Murder Game

by Christine Feehan

  Kadan liked the plan. He controlled the situation, and he needed to feel in control when she was putting herself in danger. He nodded and settled himself next to her while she pulled on the gloves.

  Tansy took a breath, let it out, and laid her palm over Kadan's open hand where the ivory scorpion lay, tail poised to sting. Waves of rage poured over and into her, flooding her mind. Anger pulsed through her and with it the desire to strike back, hard and ugly. Hurt something. Someone. She had the impression of a woman cowering on the floor crying. A child in the doorway sobbing.

  His head hurt, the pressure unbearable. He didn't want to hurt them. Not them. What had he done again? He tried not to hear the sounds of their weeping. She would leave him this time. She should leave him. Next time he might kill her, and he never wanted it to be her. He needed to find the others, tell them he had to go next, take a turn out of order if necessary, or move his timetable forward. He couldn't hurt her ever again.

  The others understood him, the terrible voices that drove him. Maybe he would have been okay if he'd stayed in the military, but somehow he'd lost control of his temper. Every day, it just seemed to escalate until he couldn't stop rampaging. One wrong word and he had to pound something; if he didn't obey the voices, the pain in his head was unbearable. The satisfaction of feeling his fist slamming into flesh was becoming too short-lived. Now he needed to take it all the way when this happened. He had to find someone to pour his rage into--but not her. Never her.

  He gathered her into his arms, rocking her back and forth, trying to comfort her, trying to comfort himself. There was blood on his hands--her blood. He'd gone to three counselors, but nothing helped, certainly not the medicine they'd given him. If he touched her again, he was eating a bullet. He had to find a way to stop the rage that consumed him. His head hurt so bad, vises squeezing until he thought his head would explode. And the voices, whispering all the time, telling him he was nothing. And that one voice that never let up, not for a moment.

  Angela, I'm sorry. Take Tommy Jr. and go to your parents. Get the hell away from me until I figure out what's wrong. He needed to say it out loud. She probably feared leaving him. And he was afraid too. If she left and he got angry, there was no telling what he'd do. He wept silently, terrified for all of them, but the pain in his head was relentless, and he needed to find someone to pound until the hurting stopped . . .

  Tansy frowned. The faint whispers in his head held a familiar cadence. Was the puppet master actually taking part in driving this man to murder? He wasn't like the others she'd tracked. This man was ashamed and scared and filled with remorse. He was desperately fighting to keep from giving in to the madness. He had a wife and child. He didn't want to harm anyone, but he couldn't stop himself. The voice and the relentless pressure in his head caused terrible rages. Was the puppet master the voice?

  "Don't," Kadan cautioned. "Don't give him any more to track you with." He watched her eyes, the way he always did. She was moving further away from him, the violet completely taking over the blue and the silver encroaching on the violet, until her eyes shimmered with that strange opaque that signaled she was deep inside the tracking lane.

  Tansy didn't respond, didn't act as if she heard him. Her mind was completely focused now. He couldn't follow her, only read her thoughts, and she was on the thread of that voice. It was faint, the strand so thin, but razor-edge sharp, a bite cutting into the walls of Scorpion's mind, causing pain and enraging him with the relentless pressure. She stayed very quiet, letting her mind travel along the thread, careful not to disturb it until she found the second thread that led directly to her prey interlocking with the first.

  Impressions swamped her mind. A shed. Benches and tables with cutting tools. A man sitting, his hands busy shaping the perfect piece. A masterpiece, museum-quality really. Few could ever top his skills in carving. Each detail so precise. He peered at the specimens gathered around him. Drawings. The live one in the glass cage. The dead one pinned to the table. Scorpions of various sizes. He needed this one perfect. It took work and discipline, but he had never minded either, rather he valued the traits.

  This one had probably been a mistake, but he'd had no real choice at the time. Scorpion had maybe one to two more murders in him and then he'd probably kill himself. He didn't like making mistakes. He placed his tool on the table and moved it a couple of centimeters. Precise. Absolutely precise. Tansy drew in her breath sharply. The puppet master had OCD. His work shed was immaculate, every tool labeled and placed in an exact, designated spot. Nothing was out of place. Even the shavings were caught in a small container, so that not a speck was on the table or the floor of the shed.

