Predatory Game (GhostWalkers, #6)(83)
“Shh. You have to be quiet. Jesse can take care of himself.” Saber sent up a quick prayer that he could, wheelchair and all. He often looked as if he could, and he certainly had psychic gifts, ones that were a little scary when she thought about it. “In any case, it’s too late. If we went back now, he’d think we were the enemy. Right now, all he’s thinking is that anyone coming at him is out to harm us. That’s his advantage—he won’t have to think about anything beyond pulling the trigger.” While she talked, she kept tugging at Patsy’s hand, keeping her moving away from the basement and toward what she hoped was the wooded area at the side of the house.
They were forced to go to hands and knees to continue moving. Saber was used to closed-in places, but Patsy began to shake even more. She pressed her fingers to her mouth, trying to suppress the constant weeping. “I’m so afraid. And I hurt. There’s so much pain.”
“I know,” Saber murmured, shifting her gaze back toward Jess, wishing she could be in two places at one time. “We’ll get you to a hospital, but we have to keep moving, Patsy. I’m sorry. I know it hurts, but we don’t have a choice.”
They were near the screened vent. Saber could see it was much lighter outside. Dawn had crept in, pushing away the night and all cover. She stilled Patsy with a hand to her shoulder, cautioning her to stay quiet and not move. Saber carefully removed the screen and set it aside, all the while listening, trying to pick up any sign of their enemy. When it appeared quiet outside, she signaled Patsy to remain still and she slithered out on her belly, making herself small, cloaking her body as best she could so that she faded somewhat into her surroundings.
Thunder crashed in the distance and the rain fell in a steady downpour, soaking her instantly. She crawled through the flower bed, staying low to the ground as she moved out into the open ground. Once out from the shadow of the house, she spotted a guard near the back porch. He had one foot on the stairs and the other planted on a small shrub as he cradled his gun and peered into the house.
Saber sighed. She could have made it to the woods and safety if she’d been alone, but no way with Patsy. She had no choice but to take him out. Steeling herself for another psychic blast of violent energy, she began to scoot across the ground in plain sight, inch by inch, moving toward her prey.
His radio crackled, jerking him to attention. Suddenly he turned and sprinted right toward her. Saber held her breath and waited. A foot came down inches from her head, another barely missed her hand. Then he was over the top of her and running for the back door. She heard his footsteps pounding up the stairs and the back door slamming.
Jesse. They’d found Jesse. Shaking, she lay there, her face buried in the crook of her arm, her heart thundering right along with the weather. She tasted fear in her mouth. It didn’t matter that she’d told herself he was lethal—he was in a wheelchair. What could he possibly do against anyone? He was trapped in the basement. Alone. Vulnerable. And she’d just left him. What had she been thinking?
Saber pushed up off the ground and ran back to get Patsy. Her vision blurred, but whether it was from the rain or tears, she couldn’t be certain.
Jess sat in silence, breathing deep, trying to keep rage from exploding. Patsy—tortured because of him. Saber—suffering because of him. Damn whoever was behind this, because he simply wasn’t going to stand for it. Let them come. He prayed for them to come. He was a spiritual man, and if he was condemned to hell for what he was about to do, so be it. He’d go and gladly, because this was unacceptable to him.
“Come on.” He whispered the words softly. Come on. Whispered the words in his mind, sent them out into the universe to urge his enemies to find him. As if in answer, the door to the basement was flung open.
Come on, you bastard. Walk on in. Let’s do it.
He stayed very still, watching as the man crept down the stairs, gun in his hand, his gaze sweeping left to right as he quartered the basement. As he descended, the light from above faded and the man reached for the flashlight at his belt. Jess threw the knife he had strapped to his leg, as accurate as always, so that the man fell hard, gun clattering and head thumping as he slid the rest of the way down the stairs.
Jess pushed the chair close enough to check his pulse. Finding him dead, he snagged the man’s arm and began to drag the body away from the bottom of the stairs. It wasn’t easy maneuvering his chair while trying to keep hold of the body, but he needed it out of sight fast. The open door, silence, and the smell of blood would lure the others in. As long as they wanted him alive, he had a chance—more than a chance. He’d kill them all, because no matter what else happened, he wasn’t going to let them get their hands on the women.
After retrieving the dead man’s gun, he parked the wheelchair in the alcove where the heater was located and placed the gun on a shelf facing the stairs. He slipped from his chair and lifted the dead man into it. For the first time in a long while, he was thankful he was physically enhanced. As much as he worked out, he doubted he would have been strong enough to put a fully grown man into his wheelchair from the floor, but with the strength Whitney had given him, he easily lifted the body. He’d already picked out the safest place in the room, the darkest spot with the most cover.
He’d baited the trap, now he had to wait until they took it. The devil liked to make a man sweat, sending him images of Saber and Patsy in the hands of madmen. They were dead just for what they’d done to Patsy. He’d hunt them down one by one if he had to. And Saber…She’d suffered for him. He wasn’t going to forget that look in her eyes when she’d known she was going to have to kill again.