Street Game (GhostWalkers, #8)(102)

He frowned. Opened his mouth. Closed it. “Damn it, Jaimie.” His fingers tightened on her shoulders and he pressed his forehead tight against hers. “Just damn it.”

“That’s what you always say when you know I’m right.” She brought her hands up to his chest. “I’m good at what I do, just as you are. I’ve never asked you to stop, Mack. I wanted you to open your eyes and see what Whitney was. It was too late to undo what he did to us, so okay, we have to live with it, but we don’t have to close our eyes to what he is or what he’s capable of doing. I promise I’ll be careful and I’ll keep you informed every single step of the way.”

“Who did you send your backup to?”

“Another GhostWalker, a woman good with computers. I ran into her hacking the CIA computer.”

“You can’t hack their program.”

“I can if I wrote it. She couldn’t. She was looking for the same thing I was. We’ve been sharing information”—she held up her hand—“and before you lose your mind, I’m careful.”

“Did it occur to you she might be a plant?”

“She was more worried about me than I was about her,” Jaimie said. “I hacked into her computer and found all her files. We established an uneasy truce and I sent her several things she didn’t have on Whitney. She doesn’t know who I am. I know her identity, though. She’s married to a GhostWalker. She was an orphan Whitney experimented on. He gave her cancer more than once.”

“You have to go, Mack,” Kane called over the intercom.

Mack sighed. “Give me a few more minutes, Kane. I’m gathering intel.” He began pulling on his clothes. “Get dressed, baby. And don’t leave this place while I’m gone. Stick close to the boys.” He leaned down to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “I’m going to take out Thornton and any threat to Kane, Brian, and Sergeant Major.”

“Just be careful,” she cautioned.

“My middle name.”





CHAPTER 17


Gideon eased the ache in his leg with the smallest of stretches. “No movement yet, boss, he’s still in there sitting by his fireplace with a drink as if he has all the time in the world.”

Mack glanced at his watch. The lights in Jefferson’s house had been on for hours. He wasn’t retiring anytime soon. He seemed to be waiting for someone—or something. There was no way he could possibly know he was a target. The three had slipped from the warehouse unseen and boarded a military flight. Tucked in the trees, they’d already spent enough hours to be getting cramps, waiting for Jefferson to go to bed.

“Well, he doesn’t have all the time in the world, Gideon, and you’re right, he’s waiting for someone.”

The tree they’d set up in was enormous. The great sprawling branches were thick, and they dipped and twisted, giving them a tremendous platform to work from. Phillip Thornton’s house had been modest, in a quiet neighborhood at the end of a cul-de-sac. As James Bradley Jefferson the third, the man had treated himself to a home he felt he deserved. The long drive led to a two-story brick estate. Tall pillars rose around the wide verandah, a proud Southern home, surrounded by shrubbery and rolling lawns. The property was nestled in thick trees, an old growth of evergreens, one of the few stands left in the area. The terrain lent the estate a natural seclusion.

“Any phone calls?”

“One, boss, from Senator Romney. But he’s definitely waiting for someone. He’s checked his watch at least three times. The directional mike is working perfectly. If he does have a visitor, we’ll be able to hear every word.”

“I want it recorded,” Mack said. “We need everything we can get on him. And no evidence left behind. Not so much as a scrape on a tree. When we take him down, no matter how natural his death appears, there will be an investigation.”

“He the one after Kane and Brian?” Javier asked, bringing his travel mug to his mouth. The hot coffee warmed his insides. There was malice in his voice.

“Jefferson has a hard-on for both of them,” Mack said. “Sergeant Major turned his report over to General Chilton and I’m guessing Chilton turned it over to Jefferson. Either way, all the evidence they gathered is now destroyed. And Jefferson sent those killers after Jaimie.”

Gideon and Javier exchanged a long, knowing look.

“We know he’s working at Langley, we’ve watched him come and go,” Javier said. “I could have taken out the bastard a hundred times already.”

Mack shook his head. “It has to be a natural death or an accident no one can dispute. If I can get close enough to him, I can kill him and everyone will think he’s had a heart attack.”

Again Gideon and Javier exchanged a long look. Mack almost never mentioned his psychic abilities. His was a rare talent. Mack always played things close to his chest and when he’d filled out the forms, he had never revealed his ability to manipulate electrical energy. They’d heard the rumor that one of the GhostWalkers’ wives from Team Two could do the same, but they’d never met her and the rumor wasn’t confirmed. Mack’s talent made him invaluable to the team and the fact that no one, not even Whitney, knew he had the ability, made him the perfect assassin.

Getting up close to Jefferson was another matter. He’d proved to be very cautious. Years with the agency and working with Whitney had made him wary of everyone. He changed his route at a moment’s notice. Few knew his schedule ahead of time. It was impossible to know which car he would be using. When a car was summoned, it was gone over meticulously for bombs. He had to be taken in his home.