Phantom in the Night

by Sherrilyn Kenyon

  Nathan stepped out. "Miss me?"

  Zink yanked around, weapon arm following as smoothly as a dancer's move. But Red Beard had shared his toys. Nathan swung the M-16 like a bat, ramming Zink's head.

  Just when things looked promising, the rear door slammed open. He sighed. That meant at least one more to deal with. The guys hauling the shipment must have called in reinforcement.

  Nathan angled for cover. Zink was still out cold, but in plain view. That wouldn't be so bad if he hadn't fallen on his weapon. No way to get it from him without drawing attention. Nathan lifted his hood back in place and blended into the shadows.

  Until he knew who had entered, he wasn't showing his face any more than he had to.

  He expected to see bullets fly any minute, but all he heard were footsteps and a high-pitched curse. Female.

  "Might as well come out, Drake," a male voice called out from between him and the door. "I'm tired of you shaking down my people. I paid you too well to turn on me this way. Good thing I was already headed here when I got a call from my men or I might have missed you… and this little gem."

  Nathan had heard that voice once before. Back during …

  Anton Marseaux stepped into view.

  With Terri.

  The bottom fell out of Nathan's stomach. Marseaux had her with his arm around her throat and a hand cupping her mouth. His other hand pointed a Walther PPK at her head. The color had washed out of Terri's face and it wasn't because of the massive overhead lights.

  "Drop the purse." Marseaux had paused next to a crate. Terri undipped the strap of her shoulder bag and tossed it on the wooden box.

  Marseaux moved three steps away until his back was to a wall. "Come out, Drake. Or I'll kill her."

  Nathan stood. "She's not involved in this."

  "Really? Could have fooled me by the way she'd reached this building. Don't blow smoke up my ass and tell me the woods are on fire. She wouldn't have made it past two of my cameras undetected without being trained. I'm figuring she's the DEA bitch you've been spilling your guts to."

  "What do you want?"

  "Your weapons, for starters."

  Nathan walked past Zink's prone body and laid the M-16 upon a crate on his left, then placed his handgun beside it.

  "Move forward."

  Nathan took several steps.

  Marseaux said, "That's enough."

  More than enough to see Terri's eyes, which should have been rounded in fear, but God love her, the woman was spittin' mad.

  Of course, after hearing that comment about working for Marseaux, she might be just as mad at both of them. "Let her go."

  "Why should I?"

  "You want me. Let's trade."

  Terri's eyes widened, then changed from anger to fear. For him? Nathan didn't deserve her concern. He'd gotten her deeper into this than she should have been.

  "Way I see it, I get you both," Marseaux quipped.

  "Let her go and I'll tell you who ratted out your shipment."

  That got Marseaux's full attention. "Tell me now unless you want to watch her brains sprayed across the floor."

  Nathan shook his head. "Let her go first." He held his hands up, showing he had no weapon.

  A gun cocked behind Nathan. Ah, hell, Zink was back up on his feet and had the .357.

  "I got your back, boss," Zink called.

  "Okay, I'll trade." Marseaux flashed a smile of victory and released his hold on Terri.

  Nathan moved forward, within twenty feet of Marseaux, who pushed Terri to move.

  She stumbled.

  Nathan had to clench his fists to keep from reaching for her or they'd both wind up full of holes. She took another step and started to speak, but rapid shots blew out the overhead lights.

  Nathan dove forward to grab her and came up empty. Praying she'd found cover, he rolled to his right as more bullets snapped all around them.

  A third shooter had entered the fray, but that didn't mean he was a friendly. Could be NOPD or an enemy of Marseaux's.

  The place was stark black, except for where the outside lights shined in past the open loading dock.

  What Nathan wouldn't give for his night-vision monocular right now. He silently worked his way back to where he'd left the M-16.

  More scuffling noises reached his ears from two spots, but not a third. Marseaux and Zink most likely. Neither had shown any covert ability.

  Where was Hooknose? Ambient light dusted over a blob near the rear exit door that had stopped moving. Nathan doubted Hooknose had been hit. More likely he was waiting to see the winner of this.

