Murder Game (GhostWalkers, #7)(107)

Tansy tried again. The two remaining ivory pieces were side by side, so she could judge their potency. The scorpion hit her fairly hard, sending impressions of rage into her mind. She quickly pulled her hand away and stared at the last one—the hawk. “I think this is my best shot at it, Kadan. The others throw off so much violence I get impressions when I’m inches from them. This one is much more contained.”

“Let’s do it then,” Kadan said. He stroked his hand down her back, the curve of her spine, and over her rounded bottom. He didn’t know if he touched her for himself or for her, but he couldn’t stop the caress. His hands went to her hips, slid up under her shirt, and massaged the ribbon of skin there with the pads of his fingers. “Are you certain, Tansy?”

She nodded. “I’m pretty sure I can get him.”

He bent his head to the nape of her neck, scraping his teeth back and forth. “I know you can, baby. Find him for us.” She would never know what it cost him to say it, but he forced the words with conviction, when deep inside, his belly was back to knots. He couldn’t summon the ice when anything concerned her, not even when he needed it most.

Tansy didn’t hesitate. She cupped her hands around the small ivory hawk. Instantly the energy swarmed over and into her mind. Images poured in along with the thick sludge that she’d long ago come to accept with murder. She kept her palms very close, almost brushing the ivory game piece.

He’d drawn a card and the murder was very precise. He had to follow specific steps in order to get the points his team needed, now that they had a real chance to win, thanks to Stallion’s screwup. No imagination involved in this one, no creativity. The victims were always picked well in advance, but usually they got to at least choose how they wanted to “do” them.

“You’re not happy, are you?” she murmured aloud.

Kadan edged closer to her, skin to skin, wishing they were both naked and he could slide against her, distracting her from being sucked too far down the tunnel where the wailing victims waited and the killer grew stronger.

Tansy tried to push past the killer to find the threat she was looking for, but Hawk was upset. He was a careful man and he didn’t like the way the play was laid out. He wanted to contact the referee, usually forbidden unless the murder had to be forfeited. His team members were upset with him, but they weren’t the ones carrying out the details, and it wasn’t fair. He was good at what he did, and he followed every script down to the last detail—until this one. The instructions were just too precise, and he didn’t like it. The ref was probably trying to get Team One back into the game after Stallion screwed up so badly.

The Reaper was especially angry, getting in his face. He wanted to win this round, and when the Reaper insisted they do something his way, the others always went along. Well not this time. This was his game and the play had to be fair.

Kadan stiffened. He knew that name. He’d come across the Reaper a few years back running a mission in Afghanistan. Big man. Competent. Cold eyes and hands like Nico when he held a gun. He started to tell Tansy, but he didn’t want to break her concentration. He could track the Reaper. Marine. A lot of combat experience. What the hell was he doing running with a bunch of murderers? Over the years, they’d fought a few battles together, and the man knew his job. Kadan had respected him.

Had he been enhanced? Kadan didn’t think so, not at the time. That had to have come later. The man hadn’t been a stone-cold killer, not then. So did that mean enhancement could push someone a little twisted over the edge? Jack and Ken Norton had often speculated about that, along with some of the other GhostWalkers. Maybe it wasn’t the same man at all. Kadan hoped not; he’d been a good soldier.

Tansy pressed closer to the hawk figurine, allowing her gloved hand to brush the individual feathers. He refused to let the Reaper intimidate him; he used the Internet, finding the guest book the ref had given them to put a message on. The guest book was a best-selling author’s, and only an automatic reply would get back to him. He would check the next day for the ref’s reply. When it came, Hawk was unhappy. There could be no deviations. Follow instructions exactly or lose all points.

“I’ve got you,” Tansy breathed the words aloud, fighting down excitement. She had to stay calm and not allow any vibrations on that anchor thread that ran to the puppet master. She began a slow, inch-by-inch crawl along the tunnel, desperately trying to ignore the shocked gasps of the victims as Hawk entered the house through a second-story window and, following the dictates of the card he’d drawn, went into the young boy’s bedroom first and made short work of him. The two girls were next.

Tansy closed her eyes, her breath ragged as she tried to slip past without looking in, but it was impossible. One child was around eight, the other no more than five. At least he was merciful, not drawing it out. They were dead before they were aware of the intruder. Hawk crept down the stairs, glancing at his watch, careful of the time. The adults were in the first bedroom. He killed the man instantly, before he woke the woman.

Fear burst over Tansy in waves. He taped her mouth and hands and proceeded to stab the dead male repeatedly while she watched, sobbing and pleading, terrified of him. He didn’t speak, but grabbed her and dragged her back upstairs, first throwing her on the bed with the little girls, allowing their blood to coat her gown. Tansy could feel his distaste for the task, but he dragged her to the little boy’s room and shoved her onto that bed. She was moaning now, in shock, trying to reach her child.