Lethal Game

by Christine Feehan

  GhostWalkers were different. Experiments. Already, they had a few enemies in the White House, men and women who believed they were too dangerous to allow them to live. There were four teams of GhostWalkers. The first team had problems with brain bleeds and other major issues, but they still went out and did the work deemed necessary for their country.

  All of them had gone through rigorous special forces training and then some. The first team had joined with the second squad out in the wilds of Montana and were building a fortress there to protect their families. Team three was in San Francisco, putting together their stronghold, and his team was in Louisiana doing the same.

  “Never thought I’d be sitting in a place like this, talking to a woman like you,” Malichai said. He picked up the burger she’d carefully cut in half and took a bite.

  “Like me?”

  “So damn beautiful I can barely breathe.” He couldn’t believe the words in his brain came out of his mouth. “Clearly I can’t censor either.”

  She looked pleased and a little embarrassed. “Thank you, that’s a very sweet thing to say.”

  He winced. “Don’t do that ‘sweet’ thing. Women start viewing a man as sweet and he has zero chance with her.”

  “Zero chance?” she echoed. “Barring sweet, you’d like a chance with me?”

  “That’s right.” He finished off the burger. “Thanks for sharing.”

  “You’re never going to be able to eat dinner, and the lasagna is so good. It’s one of the house specialties.”

  “I’ll eat it. Nonny always says I have a hole in my leg and the food falls out. My woman is going to have a very difficult time keeping up with my appetites.” He grinned at her.

  Amaryllis shook her head. “You’re awful.”

  “But now you’re so much more interested. I can tell.”

  She laughed, just as he knew she would. “You’re awful,” she repeated, “and we should get going. Are you taking those fries?”

  “No, the birds can have them.” He indicated the gulls that walked on the sand and the wooden patio waiting for them to leave. “I want the lasagna, remember?”

  Malichai stood when she did and held out his hand to her. She took it without hesitation, which pleased him. She started toward the stairs that led to the beach, the same direction the couple from the bed-and-breakfast had taken. As they walked back toward the B and B, he moved closer to her and drew her hand to his chest, pressing her palm against his heart for a moment.

  He felt her look, but he kept walking, observing around him, not her. It felt right just walking with her. Being with her. That was a new experience for him as well. It was the simplest thing, just strolling together, neither feeling the need to break their silence. They got all the way to the bed-and-breakfast before she stopped and pulled her hand from his.

  “What is it, honey?” He slid his fingers around the nape of her neck, but his thumb dared to slide over her exquisite cheekbone.

  “I just want you to know, I like your sweet.”

  She leaned into him and pressed a kiss to his jaw, just a brief touch of her lips against that inevitable shadow that darkened the lower half of his face. His heart felt as though it had stopped in his chest while his entire body absorbed the feel of those lips on his skin. That fast, she turned away from him and was gone down the hall, disappearing into the part of the house that was off-limits to guests. He stared after her for a longer time than necessary and was grateful none of his fellow GhostWalkers were around. They would never have allowed him to hear the end of it.

  Malichai headed to his room. This time he met two men coming out of their room. They were new at the B and B, arrivals sometime that day. He took his phone out of his pocket on the pretense of reading text messages. It wasn’t like he didn’t have plenty to read. Mostly they were from his brothers telling him he was going to get a beating if he didn’t answer soon. They wanted to know if he was all right.

  Instead of answering, he snapped several pictures discreetly, as he’d done for every visitor he’d run into. It was a necessary evil. He’d even turned in Amaryllis’s picture without saying a word about what he suspected at times—that she was physically and psychically enhanced, just as he was. If she really was, that meant Whitney had sent her on a mission, or she had escaped his compound and was on the run.

  She didn’t appear to be on the run and she had been working over a year at the bed-and-breakfast. That long ago, he’d never even considered a vacation in sunny California. It didn’t make sense that there was some big conspiracy involving him.

  He noted that the two newcomers watched him as he came down the hall to his room. They parted, forcing him to walk between them, and still stared at him as he closed the door. He supposed some men might find him intimidating. Although, more likely, they were sent to kill him. That was definitely more in his wheelhouse. Great, now he was getting paranoid about all the other guests.

  At least none of them were flirting too much with Amaryllis. That would get under his skin, and he wasn’t a good enough man for others to give him that kind of itch that could only be scratched the bayou way. He wasn’t a jealous man, so feeling that way—a little murderous and ready to fight—was another new experience for him.

  He lay down on the bed and eased his leg up. Stretching it out hurt, but taking his weight off it definitely felt better than walking around on it. His thigh protested, as did his hip and calf. GhostWalkers healed faster than normal, and although he seemed to be fairly healed on the outside, the leg just didn’t want to get back to normal. He was swimming the way he was supposed to, but that was the only time his leg felt halfway decent.

  Rubin, a psychic surgeon, had healed it from the inside out. Joe, a psychic healer, had worked on him numerous times. An orthopedic surgeon had performed a miraculous surgery on him. He’d gone through physical therapy. He’d always healed very fast, and with his enhancements, his ability to do so had more than tripled.

