Murder Game (GhostWalkers, #7)(116)

I know you can hear me. Are you enjoying our little game as much as I am? I’ve found out quite a bit about you. Things you probably don’t know about yourself. I have access to several very secret files. I’d share if you were interested.

Deliberately she stirred, sending a vibration along the thread, somewhere between apprehension and curiosity, spinning her spider’s web to catch herself a fly. The puppet master would want to talk. He’d never had the opportunity to show off before. This was his big chance. He couldn’t let her live long, of course, but while she was alive, he could share his superiority. Someone would know.

Tansy let him make the connection stronger, sending his energy back along the thread to find her. And with his energy came more information. She saw the box on the table, the bold, precise lettering. James R. Dunbar.

Kadan opened his hand and dropped the scorpion. They had him.





CHAPTER 19


Kadan sat at a small booth in the bar, Jeff Hollister and Gator across from him. Nico had already staked out the high ground just in case they needed backup. Jeff was a California boy, born and bred for surf and fun, with his bleached blond hair, dark tan, and ripped body. He looked at home in the bar, a trendy place overlooking the crashing waves below. Directly behind Kadan sat his prey, drinking a cup of coffee and reading a newspaper.

“You’re always braggin’,” Gator said aloud. “You’re so full of shit. No one can hold their breath underwater that long, bro. Fifteen minutes, what a crock.”

Jeff hitched forward. “I heard of a guy, local legend around here, owns a scuba business. Rumor has it he can hold his breath easily that long.”

Kadan snorted loudly, derisively. “Talk about a braggart. I heard of that airbag. Talks himself up so people go to his business, but I could outlast him any day of the week. On my worst day that blowhole couldn’t compare.” He shoved himself away from the table, standing. “I’m going to start my own business and run his ass right outa this town.”

Jeff and Gator laughed at his joke and Kadan waved and sauntered off. Behind him, he heard a chair scrape and felt the other man following close. Kadan went out into the night and inhaled, dragging information into his lungs. Frog had taken the bait, if it was Frog, and Kadan was certain Flame and Lily had found their killer. He was ex-Special Forces, had applied for the psychic enhancement, supposedly been turned down, but had disappeared for special training for months. He’d resurfaced with a team and run some missions, but his team had a bad reputation for trouble. In the end, he had been discharged and now ran a scuba diving business for tourists.

Kadan paused with his hand on the door of his SUV, to light a cigarette, something a diver wouldn’t do.

“Hey, man.” Frog came up beside him. “I heard you inside, talking about free diving. I do a little of that. I like to go down without gear.”

Kadan grinned, a cocky smirk. “Gear’s for wimps.”

“I’ve got a boat right on the dock,” Frog persisted when Kadan turned away. “You want to go man-to-man and see who can hold their breath longer? Or are you scared?”

Kadan allowed his face to darken and his eyes to smolder. “No one can beat me under the water. I’m a f*cking fish.”

“I’m a shark. So let’s do it.”

Kadan slammed his door shut and snapped away the cigarette he hadn’t smoked. He didn’t bother to look around; he could feel the GhostWalkers, his team, closing in to back him up. He went with the ex-SEAL, following him along the dock until they came to a high-powered boat. He stepped on without a qualm, showing off a little, that same cocky smirk on his face.

“You really think you can beat me?” Kadan asked.

In answer, Frog started the boat and took off over the waves to open water. They passed a small fishing boat just a few miles offshore and Frog killed the engine. Without a word he stripped off his shirt and tossed his shoes aside. He waited for Kadan to do the same before he started the boat again and began angling it back toward a small inlet.

He slowed the boat considerably, weaving through the water as if going through a minefield. Kadan glanced into the water and his gut tightened. A small colony of the dead stared back at him. This was Frog’s own private play-ground. Frog stopped the boat, reached into a cooler, and swung around.

Kadan was on him before he could complete the turn, catching the wrist of the hand with the small needle protruding through his fingers. “What’s wrong, Frogman? You have to drug me to beat me? I’m not one of your civilians who trust you.”

“Who are you?” Frog demanded.

Kadan held him close. “The executioner.” The knife concealed in his other hand came up, sweeping across Frog’s throat, cutting deep. He shoved the body face-first into the sea, right over the top of the man’s victims as they stared upward just inches from the surface of the water. Kadan wiped the knife clean, slipped it into the sheath, retrieved his shirt, and tied his shoes around his neck before going into the water. The fishing boat picked him up. Nico gave him a hand into the boat.

“At least seven victims in the water. We need a cleaner in here fast,” Kadan said.

“I already radioed them,” Nico answered.

“One down,” Kadan announced.





Kadan lifted binoculars to his eyes and stared down at the woman walking out of the bar, her legs showing to their best advantage in a short tight skirt and high heels. She had a sway that said she was on the prowl and a body that promised heaven. Her husband, Ken Norton, stood a foot away from him, a scowl on his scarred face as he watched his wife open the door to a sleek little low-slung car.