Mind Game (GhostWalkers, #2)(92)

“We’ll want to know where they’re going to come in. Gator, you know the island best, as well as the terrain. Let’s choose our spot and direct them to an appropriate landing area,” Nicolas instructed. He glanced up at Dahlia and winked.

Somehow, under the circumstances, she didn’t find it all that reassuring.

“Away from the cabin,” Gator said. “We’ll have to block off a couple of the landing areas using natural barriers as roadblocks so they don’t get suspicious. I’ve got a few signs that will scare them off anyplace we want to protect.”

“We’ll want to draw them into a natural ambush area. Set up a few claymore mines with trip wires,” Nicolas said.

“I’ll cook,” Sam offered. “Ian knows his way around the claymore mines. Besides, he likes all those bugs in the swamp.”

Nicolas ignored him. “We’ll need trip flares set up anywhere there’s a possible landing site where they can sneak up on us. Tucker, you want to take care of that? I’ll need the rest of you to help with barriers once Gator gives us a location for the ambush. I want this tight, no mistakes. Let’s limit where they can come onto the island as best we can. We want them all in the same spot before we spring the trap.”

Gator’s stick continued to draw lines. “This is the canal. I’m thinking we set up shop here, Nico. It’s not too marshy, and they’ll be more apt to choose to walk through it then some of the other spots. They’ll think the bushes will be to their advantage as well, but they’ll be in a box. Half a mile up is a rock face and we can close in on either side and behind them.”

Nicolas studied the map drawn into the dirt from every angle. “It’s a go then. We have to take out the dock, Gator, otherwise, they may try a frontal attack using a mortar to take out the cabin.”

Gator shrugged carelessly. “We all have to sacrifice.

Let’s get to work. Sam, don’t you ruin those ribs. I marinated them with my special secret sauce.”

“They’re safe with me,” Sam said. “I’ll tear down the dock while the ribs are cooking. Watch for leeches, boys,” he added cheerfully, waving at them.

The men split up, jogging toward the areas directed. There were three main docking areas and one that could be used if necessary. Tucker set up the trip flares while Gator posted warning signs of sinkholes near the shore. He’d used the signs years earlier to keep the police from searching the island for his wayward brother. To make the intended landing spot more enticing, they drove a couple of old posts deep into the mud for a boat tie off and stamped vegetation into the ground to make the path appear used.

Dahlia stood on the roof and watched them work. The men shed their shirts and spent time dragging brush and placing objects in various locations. She could see a film of dirt rising in the air, but she couldn’t really tell what they were doing. All the while the music blasted a happy beat, and the smell of barbecued ribs provided a rich aroma.

Dahlia climbed off the roof to stand on the shoreline as Sam pulled apart the rickety dock. He carefully carried each plank out of sight. “What are you maniacs up to now?” she asked, her hands on her hips. If they were planning violence, she wasn’t catching a hint of fear or anticipation. They all seemed to be working readily with a happy smile. If anything she caught hints of hunger as the aroma spread across the small island.

“We’re just working up an appetite,” Sam assured. “Turn those ribs over, will you? If I burned them, the others would feed me to the alligators.”

“Speaking of which, one or two have joined us,” she pointed out.

Sam glared at the creature closest to him, sunning itself on the bank not more than a few feet from where he was waist-deep in the water. “Ugly things, aren’t they? Damn thing looks like it’s just waiting for me to turn my back on it.”

Dahlia sauntered over to the grill and frowned down at the ribs. “I’d offer to keep an eye on the alligators for you, but I’m thinking you’re holding something back from me. You and your little band of island boys busily working up an appetite just doesn’t work for me, you know?” She glanced past Sam deliberately. “Oh, look, a little friend for alligator to play with.”

Sam whirled around hastily, staring out over the water. “Where?” He twisted back in an attempt to keep an eye on the alligator sunning itself on the bank. “Where is it?” He yanked a plank loose and held it up as a weapon.

Dahlia carefully turned each rib over, secretly thrilled with the new experience. “I may have been mistaken.”

“That’s not nice. That’s just not nice at all,” Sam said, glaring at her.

“Well, it could have been an alligator, but more likely it was just bubbles or a floating stick or something like that. You aren’t nervous standing in the water like that, are you? I read a book on alligators, and I think they like to come up from the deep to strike, but maybe that’s sharks.”

Sam swore and hurried out of the water, dragging the plank with him and keeping it between him and the alligator on the shore. The creature didn’t move or give ground, but it did emit a low warning growl.

Dahlia burst out laughing. “You’re afraid of that little bitty alligator, aren’t you? It’s not even full grown.”

“That’s just wrong, girl,” Sam said. “I hope Nicolas knows what you’re really like. I’ll bet he’s never seen the mean side of your mouth.”