Night Game (GhostWalkers #3)(47)
Author: Christine Feehan

“Four men killed a local retired riverboat captain. He was a good friend of mine. Knew him since I was a kid. They hunted him on his island, murdered him, and threw his body in with one of the big alligators, weighted it down so no one would find him. Then they burned his boat. Burrell wasn’t a troublemaker, just a nice man who deserved a hell of a lot better than that.”

Kadan’s steel blue eyes never shifted from Gator’s face. “And you happened on them afterward?”

Gator nodded. “I was actually going to the houseboat, had parked the motorcycle I was using when I heard the shots coming from the island.”

Kadan glanced at the Jeep wrapped around a tree, at the body of a man with a knife buried to the hilt in his throat and the driver garroted, his weapon lying beside him. “You lost your temper, Gator.”

Behind him, Tucker Addison snorted. “I’d say that as a hell of an understatement. This is a war zone. And didn’t do much for your motorcycle either.”

Gator didn’t crack a smile. He didn’t feel like smiling. He had lost his temper and that was a dangerous thing. And he hadn’t been the only one. Flame had shown restraint. It didn’t much look like it with four men lying dead in the swamp, but she could have flattened everything within a five-mile radius had she not been disciplined enough to focus on only the four assassins.

He ducked his head, the memory of his own loss of temper, his own lack of discipline a lifetime ago washing over him before he could stop it. The blow felt like a punch in the gut and he choked on shame and guilt. He had to turn away from Kadan and his all-seeing eyes. He could never look at any of the GhostWalkers, not straight the eye, when he recalled the early events of his training. He slammed the door closed on ugly memories the way he always did, but he wondered how many ugly memories Flame had. It was another thread tying them together.

Without conscious thought, his hand stroked the seat I the motorcycle. He only became aware of it when he felt Kadan’s gaze following the movement. Abruptly he pulled his hand away. “I couldn’t let them get away with it, Kadan. They were whooping it up and I followed them. We fought and they died.”

“Sounds simple enough, doesn’t it, Tucker?” Kadan asked.

Gator glared at him. “They had their chance at me. The big guy over there,” he gestured with his thumb to ward the sniper, “nearly killed me.”

“Did you try to take them in?” Kadan stared at the Jeep and the dead man with the knife shaft sticking out of his throat.

“There were four of them and they didn’t exactly say they were giving up.”

Kadan’s sharp eves slid over him. “Not with a knife sticking out of their throat, I’ll just bet they didn’t. Why aren’t you telling me the truth? What happened here?”

“Why were you in New Orleans?” Gator countered. “The last I heard you were recovering from a mission and holing up for a while.”

The tension shot up. The rain poured down. Kadan’s blue eyes grew colder, turned more gray than blue. “What the hell’s going on here, Gator?”

Tucker moved up beside Kadan, his features hard and still. Ian shifted position until he was shoulder to shoulder with Gator, facing the other two GhostWalkers.

Kadan’s cell phone jangled. He let it ring twice before he pulled it out and snapped it open. “Make it fast. I’m in the middle of something.”

“Tell me what’s going on out there, Kadan.” Lily’s voice could clearly be heard. “Does this have anything to do with Flame? With Iris Johnson?”

“As far as I know Gator came out here to find Joy Chiasson. I don’t know anything about the Johnson woman. I don’t know if this is related to Joy’s disappearance or not, but four men, one highly skilled and definitely trained in the military, probably special ops, from the evidence I see, murdered an old man, a friend of Gator’s. That’s what this is about. You know of anyone running a field op down here, Lily?”

“I’ll find out. Is everyone okay?”

“All the good guys. The bad guys are in a hell of a mess.” Kadan hung up, pocketed the phone, and looked directly at Gator. “This is about Flame, isn’t it? You found her.”

Another silence settled over them so that the rain seemed loud as it beat down on them. Gator shrugged his shoulders. “She’s here in New Orleans. She was staying with Burrell in the houseboat.”

“You think she was the one they were after?” Tucker gestured toward the dead men. “You don’t really think they were sent to assassinate her, do you? Who would know about her? Who would send them? And why would there be a son of a bitch just as trained as we are and most likely just as enhanced psychically?”

“You think Whitney is alive.” Kadan made it a statement.

Gator shook his head, a slight, humorless grin tugging at his mouth. “You’re good, Kadan, and you weren’t even touching me. Yeah, I think the bastard just might be alive. And I’m thinking he might be setting us up to see how we match up in the field with the women he experimented on.”

Kadan frowned, thinking it over. “No one saw his body. I suppose it’s possible. He could have fooled Lily and set her up to do his work for him.” He looked around him with suspicious eyes. “Gator, you didn’t think Tucker and I were part of someone else s team, did you?”

Gator shoved a muddy hand through his disheveled hair. “I don’t know what the hell I’m thinking anymore. Who can I trust when her life is on the line? Lily wants her back, but I can’t exactly force her to go back when all she’s ever known there is pain and suffering. She doesn’t trust Lily.”

“What about you, Gator? Do you trust Lily?”

“Well, that’s the question, isn’t it?”

CHAPTER 10

Flame was weeping. Gator’s belly knotted. The sound was soft and muffled, probably by a blanket, but he could hear her even through the pounding rain and it broke his heart. He tied his skiff to a post beside the airboat and jumped onto shore. The ground was spongy and his boots sank a couple of inches into muck. In his life, he had never imagined the sound of a woman quietly crying would tear him up the way it was doing. He should have come to her immediately instead of taking the time to shower and pick up a few supplies.

He paused outside the door. What was he going to say to her? Kadan, Tucker, and Ian had all agreed with him that it was possible that Peter Whitney was still alive. They had no idea why Burrell had been murdered. If the one obviously enhanced sniper hadn’t been with the others, Gator would never have suspected that Burrell’s death had anything to do with Flame or the GhostWalkers-now he just didn’t know.