Murder Game (GhostWalkers, #7)(122)

“They’ll know we’re coming,” Kadan warned. He would know. He had to assume the Reaper would know. “This is their home turf. They know every trap, every mine. And they’ll be waiting for us.”

Nico, Jack, and Ken gave a brief salute and split off, heading for their assigned positions. Gator, Kadan, and Ryland continued forward, moving apart and working their way through the vines into the orchards, where there was more cover, but more chance of an ambush.

Kadan inhaled and scented sweat. He went to ground, easing his way along, skin changing to the color of his surroundings. A thin wire stretched across the narrow trail. “Watch yourselves, I’ve got traps. Push them toward me.”

He let his senses flair out, a strange sixth sense that had always been with him, long before he’d been enhanced, a type of radar like a cat’s whiskers. The enhancement had amplified it, giving him the ability to “see” images in sound. How close. How far. Large or small.

“One’s on you,” Jack hissed. “Move.”

A bullet rang out, thunked into a tree stump a hundred yards to his right. Kadan was already rolling to his left, into a shallow depression, and scooting forward. The man in the shadows had to be Hawk. The Reaper would never have exposed himself to Jack’s sight, not even briefly.

“How was he on me?” Kadan asked.

Voices erupted throughout the orchard. The sound of running and branches breaking came from several different areas. Kadan knew it was Gator, deliberately throwing sounds to disrupt the Reaper and Hawk from the hunt. Kadan slipped into the brush, keeping his body the color of his surroundings. He went up a tree, using his bristles to hold him while he climbed, careful to keep from shaking leaves.

Hawk moved along a narrow trail, gun in hand. He had marked the place where Kadan had gone down, but he couldn’t find him. Kadan inwardly frowned. He was completely camouflaged; he knew he was. He hadn’t shaken a bush or tree limb. How the hell had Hawk spotted him?

Hawk turned his face up to the sky and screeched, the sound a perfect replica of a hawk calling. A large red-tailed hawk spun a long circle overhead.

“He’s using the hawk’s vision,” Gator called, excitement and admiration infusing his voice. “He can see what the bird sees.”

Hawk turned toward the tree where Kadan clung to a branch just above his head, and the killer found himself looking right down the barrel of a gun. He died that way, watching the bullet come to him, drive him over backward where he sprawled out on the ground.

“Not anymore,” Kadan said and leapt from the tree, landing in a crouch just feet from the fallen body. “Seven down.”

The earth shook and rumbled; dirt and debris geysered into the air. The blast was loud, throwing Kadan off his feet and forward. Before he could push back up, another blast rocked the earth, followed by a third and fourth. Smoke poured around them, swirling thickly. Kadan sent out his radar and it bounced back to him. The Reaper was running.

Kadan went after him, trusting his warning system to let him know if he was nearing a trap. Twice he detoured from the trail, sprinting at full speed, hurdling several bushes when he was certain he was coming up on a trip wire. Automatic gunfire sprayed the area and he dove for cover. The Reaper was firing blind, and he was some distance away. Through the smoke it was impossible for him to see Kadan clearly, but certain Kadan was following, the Reaper was keeping the GhostWalker off of him.

The moment the firing stopped, Kadan was back on his feet running. His radar told him the Reaper was a hundred yards ahead. He put on a burst of speed, and instantly his warning system shrieked. He made another dive, rolling as he hit the ground. The earth shook, and another series of blasts sent dirt and smoke into the air.

A motorcycle roared to life, and Kadan burst through the smoke to see the Reaper fishtailing through the dirt toward the far ravine. Kadan set off at an angle, running fast, gun out, firing at the tires as he sprinted across the open field. The Reaper responded with automatic weapon fire, aiming under his shoulder, but not really taking the time to do more than try to slow Kadan down. He clearly had an escape route planned and was using it.

The bike plunged over what appeared to be a drop-off and was out of sight. Kadan didn’t slow down, streaking across the field to reach the edge of the slope leading to the deep ravine. Heavy brush and trees grew in haphazard fashion covering the walls of the deep cut through the mountain. If there was a trail, it was man-made and the Reaper knew it well. Kadan didn’t hesitate and followed him in.

The ribbon of a track was pitted and covered with grass and a few rocks. Someone had taken the time to try to make something that resembled a path. Kadan followed it, but even with his speed, the bike was pulling away from him. The Reaper knew the ravine, every twist and turn, and Kadan had to take care not to break a leg or go tumbling headfirst to the bottom. Branches hit him in the face and brush tore at his arms, but he ran all the same.

He spotted the Reaper going up what looked like a very steep side, powering the bike over rocks and shrubs to get to the top. He disappeared for a moment and then turned the motorcycle back, pausing at the top of the ridge to stare down at Kadan.

Kadan paused, ready to dive into cover if the Reaper lifted his gun. The Reaper stared down at Kadan, a cocky smirk on his face, and then jerked his middle finger high into the air.

Kadan gave him a small salute for the soldier he used to be. There was no way for the Reaper to know he’d been herded straight into a trap, but Ryland had planned the assault perfectly.