  This was his private residence and she doubted if it was on base. She tried to look around to see anything that might identify where he was. The longer she stayed, the better the chance of alerting him, but she wanted to give Kadan something more to go on.

  She could make out windows, four panes darkened, but she could still see out. He must have been looking outside while he carved the ivory. He was humming off-key. And he was "pushing" at Scorpion, slashing at his mind with deliberate, painful strokes to provoke him. The man had no filters, and too much testosterone flooding his body, making him more aggressive than normal, his genetic altering deliberate.

  A mistake. He made another careful cut into the ivory. He had chosen Tommy because he was already aggressive. His psychic talents were already strong as well, but like the others, Tommy had failed his psychological profile, not, like the others, due to his violent tendencies, but Tommy had them, buried beneath the surface. He'd thought he could bring the aggressive tendencies out and manipulate Tommy as easily as he did the others. He'd been wrong. Wrong. He detested mistakes and never allowed them, yet Tommy was living proof. He should have listened to his instincts and waited just a little longer to find the right candidate.

  Tansy stroked a finger along the back of the scorpion, following the movements of the puppet master's fingers. Up the curved tail, feeling each groove. There was something there. A watch. A very distinctive watch.

  You're getting to be a nuisance. Or maybe you're just lonely. Are you lonely, Tansy? Tell me where you are. Talk to me. I tried to visit you, but no one was home. Are you going to be waiting for me?

  Tansy forced down fear and stayed still, breathing in and out, following the pattern of Kadan's breath. Kadan was there in her mind; she felt him, yet he didn't yank her out of the situation as he always had done. He waited with her, believing in her, and that gave her the confidence to carry out her plan. She wanted to keep the puppet master talking, hoping he would make a mistake while trying to draw her out.

  He believed himself stronger, a better tracker, but she didn't think so. He manipulated eight men, but he didn't track killers. She'd been doing it for years. His ego was going to be his downfall.

  I know you can hear me. Are you enjoying our little game as much as I am? I've found out quite a bit about you. Things you probably don't know about yourself. I have access to several very secret files. I'd share if you were interested.

  Deliberately she stirred, sending a vibration along the thread, somewhere between apprehension and curiosity, spinning her spider's web to catch herself a fly. The puppet master would want to talk. He'd never had the opportunity to show off before. This was his big chance. He couldn't let her live long, of course, but while she was alive, he could share his superiority. Someone would know.

  Tansy let him make the connection stronger, sending his energy back along the thread to find her. And with his energy came more information. She saw the box on the table, the bold, precise lettering. James R. Dunbar.

  Kadan opened his hand and dropped the scorpion. They had him.

  CHAPTER 19

  Kadan sat at a small booth in the bar, Jeff Hollister and Gator across from him. Nico had already staked out the high ground just in case they needed backup. Jeff was a California boy, born and bred for surf and fun, with his bleached blond hair, dark tan, and ri
pped body. He looked at home in the bar, a trendy place overlooking the crashing waves below. Directly behind Kadan sat his prey, drinking a cup of coffee and reading a newspaper.

  "You're always braggin'," Gator said aloud. "You're so full of shit. No one can hold their breath underwater that long, bro. Fifteen minutes, what a crock."

  Jeff hitched forward. "I heard of a guy, local legend around here, owns a scuba business. Rumor has it he can hold his breath easily that long."

  Kadan snorted loudly, derisively. "Talk about a braggart. I heard of that airbag. Talks himself up so people go to his business, but I could outlast him any day of the week. On my worst day that blowhole couldn't compare." He shoved himself away from the table, standing. "I'm going to start my own business and run his ass right outa this town."