  Nathan inched his hand up to where he could hook the rifle with a finger and start slowly moving it to the edge above his head.

  Something clicked and six security lights beamed on.

  He yanked the weapon down into his arms.

  Someone shot the two overhead lights closest to the entrance door. The new shooter.

  Two more explosive shots rang out close, which sounded like the SIG Nathan had seen in Terri's purse. He had her position.

  Zink jumped up and pumped a round down the aisle toward the door. The unknown shooter nailed Zink with one shot between his eyes. Nathan estimated the unidentified shooter's position at a new spot seventy feet away from his last location.

  Trained marksman.

  Three quick steps pounded toward the rear exit door next to the loading dock. Nathan turned in time to see the back of Marseaux as he leaped over Hooknoses body and fled out the door that slammed shut with deafening finality.

  His pulse thumped hard. One shooter left.

  Terri was between the two of them, but she was trained and armed.

  He was stuck in a bad spot that would be hard to defend. Not enough boxes to hide behind and he couldn't risk moving to another position. The long pathway on each side of where he huddled ran straight toward the shooters last position.

  He hoped for law enforcement. Wouldn't be good for him, but at least Terri would walk out of here safe.

  It was going to come down to who had more firepower and Nathan was sure he'd lose that match.

  "Don't shoot," called out from down the aisle, closer this time.

  Huh? Nathan cocked his head, confused. Like he would hold his fire because the enemy said so? "Give me one reason not to," he yelled back.

  The shooter pitched something small that skated along the slick concrete floor down the aisle.

  Nathan prepared to dive toward Terri to shield her if the object had been a hand grenade, but the piece of metal was too small to be that. When it stopped sliding, he stared down at an Army Ranger challenge coin… with a dent.

  Nathan looked up to see Stoner walking between two rows of shelves toward him.

  "What the hell?" Nathan stepped from his cover.

  Stoner cleared the end of the shelves. He flipped up his monocular and grinned, extending a hand to shake with Nathan.

  "Freeze or I'll shoot."

  Nathan swung his head to find Terri in a three-point stance, her 9 mm pointed at Stoner, who hadn't moved a muscle upon her command.

  "He's not the enemy, Terri," Nathan told her calmly.

  "I don't know that."

  "I do." Nathan checked Stoner, whose gaze was still locked on her weapon, then he glanced back at Terri. "Listen—"

  "Sorry, but there's only so far I'll take this alliance we've developed. I don't even know who you are, but Marseaux does. You didn't deny working for him."

  Nathan couldn't fault her. "I'll explain, just don't shoot. Put your gun down and let's talk."

  Her eyes rounded, then narrowed. "I don't trust you not to trick me."

  "Smart woman," Stoner murmured.

  Nathan growled at him. "You're not helping."

  Stoner shrugged nonchalantly. "Thought you were glad to see me."

  Terri huffed impatiently. "Cut it out, you two."

  Nathan took a gamble and laid down his weapon, then moved toward Terri. Her SIG swung a couple inches horizontally to point dir
ectly at him. He kept moving.

  "Don't." She uttered the warning. Her trigger finger moved a fraction.

  "I'm not going to trick you."

  Terri wasn't sure she could believe this mystery man so easily anymore. She gripped her weapon rightly, prepared to use it if he didn't stop moving forward. "Freeze!" Her heart beat so hard she couldn't take a breath. Didn't he believe her?

  When he ceased moving, she shifted her weight onto her stronger leg, preparing for an attack. She'd been such a fool to worry about him when he was one of Marseaux's people. Granted, he had not harmed her, but she didn't trust anyone not to trick her. Not after a felon had sent her into an ambush.

  The tall black guy wore a single night-vision headpiece and hadn't budged since seeing her weapon. Tall? How about as big as a bear and an expert with that wicked-looking rifle hanging from the front of his vest.

  "Terri?"

  Her gaze bounced to the man inside the hooded jacket, but she kept the black guy in her peripheral vision since the men were only about six feet apart and obviously familiar with each other. "What?"