  The physical therapist had told him no strenuous workouts. He was expected to walk on the injured leg, but not push it—to stop when the pain level rose and to keep those walks short, no running—which was a joke for a man like him. They wanted him swimming in the ocean every day. He was an excellent swimmer—a bullet in the water—and they thought that would help to strengthen the leg without the weight of his body on it. Walking in the sand every day was supposed to help. With all the therapy, psychic healing and surgeries, his leg should have been in excellent condition, but it hurt like hell.

  Lying on a bed with an aching leg made him feel like a whiner. He was used to action and without Amaryllis to distract him, he felt a little like he was going out of his mind. Amaryllis, his little puzzle. His mind turned back to her eagerly. He wanted to remember every detail, especially the way her face lit up when she laughed.

  She had moved through the sand easily, he would have to say fluidly, like water flowing across the surface, not at all bogged down by the granules of sand. GhostWalkers sensed one another. Most of the time they recognized one another just by the energy fields projected around them. If she was a GhostWalker, one of her talents had to be to shield herself, and that talent was rare.

  Suppose she was one of Whitney’s experiments. He’d have to conclude that he’d stumbled across one of the women who had escaped from one of the many compounds scattered throughout the world and that she’d successfully managed to stay under Whitney’s radar. If that was true, she would view him as a threat, not someone she found “sweet.”

  He sighed. He wasn’t good at the woman thing, but he wanted to be. He was already missing her. Already eager to see her again. He was very glad the dishwasher needed a part that had to be sent away for. It was extra work for Amaryllis, but it meant, as the resident dishwasher, he got to spend time with her.

  His phone kept pinging, annoying him to no end. He pulled it out of his pocket and glared at the screen.
Ezekiel was blowing his phone up, now using numerous profanities, demanding his response. The last message said he would be using Trap’s plane to come and find him. Shit. That wasn’t good, and Zeke would really do it too.

  “It’s about damn time,” his oldest brother greeted him.

  “What’s the problem?”

  “You disappeared.”

  His body relaxed. He hadn’t even realized he’d been tense. His brother was as tough as nails, mean as a snake, but he was a worrier. “As I recall, Zeke, your wife was instrumental in picking my vacation spot. She knows exactly where I am.”

  “You could have had Mordichai go with you, or Rubin. Someone.”

  “You think I need someone to hold my hand?”

  There was a small silence. “I think I nearly lost my brother on that last mission, Malichai. That’s what I think. I came too damn close to losing you. We don’t know if that leg is going to recover and—”

  Malichai cut him off. “It’s going to recover. I did my walk in the sand, swam in the ocean and didn’t overdo it, just like I promised. I’m fine. Everything is good here. I’m snapping pictures of the other guests at the B and B and sending them for facial recognition and all that bullshit. I don’t think any other vacationer does that sort of thing. Don’t worry so much.”

  Ezekiel sighed. “I just don’t like you so far from home when you’re vulnerable, Malichai. If Whitney gets wind you’re there, you could be in trouble. We have all kinds of enemies, not just Whitney. There’s an entire faction of fanatics who’d like to eliminate every one of us. What about Cheng in China? He’s still around. And we’ve got the coalition of bankers or whatever they are. It isn’t like we’re not surrounded on every front by enemies.”

  Malichai decided it wasn’t a good time to bring up Amaryllis and the fact that he was a little apprehensive she might be one of Whitney’s girls. One word about her, even if he didn’t voice his suspicions, and Ezekiel would be on that plane, just as he’d threatened to do earlier.

  “You get me, Malichai? Don’t treat this as a joke, or act like it’s me being paranoid. The danger to you is very real. You’re fucked-up right now. We both know that leg won’t hold if you need to run.”

  Malichai knew he didn’t have a prayer that the leg would hold if he needed to run.

  “I’m alive, Zeke,” he said quietly, gently. He loved his brother. Ezekiel had fought for everything they had when they were young, clothes, food, even toothbrushes. What he couldn’t buy with the money he earned in various ways, he stole for Malichai and Mordichai. He fought off two-legged predators and other kids wanting their territory. “I’m alive and I’m on vacation for the first time in my life. I’ve got a beach out my front door, good food and good company.”

  There was another silence. “Good company?” Ezekiel ventured.

  Malichai wouldn’t go there. That was dangerous territory. “Yeah, there’re these five men, each from a different country, with a cool idea for peaceful talks—”

  Ezekiel broke in, just the way Malichai knew he would. “That’s good, Kai, but you do exactly what the doc said. Don’t deviate. You want that leg to heal.”

  “Roger that.”

  “And next time I text you, answer me.”

  Malichai wasn’t going to promise that, not even when his brother called him by his half-forgotten childhood nickname. “Good-bye, brother.”

  “Catch you later,” Ezekiel returned.

  Malichai rolled over to see his alarm clock. They would be serving in the dining room now. All that lasagna that was smelling so good his stomach was reacting with protests, angry with him because he was starving it. The aroma of that casserole, especially after he’d watched Amaryllis make it that morning, was driving him to get up. His stomach didn’t care whether or not he’d just eaten or if his leg was going to work. His stomach didn’t even care about his leg—it was all about the food.