  Jeff and Gator laughed at his joke and Kadan waved and sauntered off. Behind him, he heard a chair scrape and felt the other man following close. Kadan went out into the night and inhaled, dragging information into his lungs. Frog had taken the bait, if it was Frog, and Kadan was certain Flame and Lily had found their killer. He was ex-Special Forces, had applied for the psychic enhancement, supposedly been turned down, but had disappeared for special training for months. He'd resurfaced with a team and run some missions, but his team had a bad reputation for trouble. In the end, he had been discharged and now ran a scuba diving business for tourists.

  Kadan paused with his hand on the door of his SUV, to light a cigarette, something a diver wouldn't do.

  "Hey, man." Frog came up beside him. "I heard you inside, talking about free diving. I do a little of that. I like to go down without gear."

  Kadan grinned, a cocky smirk. "Gear's for wimps."

  "I've got a boat right on the dock," Frog persisted when Kadan turned away. "You want to go man-to-man and see who can hold their breath longer? Or are you scared?"

  Kadan allowed his face to darken and his eyes to smolder. "No one can beat me under the water. I'm a fucking fish."

  "I'm a shark. So let's do it."

  Kadan slammed his door shut and snapped away the cigarette he hadn't smoked. He didn't bother to look around; he could feel the GhostWalkers, his team, closing in to back him up. He went with the ex-SEAL, following him along the dock until they came to a high-powered boat. He stepped on without a qualm, showing off a little, that same cocky smirk on his face.

  "You really think you can beat me?" Kadan asked.

  In answer, Frog started the boat and took off over the waves to open water. They passed a small fishing boat just a few miles offshore and Frog killed the engine. Without a word he stripped off his shirt and tossed his shoes aside. He waited for Kadan to do the same before he started the boat again and began angling it back toward a small inlet.

  He slowed the boat considerably, weaving through the water as if going through a minefield. Kadan glanced into the water and his gut tightened. A small colony of the dead stared back at him. This was Frog's own private play-ground. Frog stopped the boat, reached into a cooler, and swung around.

  Kadan was on him before he could complete the turn, catching the wrist of the hand with the small needle protruding through his fingers. "What's wrong, Frogman? You have to drug me to beat me? I'm not one of your civilians who trust you."

  "Who are you?" Frog demanded.

  Kadan held him close. "The executioner." The knife concealed in his other hand came up, sweeping across Frog's throat, cutting deep. He shoved the body face-first into the sea, right over the top of the man's victims as they stared upward just inches from the surface of the water. Kadan wiped the knife clean, slipped it into the sheath, retrieved his shirt, and tied his shoes around his neck before going into the water. The fishing boat picked him up. Nico gave him a hand into the boat.

  "At least seven victims in the water. We need a cleaner in here fast," Kadan said.

  "I already radioed them," Nico answered.

  "One down," Kadan announced.

  Kadan lifted binoculars to his eyes and stared down at the woman walking out of the bar, her legs showing to their best advantage in a short tight skirt and high heels. She had a sway that said she was on the prowl and a body that promised heaven. Her husband, Ken Norton, stood a foot away from him, a scowl on his scarred face as he watched his wife open the door to a sleek little low-slung car.

  "He took the bait," a voice droned into the radio.

  That would be Jack, Ken's twin brother. Both men were GhostWalkers from the SEAL team and lethal with or without a weapon. Both were protective and possessive, and Kadan couldn't believe his ears when Ken announced that his wife, Marigold, was going to lure the Italian Stallion out into the open for them.

  A very handsome man, large and well muscled, followed Mari from the bar, gliding across the parking lot fast, coming up on her from behind. He grabbed her arm and swung her around, slamming her against the car door, shoving his knee between her legs. "You bitch, you can't embarrass me like that and just walk away. You were flirting with me. You're nothing but a rich bitch cocktease."

  Kadan felt the sudden tension in all the men. Ken's face hardened, but he didn't break cover. The rifle went to his shoulder in a smooth, practiced motion, and Ken never missed.

  Marigold leaned back against the car and smiled lazily up at the Stallion, one hand barely lifting off the top of the vehicle to signal the GhostWalkers to stand down. It was too public. There were others in the parking lot.

