. He couldn’t hurt innocent people, not even to keep Flame out of the hands of a madman.

Tucker, stay on Ian, take out the other two and get around to the back. Gator and I will work our way to the southern side.

The four men at the windows, threatening to gain en trance to the building had to be removed. Gator moved like a silent wraith through the tall hedges, utilizing the cover to get close to the first of the two-man teams. One man dressed in black signaled his partner to come forward to use him as a human ladder to gain entrance into the building. Gator took them both, two shots, two kills. A bullet spit into the wall next to his head and he spun around, spraying covering fire as he dove toward the ground behind a two-foot wall of cement.

Corning up behind them, Kadan informed him.

Gator held his fire, afraid of hitting Kadan. He waited, eyes searching out the second two-man team nearest the building. They’d gone to ground at the first gunfire, but at least they hadn’t gotten into the building.

Kadan moved like a phantom, so fast, so silent, he was a blur as he crossed Gator’s line of vision. Gator blinked twice wondering if he’d really seen him.

You’re clear. Two down.

Tucker reported in. We’ve got two more down here and are going around to the back. Ian’s bleeding like a stuck pig.

It’s a scratch.

Tie it off, superhero, Kadan ordered.

Gator crawled through the shrubbery, careful to keep from moving any of the foliage. He could just make out a boot and part of a leg. In the shadows it looked like a fallen log. The leg moved as the enemy propelled his body forward toward the building. Gator heard the whisper of an order on a radio. He only caught three disjointed words, but it was enough to have him rolling to his right. Bullets thudded into the ground right where he’d been. The shots came from above and the fire continued, pinning him down.

They’ve got a sniper on the roof of the laboratory. He warned the others. He’s using infrared.

I’ve got him, Ian said confidently.

A single shot rang out and Gator saw the sniper fall. As the noise cleared away, he heard another sound and his heart nearly stopped. Maudit, Kadan, I hear them going into the vent. Warn Flame. I’m going in after them.

Flame. Kadan reached for her immediately. Gator hears the enemy in the vents. Can yon hear them?

Yes. We’ll take care of it.

Gator’s coming in after them. Don’t shoot him, no matter how angry you are with him.

I can handle this myself. She didn’t want Raoul risking his life for her. She didn’t want any of them to do that. Flame turned to Nonny. “I want you to get into the bathroom and lock the door. Don’t open it unless you hear either Gator or me tell you to, understand?”

“I can use a gun. I’ve been hunting all my life,” Nonny said. “I don’ want to be in a bathroom hiding when they come. I wouldn’t know what was going on.”

Flame handed her the semiautomatic. “Have you ever used one of these?”

“Gator showed me how. If it’s a gun, I can shoot it.”

“Then you get into the bathroom and stay there. Leave the door open if you prefer, but stay undercover. It will be easier for me to consider everyone in the room an enemy. Don’t fire unless you have to because you might hit me.”

“I’d rather stay out here with you and just gun them down as they come.”

“I’ll have the advantage, Nonny. They don’t want to kill me. That’s why it was so easy for me in the swamp. Raoul told me the sniper had tranqs in his gun. If some one tranqs me, feel free to shoot them.”

Nonny took the gun. It looked too big and heavy for her but there was a no-nonsense air about her that gave Flame added confidence.

Flame rolled the blankets in the bed and jerked the top sheet over them to make it look as if a body were asleep in the bed. She waved Nonny to the bathroom as she plunged the room into darkness. She went to the wall with the ventilation opening and crouched down, listening. It always amazed her when sight was taken away how acute all other senses became. She faced the grate as she detected the sliding of clothes along the inside of the ducts.

She sent a single note through the grate, a low pulsing wave that raced through the ducts. She kept it nonlethal, not knowing who else might accidentally be in the way of the sound wave. Stepping back against the opposite wall, she waited, knife in hand. Gator had provided her with an array of throwing knives, and she was grateful. She was accurate with them and trusted them much more than she did a gun.

Nausea came in waves, cramping her stomach. She broke out in a sweat, weak and sick. Chemo had a very bad effect on her; it always had. It didn’t make sense to go through it all again if the cancer was going to return.

Maybe she’d have to talk to Lily and ask a few hard questions.

The sounds coming from the air duct were getting louder. Whoever was in there seemed pretty sick and disoriented, thrashing wildly at one point. She held the gun against her thigh with her broken arm and the throwing knife clear of her body with her good arm. Maybe she’d get lucky and not have to kill him, and they’d have a chance to find out where Whitney was hiding out.

The grate was pulled off from the inside and the muzzle of a gun appeared, a small red dot shining around the room, searching the corners, the door, dwelling on the bathroom door. Flame willed Nonny to stay very still. Finally the red dot went to the bed and the stranger slipped into the room, gun held steady.

For the first time, Flame was unsure of herself. She thought there were three men in the ducts, but she couldn’t be certain. She was too sick to be able to concentrate properly. She was fighting the dry heaves and even her vision blurred. She felt behind her for the wall and the hilt of her knife scraped against it.

The man spun back, the red dot centered on her chest. “Drop it.”

She swayed. She wasn’t going to be able to do this. She couldn’t bring up the gun or the knife, She didn’t drop either weapon. Two men wiggled out of the duct behind the first one. They trained their weapons on her as well.

“Put it down,” the first man repeated. He held up one hand, softening his voice. “No one wants to hurt you, ma’am. Just put down the weapons and come with us.”

The other men had spread out and were beginning to go through the room. One neared the bathroom. Flame shook her head and pointed the gun at the one closest to Nonny. “I’ll go with you, but I’m keeping my weapons.” She tried to push off the wall and the movement caused her stomach to cramp. There was no way to stop from getting sick. She turned away from them, resting her head on the wall, her finger on the trigger of her gun, hand up to her head.

Even in her misery, she heard the whisper of a body in the air duct followed by the impact of a knife hitting a target. She managed to turn her head to see Raoul, arm around one of the enemy’s neck, holding the body in front of him like a shield, gun trained on the man near the bathroom. The body of the third man lay on the floor practically at her feet.

Instantly a red dot appeared over her heart. “Put it down or I’ll shoot her.” The stranger backed up toward the cover of the bathroom.

Nonny. Flame sent the warning to Raoul.

Hit the floor. Gator squeezed the trigger three times, rapid fire. One bullet in the head, two in the heart.

The stranger fired from reflex, but Flame had dropped down and the bullet went into the wall where she’d been standing.

The man Gator had in a headlock stabbed down with a knife, driving it into Gator’s thigh. He fell backward, stumbling, tracking with his gun a heartbeat too late.