  Amaryllis looked up the moment he entered the dining room and she smiled directly at him. That was worth anything, even a lecture from his brother. She lit up the room—for him. He took his plate and went to the end of the line. The two men who had stared at him like a pair of idiots were at the front of the line being served by her. Another man was behind the two, another newcomer he didn’t recognize. A trio of women stood directly in front of him and one of them turned to say hello and she just stared. Then she smiled big.

  Malichai had his gaze fixed on Amaryllis, but he still saw the entire room. She dished up a very large square of the lasagna and indicated that the next station held salads and bread. The two men moved on. The woman kept smiling at him and started to get chatty.

  “Malichai,” Amaryllis called to him. She sounded anxious.

  He immediately left the line and went to her. “What is it, honey?”

  “I didn’t bring enough lasagna out to serve a first round. Would you please grab another one for me? Don’t forget to use gloves and heating pads.”

  “No problem.” He put the plate down and strode out, doing his best to look as if his leg wasn’t on fire and he believed her. She had enough to serve everyone. She hadn’t liked the woman flirting with him. That put him in a good mood.

  Once in the kitchen, it took him a few minutes to find the other casseroles. Amaryllis was using the oven as a warmer. He took one out, resisting the urge to cut out a square for his own dinner and eat it right there. He sauntered back in, being casual about it. She’d managed to serve nearly everyone in line. The ladies who had been just ahead of him were in front of her. The flirtatious one gave him a big smile. Amaryllis dropped the square of lasagna on her plate.

  Malichai smiled at her, his focus on Amaryllis. “Do you want this entire thing on the buffet table? I can cut the squares for you.”

  “Would you, hon?” she asked. “You really are the best, Malichai.”

  He knew what she was doing, and he was perfectly all right with it. She’d told the ladies to back off, he was taken.

  “You eating?”

  “As soon as I’m finished with this round.”

  “Same table?” He indicated the one where she’d been reading when he’d first laid eyes on her—when he’d first been intrigued and considered that she might be enhanced, a GhostWalker like he was.

  She nodded. “That’s the one.”

  Malichai cut the lasagna into large squares, took a good portion and added green salad and bread to his plate before walking to her little table and seating himself there to wait for her.

  4

  Something woke him, setting him on full alert. A sound. A whisper of conspiracy? A scratch at his door. Someone moving in his bedroom. Malichai stayed very still and allowed his enhanced senses freedom. He’d been careful to rein it in, to act normal. Now, he used every advantage that he had. He listened with ears that used his cat DNA, as well as that of a moth. Yeah, he had moth in him. Bizarre, but true. He figured his heightened sense of smell was the reason he was particularly susceptible to Amaryllis. She gave off waves of pheromones, ones he could detect, even when he was running. He had elephant in him as well, and he could find water even if it was twenty-five feet below the ground. Penguin allowed him to be a bullet in the water and to stay under for long periods of time.

  He slid the knife into his hand. It fit perfectly, a part of him. He waited for the attack, breathing evenly, keeping up the pretense of sleep. He had a lot of practice at it. Missions, all over the world, catching naps anywhere he could, surrounded by the enemy.

  He inhaled and knew instantly he wasn’t alone in the room. One of the two men who had been staying there nearly as long as he had. Burnell Strathom had a bad habit of trying to provoke him. He would deliberately walk close to Malichai in the hallway and bump him hard with his shoulder. His partner, Jay Carpenter, would close in from the other side and try a squeeze play on him. They’d done it several times over the last week.

&nb
sp; Malichai and Amaryllis often went out together to the little café and then walked along the beach, just holding hands and talking. He was always content, always at peace, when he was with her. The two men sometimes followed, although there was no way to call them on it. They stayed well back and seemed to just walk aimlessly. Amaryllis had commented on their presence, noting that it seemed they were always heading in the same direction. Malichai made a joke of it and said he thought maybe they were afraid of getting lost.

  He swam in the early mornings, before anyone else was up, and one or the other shadowed him. They didn’t come close, but he spotted them watching him. It was annoying, especially since they weren’t very good at following him. He sometimes would walk aimlessly around the block and deliberately lose them so he could be sitting in the foyer of the B and B drinking coffee when they rushed in, just to watch them panic.

  Burnell came toward the bed, the soles of his shoes whispering along the floorboards. He was not very good at whatever he thought he was doing.

  “You’ve got one chance to pull back, Burnell,” Malichai warned. “You come at me and I’m going to stick this knife through your throat and out your spine. It isn’t polite to interrupt a man’s sleep.”

  There was silence. Burnell sighed softly. “I need to talk to you.”

  “There’s always breakfast.”

  “Can’t do that. You’re always with her.”

  Malichai stiffened. He was always with Amaryllis. She was the “her” Burnell was referring to. He sat up slowly, his cat DNA giving him excellent night vision. “Go sit in the chair across the room. You make one wrong move and you’re a dead man.”

  Burnell did as he was told, but it cost him in pride. Malichai didn’t care. The man had broken into his room and interrupted his sleep.