  "I have never hurt you and I have no intention of starting. You believe that, don't you?" he asked in a patient tone. She'd used the same let's-be-calm technique many times in dealing with a threat.

  But she couldn't lie since they both knew he'd saved her butt more than once and had never harmed her. "Yes."

  "Then trust me not to trick you."

  Trust him. Was he serious? She'd already given him more trust than he deserved. If anyone with BAD, the NOPD, or the DEA found out how much time she'd spent with a man who was clearly avoiding the law and involved in this investigation she'd be toasted on a skewer.

  He took another step, carefully holding his arms at his side. She could tell he weighed each move before making one.

  Her palms dampened. She didn't want to shoot him, but if he gave her no choice she would. Rule of the streets—he who hesitates loses. The night Conroy died, a movement behind Terri had caught his eye right before she was struck, but he'd hesitated. Why? Had he known the attacker?

  The stranger in the hooded jacket moved forward.

  She swallowed and tightened her finger against the trigger.

  Then he reached for his hood and lifted.

  No other motion could have held her mesmerized the way that simple gesture did.

  His face slowly emerged as he moved another step. Gray-blue eyes held her gaze, refusing to let go. The soft material slid back, inch by inch. A familiar straight nose and slash of cheeks came into view.

  Terri's lips parted. Her throat dried.

  When the hood dropped to his shoulders, his face was completely exposed, right down to chiseled lips that could have been shaped by a master sculptor.

  Nathan Drake, in the flesh.

  * * *

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  "You're Nathan Drake." Terri stared at the face that should have had a bullet hole in the middle of its smooth forehead.

  "Yes. Don't shoot me." He gave her a smile meant to lower her defenses. Worked pretty good.

  What would be the point in shooting him if a bullet in the head hadn't killed him?

  That thought was almost laughable.

  Terri lowered her gun. "How can you be alive?" There had to be an explanation. She'd only jokingly thought of him as a phantom.

  "It's a complicated story. I can think of better places to discuss it than here."

  She looked around, coming to her senses.

  Grunting in the corner drew her attention. Nathan stepped around, putting himself between her and the sound.

  "What are you going to do about him?"

  Terri jumped at the deep voice that boomed behind her. She scooted next to Nathan, then realized what she'd done and backed away from both men.

  Nathan turned around, scowling. "You scared her."

  "No, he didn't," Terri lied, embarrassed. "Who is he?"

  "Terri Mitchell, meet Vic Stoner." Nathan added, "A good friend."

  "Your only friend," Stoner muttered, then offered his hand to Terri. "Nice to meet you, ma'am."

  Terri stared at the huge hand while this Stoner patiently waited on her to decide if he was friend or foe. She finally placed her hand in his. He could have crushed every bone, but he was careful when he gave her a firm shake.

  A banging noise had Nathan scowling again. "I've got to do something with Hooknose." He paced off toward the exit door. Terri followed several steps behind until she saw the body trussed up on the floor squirming in place.

  Dropping into a squat, Nathan said something in a low terse voice. Hooknose nodded vigorously. Nathan produced a switchblade and cut through the guy's bindings in two slashes. Hooknose was up and out the door with the speed of a roach being chased with a pesticide.

  Nathan strolled back to her, eyes searching in every direction, alert.

  "What did you tell Hooknose?" Terri retrieved her purse and tucked her weapon inside, then latched the strap in place.

  "That if I were him I'd find a hole to hide in for a long time. And if I heard he said a word about tonight to anyone, I'd find him in his sleep and… well, he understands it wouldn't be pleasant." Nathan cut a questioning gaze at Stoner." What are you doing here?"

  Stoner's eyes shifted, taking in everything around him. "Like you said, bro, better places than this to talk."

  "True," Nathan gave the warehouse a last glance, then used hand movements to communicate with Stoner, who nodded as if they'd discussed an exit plan.

  Everything about these two indicated covert training.

  She'd save her questions for later. Nathan put his hand out for her. Terri ignored the gesture and nodded toward the entrance—a silent order to lead and she'd follow.

