The Killing Game(111)

“Won’t be needing this,” he said and yanked her cell from her hand, tossing it into the bushes. Andi flung herself upward and then she was hit with a bolt of electricity that made the world disappear for a few seconds.

Tased, she thought, when she could arrange her thoughts again.

He’d zip-tied her hands and feet, buckled her into the seat, then circled the car to the driver’s seat.

She focused on what she could see of his face. The laughing mouth . . . those eyes . . .

Not Ben . . . Carter . . .

“Hello, little bird,” he purred, then lifted her limp head so he could rim her lips possessively with his tongue.





Chapter Twenty-Five



She nearly retched.

Carter was behind all of it.

Her stomach turned inside out at the thought of his disgusting kiss, if that’s what you could call it.

This can’t be happening, Andi thought wildly, her body still shaking, her brain rattling in her skull as she twitched in the seat of the unfamiliar car, and he stood in the open doorway, light from the interior spilling into the darkened parking lot. He was in silhouette for a second as she glanced at him. Dear God, did he have an erection?

Another surge of nausea washed over her and she wished she could leap to her feet, kick him in his nuts, and turn his own weapon on him.

She found it nearly impossible to believe that he had orchestrated it all: the threats, the misdirections, the “accidents,” and the cold-blooded murders.

Traitor. Killer. Freak. And pure, raw evil.

Pain surged through her. Her nerves didn’t seem connected to her mind, her arms and legs trembling wildly within her bonds. She wanted to fight, to scream, but even she couldn’t get out words that made any sense. The world was spinning, her eyes unable to focus on anything. Through the dirty windshield the sky collided with the ground, then spun. Still, she caught a glimpse of the eyes staring smugly from behind his mask. She’d trusted him. Thought of him as family. Never would have believed he was the mastermind behind the terror she’d come to know. Or was that just a lie she was telling herself now? She’d always kept him at arm’s length, hadn’t she? She’d sensed he wasn’t completely on the up-and-up.

But a stone-cold murderer?

How had she missed it? And how could she escape and warn the world, turn the tables on this cruel, perverted bastard? She shivered, as much from fear as the effects of the Taser.

Help me. Please, God, someone help me.

She thought of Luke and his last strange, chilling message: shootout here.

Was he injured? Who had been shot? Why? Did it have anything to do with Carter? The images in her mind swam and ran together, but if she could only reach Luke . . . kiss him . . . touch him . . . love him . . .

She blinked. Realized she was fading out. But she refused to fall victim to the blackouts that had once snuck up on her. She blinked. Tried to focus. Luke would be all right. He had to be.

Pain made it impossible to struggle, her muscles refusing to obey her mind’s commands. She attempted to break free, somehow escape, but her body was still twitching and jolting.

“Don’t,” he warned. “I will kill you. If you scream, or so much as utter a word, I swear to God, I’ll pull the trigger.”

She believed him, and yet words slipped out, shaking on her tongue. “Please, Carter, don’t do this!”

“I said, ‘shut the f*ck up,’” he reminded her and she stopped herself from pleading with him.

Fight! Don’t worry about the gun. He’s going to kill you anyway, the way he murdered the others. You know it. You’ll end up dead if you don’t resist. But her body wouldn’t respond and her head was pounding. Come on, come on. She tried to kick out, but her bound legs were rubbery and useless. Was there a security camera recording this, a guard even now watching the scene playing out in this night-shadowed parking area? Oh please!

“One bad move and I’ll tase you again, little bitch. I know you talked to Rafferty, and that just wasn’t smart. You’ll have to pay for that.”

She studied this man she’d known for so many years, a man, she realized now, she didn’t know at all. Why? she wondered anxiously. Why, why, why?

Carter had obviously killed Trini and that woman found in the Columbia River and probably Greg and maybe Emma, his own damned siblings.

Her lips still were wet with the vile saliva from his tongue. Her stomach revolted. Desperately, she tried to think of a way to save herself, but getting out of the car would be hard, running or escaping impossible. Her phone was long gone and no one, not one soul, was around.

She couldn’t let him get away with it. Gun or no gun.

She opened her mouth, intent on screaming, but just as she did he shoved a rag that smelled acrid and foul deep into her throat. She couldn’t help the gag reflex that followed but fought the urge to throw up.

God help me.

Satisfied with his work, Carter slammed the door shut and hurried around the vehicle. Instead of getting inside immediately, he took the time to reach into the backseat and withdraw a jacket that he shrugged in to, though he was still wearing his damned ski mask and hoodie beneath it.

She tried to focus on the inside of the car. Could she lock him out? Find a way to press the lock and . . . no. What about a weapon? Or getting out of the car? Staying in the vehicle, doing what he asked, was certain death.