  "Hey, lady, you all right?" That was Ian. He looked imposing, carrying himself like a man who knew how to fight and didn't mind doing it. He began walking toward them.

  "Mind your own business," Stallion snapped, but he stepped back enough to allow Marigold to yank open her door. She fumbled with the keys, dropping her purse, then slammed the car door and roared away.

  The Stallion picked up her purse, flipped Ian off, and unhurriedly sauntered to his car, whistling. He got in and sat for a moment, looking through Mari's purse. "Yeah, rich bitch, you're going to get a visit from a real man tonight." The bug in her purse picked up audio with no problem. He drove out of the parking lot whistling.

  "Pull back," Jack said. "Team Two, he's heading your way."

  Kadan was already in the SUV, Ken and Jack leaping in from either side.

  "I'm taking that ass out," Mari hissed into her radio.

  "You walk away," Ken instructed, his voice pitched low and firm. "Put the car in the garage just as we planned and walk away. We'll do the rest."

  "He rammed his knee in my crotch," Mari bit out between clenched teeth. "He rapes women and then he kills them. I read Flame's report on this guy. I'm--"

  "You're going to follow the plan," Ken snapped. "This is a mission and we run it by the numbers, we don't make it personal. Walk away."

  There was an edge of a threat to his voice now, and Kadan rather admired it. He might have to use that particular tone for his own woman.

  Mari muttered something under her breath and Ken shot his twin a small grin. They followed Mari's car out to the edge of the city. The house had been well scouted, far back from other houses, where no one would hear or see anything. A perfect place for Stallion to spend the night tormenting a woman. He would come calling and he would feel safe.

  "I'll take this one," Ken said as they watched Mari walk away from the garage and into the trees where Nico waited for her with her rifle.

  Kadan shook his head. "I can shield. We don't want him warned. It really doesn't matter who kills the son of bitch as long as he's exterminated. I'll take him down."

  "That son of bitch put his fucking knee in my wife's crotch. I'll cut his heart out."

  "We stick with the plan. I don't blame you," Kadan said. "I'd feel the same way, but we stick with the plan."

  Jack nudged Ken. "I'm telling that little hellcat you married that you were going to deviate from the plan and make it personal."

  "You keep getting me in trouble with her, and one of these days you're going to wake up with your throat cut," Ken said.

>   Kadan slipped out of the car shaking his head. He wasn't the only one with woman problems. He waited in the bedroom where both Mari and Ken wanted to be. There was no moon, and he put on soft light in the living room and a night-light in the bedroom as a tempting beacon. As a further lure, he added music, not too loud, but loud enough that if Stallion came calling, he would think Mari wouldn't hear him as he entered.

  "He didn't wait long," Jack said. "He's driving up without lights, heading around to the back of the house."

  "I've got him," Nico intoned.

  "In my sights," Mari reported.

  Kadan waited in silence, the familiar calm taking him. He welcomed the ice that set him apart. No nerves. Much easier than facing Tansy tracking the killers. He preferred this way. Quick, clean. It was done.

  Noises indicated Stallion had entered through a window down the hall and was padding toward the bedroom. Kadan stepped to the side of the door. The knob turned and the door creaked as the intruder pushed it open and stepped into the room. He didn't notice the tarp on the floor, he was too intent on the sleeping form in the bed.

  "Hey, bitch. I got your invitation and came to party," Stallion announced, taking a step toward the bed and the rolled up blankets.

  Kadan came in behind him, a shadow only, his hand flashing with a quick, deep slice, and Stallion staggered, tried to turn, gurgled and dropped to his knees, then face planted. Kadan stood still waiting. It took a few minutes before the pulse was gone. "It's done. We need the cleaner." There could be no discovery before their schedule was complete. He wiped his blade clean and walked out to join the others.

  "Two down," Kadan said.

  "There is no way he's going to fall for this," Gator said. "The man would have to be an idiot. Come on, Kadan. We need another plan."

  "If necessary we'll go into his house and slit his throat, but get your Cajun ass out there and tie yourself up."

  "Why do I have to do this?" Gator demanded.