Night Game (GhostWalkers, #3)(99)

Joy crumpled to the floor, her legs unable to support her. Flame reached down to her, grasping her shoulders when the cabin shook slightly, and she knew immediately Raoul was warning her.

Vicq Comeaux stepped inside and quietly closed the door, a huge grin spreading over his face. “Nothing I like better than to see two women on their knees in front of me. Go ahead and touch the bitch, everyone else does.”

Flame’s eyes widened. She started to stutter an apology, standing, backpedaling—drawing him to her. Vicq stalked her across the small room, toeing Joy out of his way to get to Flame. Flame went for the helpless look, cradling her broken arm, making herself look even smaller until Vicq reached out with one meaty hand, grabbed her breast, and yanked hard to bring her to him. She went, using his tremendous strength along with her own, burying the largest knife she owned as deep into his gut as she could get it and jumped back out of his reach.

Vicq roared with pain, both hands going to the hilt as he stared at her. “What have you done?”

“That one was for Joy. This one’s for putting your filthy hands on me you son of a bitch.” Flame pulled the second, smaller throwing knife from inside the cast on her arm, watching his eyes widen with the certain knowledge that she wasn’t small and helpless. That she wasn’t tied up. That he couldn’t stop the inevitable. Even as he staggered toward her, she threw the knife with deadly accuracy, burying it in his throat.

Vicq went down hard, shaking the cabin as Joy tried to struggle to her feet. She began to sob quietly. “There are more of them. How are we going to get out of here?”



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CHAPTER 17





Gator used the debris along the bottom to pull his body through the shallow water yet keep him submerged at the same time. He heard Vicq and James shouting at each other. Water churned around him as James lost his footing and fell, his butt landing inches from Gator’s hand. Gator swept his knife free of his belt as the man scrambled to his feet, rushing out of the shallows up the slope toward the cabin.

Gator found the roots of the cypress trees growing through the deck and came up for air, keeping his gaze focused on the two men. James struggled up the slope, his hands curled into tight fists, his face flaming red, but he stopped just out of Vicq’s reach.

“Go play with yourself,” Vicq said. “If you come back inside I’m going to play with you. We’ll see how you like being my bitch.” He turned his back on Parsons, clearly unafraid of him.

Gator immediately bounced a sound wave through the cabin walls to warn Flame the man was returning. There was no call for help from inside so he kept his focus on James. The man was muttering to himself angrily as he stomped across the plank to the deck. Gator heard him dragging something. Before he could move into place to grab the man, he heard the sound of a boat coming toward them fast. He sank back into the water to assess the new threat.

“What the hell are you doing?” The shout came from the motorboat as Carl Raines swept into view.

James ignored the question, lodging a heavy piece of timber against the cabin door and picking up one of the cans of gasoline. He doused the walls of the cabin as quickly as possible, soaking the dry timber with gas.

“Are you crazy?” Carl tied up the boat and leapt into the shallow water to race up the slope.

James didn’t even turn around, picking up the second can and methodically covering the side wall, walking around the building until he was out of sight.

Carl stumbled, sliding in the mud a bit, turning slightly in his effort to recover and found himself staring eye-to-eye with the man lying half in and half out of the water. Gator’s face was streaked with mud and he blended into the shadows of the deck and roots, but Carl was nearly on top of him. As Raines pulled his gun, Gator shot him twice. The first bullet went between the eyes; the second went through his crotch. All around the hunting cabin, birds rose into the air, flapping wings and shrieking loudly.

Gator came up out of the water, his rifle to his shoulder as he emerged. James couldn’t have failed to hear the shots or the alarm of the birds and neither would Vicq, if he were still alive. Gator kept his mind firmly from dwelling on that possibility. His job was to clear the outside of any threat. Flame would do her job, which was to protect Joy. He ran up the slope to circle the cabin.

The smell of the gasoline combined with the whoosh of the fire as it ignited was overpowering. Anyone have a bead on that bastard? I have to get Flame and Joy out of the cabin. He sent the call immediately even as he raced around the side of the building to get to the front.

You’re covered. The sound of a rifle shot reverberated through the swamp and set the birds off a second time. Gator removed the large plank propped against the door just as the fire raced over the cabin, quickly engulfing it, the intense heat driving him back. He tossed the plank and then his rifle and ammunition aside. His clothing and hair were already soaked from lying in the water so he didn’t waste time, kicking hard at the front door with his boot, so that it sagged on the rusty hinges. A second kick took it all the way out, but flames licked along the floor from the wood splintering. Black smoke rolled into the cabin in waves.

Gator leapt through the ring of fire to Flame’s side. She’d already rolled Joy in a wet sheet and awkwardly hefted the woman onto her back in a fireman’s carry—difficult to do with one arm, even enhanced. The other woman appeared to be too weak, or too drugged, to stand on her own. She sobbed uncontrollably but clung tightly to Flame, even when Gator tried to remove her.