  His eyes grim, he dropped his hand and strode down the aisle. She took a breath, glad to have survived, and kept pace in spite of her aching leg, which diving for cover hadn't helped. Outside, the men moved in tandem, Nathan taking the lead and Stoner following as they covered ground.

  In fact, the men moved as a unit.

  These two had worked together this way before, but where and when?

  * * *

  "I had no problem getting into the container, but there were only eight vials. Should have been a total of ten." Duff placed the foam-lined case that had slots for ten vials on the polished mahogany desk. His hand trembled when he pulled his fingers back.

  Fra Bacchus used a bony finger to press a button on his desk phone. "Linette, please come in."

  The door opened and the Fra's knockout assistant came in as silent as a prayer. Legs a mile long and a body Duff had imagined naked many a night aboard his boat. If only she'd been born a blonde.

  "Take this to the infirmary." Fra Bacchus handed her the case.

  When she turned to leave, Duff noted how the Fra's wrinkled gaze followed the sway of Linette's hips. Was the old bastard doing her? Duff could do without that visual. The sad slant of her eyes hid secrets and pain he didn't want to know about, either. Get used to it. Everyone had a cross to bear.

  Linette shut the door quietly, just like everything else she did.

  "I can't hide my disappointment, Duff," Fra Bacchus began. His arms were crossed, wrapped inside the long sleeves of his robe. The Fra liked that monk-looking garb in private, but outside these walls he wore custom suits made by Italian tailors. Clothes better suited to his public persona of an international investor and rare wine connoisseur.

  Duff had thought long and hard on this before coming in. He knew better than to show up short two vials with no plan for retrieving them. "Someone got into the container and took the other two, but if they knew what they had, why not take all ten? I think whoever stole the teak tools has no idea what they got. If we could get our hands on the list of everyone who's been in that container, I could find those vials in no time."

  "True, but acquiring that list may take too long and interrogating everyone would draw unnecessary attention."

  Thanks for no hel
p. Duff clenched his clammy hands. He worked to keep calm, not to give away his nervousness. "I still have a day to get the other two vials. I'll have them."

  "How?" Fra Bacchus uttered that one word with the force of a sharp cleaver slicing a head. No question whose head the Fra wanted to sever right now.

  "I have resources I can tap to find out who's been inside the container." Not exactly the truth, but Duff wanted to appease the Fra until he located the other two vials or he'd end up with a dirt nap. "Don't worry, I'll be discreet."

  "You're to deliver the first pair of vials today," Fra Bacchus snapped. "That doesn't leave much time to search for the missing ones."

  Duff glanced at his watch. Just after three in the morning. "I thought you planned to test the virus first. Make sure the product works as quickly as we've been told. Who do you plan to use for the test?"

  "Our guests."

  The prisoners Duff had been ordered to bring in rather than take lives. No unnecessary deaths. The Fra sure liked that word "unnecessary." Guess one unlucky bastard just became a necessary guinea pig.

  "The test should be ready. You can observe." The Fra pressed a button on the phone again. "I'm ready for you to serve our guest." He released the button and stared hard at Duff. "I want you to understand how potent this virus is and the danger of it falling into the wrong hands."

  Duff opened his mouth to argue that he fully understood those elements.

  "Don't. Speak." The Fra raised a remote and pointed it at the wall behind Duff, who turned to watch.

  The wall separated to reveal a flat-screen plasma monitor that flashed to life, transmitting the image of a room with one small table next to the door and a single bed. A man wearing only boxer shorts lay prone on the bed, his shoulder bandaged. The other arm was draped across his face. His chest rose and fell with slow breaths. The sheets and his briefs were soaked with sweat that ran off his body in streams.

  A second man was tied to a chair with ropes. He was slumped forward in the same state—clothed in boxer shorts only and perspiring profusely. His head had dropped until his chin hit his chest.

  Duff couldn't see the face of the patient on the bed at this camera angle, but the bandage had him guessing. He'd shot a cop last night before he'd brought him to the Fra's lab.