Deadly Game (GhostWalkers, #5)(102)

Senator Freeman stepped close to the door. “You will come with us.”

“When I slit your throat, Senator, I’m going to do it slow, so you can feel it, just the way Ekabela did to Ken Norton.”

Freeman’s eyes flicked to his guards and then to Whitney. “So you do know Ken Norton.”

“Don’t you say his name,” she hissed. “I mean it. Don’t you dare.” She let the promise of death smolder in her eyes.

The senator stepped back, casting another swift look around him at his bodyguards to insure they were in position. Violet stepped protectively in front of him.

Mari reached out telepathically to her most vulnerable sister. Rose. Are you clear? Can you get clear?

Kane is taking me up to the ground level. We’re using the service elevators. He’s helping me escape because he’s afraid of what Whitney will do to the baby.

Violet cleared her throat. “She’s talking to someone.”

Whitney had that same little half smile on his face. “She’s talking to him. Ken Norton. You are, aren’t you? He’s close. I knew he wouldn’t leave you, any more than Jack would leave Briony.”

“Go to hell, Whitney.”

He lifted his eyebrow and gestured Freeman and Violet and their bodyguards down the hall. “There is no point in trying to reason with her when she’s this way,” he said. “We’ll let my men handle it. Would you care for coffee, Ed?” He left without a backward glance, Sean following.

“You look like his dog, Sean,” she called after him, furious that both Violet and Sean could be such traitors.

Mari heard heavy footsteps approaching her cell. They wanted her to know they were coming. They wanted her to be afraid. Fear was creeping in whether she wanted it to or not. Whitney always seemed so powerful. Had he found a way to use Mari to capture Ken, Jack, and Briony? She felt sick.

The cell door was yanked opened and she faced two of Whitney’s security team. She recognized them both. Don Bascomb thought he was tough, but Gerald Robard really was. The two stood shoulder to shoulder, both with somber expressions.

She forced a smile. “Haven’t seen you two around. How have you been?” She forced herself to look as nonchalant as possible. Mari tried to be the picture of complete cooperation.

There was no warning. Robard was on her before she was even aware she was in danger. He hit her with the force of a nine-hundred-pound tiger, driving her across the room, her head snapping back under the force and a thousand stars whirling, as the room spun and began to go to black. “Sorry, kid,” Robard said, catching her before she hit the floor. “There’s no need to make this harder on you than it already is.” He laid her on her bed. “He wants you looking in bad shape. Whatever you do, Mari, don’t defy him like you always do. Just cooperate and it won’t be so bad.”

Don Bascomb produced a needle and syringe. Mari’s eyes widened and she shook her head violently in protest. As Robard bent over her, she brought up both feet and smashed him as hard as she could in the chest, driving him back. He hit the wall from the force of her blow, grunting a little, his face darkening with anger.

“I’m trying to make this easy on you, you little she-devil. Come on, Mari, it’s the old man’s orders. Anyone else would just take the shot and go to sleep. I can work you over while you’re out, and it’s done.”

It amazed her how reasonable he sounded, as if knocking out a woman and beating the crap out of her while she was unconscious was perfectly okay. Robard swept the blankets from the bed and came at her again.

They wanted Ken to see her black-and-blue body. She was sure they planned to let him catch a glimpse of her as they brought her out to the plane. They were certain he’d follow them—and he would—even back to the Congo.

Bascomb stood back, grinning, as he pulled a couple of vials of clear liquid from his shirt pocket. “Have fun, Ger.”

There was no sound, nothing at all to give him away. One moment Bascomb was standing there looking like an ape, taunting his partner, the next he was slumped on the floor, a needle sticking out of his neck and Ken filling the room looking the angel of vengeance. The guard at the door lay in the open doorway in a pool of blood, his throat slit.

“Let’s see you hit someone your own size,” Ken said softly.

Too softly. Mari winced at his tone. It was one she recognized as being lethal. Being a practical woman, she rolled off the bed and searched Bascomb’s body for the other vial, quickly filled a syringe, and circled around behind Robard. He was concentrating on Ken, not thinking she was a threat at all. Ken shouldn’t be there. He couldn’t get caught, and no matter what, Robard had to be out cold when Whitney got there.

“Ken Norton. How the hell did you get here?” Robard asked, and feigned a right punch, only to swing around with a roundhouse kick.

Ken blocked the attack and delivered a fist with the force of his enhanced strength as well as his body weight behind it, straight to the man’s face. Robard staggered under the impact, taking one step back in an effort to regain his balance. Ken ducked under his raised fists and hit hard with three consecutive blows, a left, right, and a hook that stunned Robard. Mari stepped forward and plunged the needle into the guard’s buttocks, pushing the plunger to release the clear liquid.

The sound of a door slamming down the hall alerted her. Mari’s heart nearly stopped beating. She grabbed Ken’s arm and shoved him. “Get out of here. They’re coming. I mean it, go now.”