Deadly Game (GhostWalkers #5)(68)
Author: Christine Feehan

Ken was, and always had been, a dangerous man. He was, by turns, controlled and deliberate, cold and efficient, and always capable of swift and brutal violence if the situation called for it. Where Jack was easy for those around him to read, Ken appeared easygoing and affable. The men in their unit found him much more approachable. Jack had always known on some level that Ken had forced himself to be the “front” man in an effort to protect his twin. He hadn’t realized, until now, how foreign that behavior had been to Ken’s nature.

Ken had the same hidden demons—the same nightmares and fears—and he had an even stronger dose of their father’s legacy—the dark jealousies and need for swift and violent retribution. Ken had worn a mask all those years, hiding—even from his twin—the rage seething just below the surface. Between the trauma of his recent capture and torture and meeting Mari, Ken’s way of life had been turned upside down. The smooth, easygoing façade was gone.

Jack sighed and glanced at his watch. “Don’t get caught. I’d hate to have to kill anyone before we even get started.”

Ken reached out to tap his brother’s knuckles with his own in their familiar silent ritual. He scooted back into the foliage, careful to keep the thin branches from swaying as he passed through. Moving at a snail’s pace, Ken inched his way down the hillside until he was within a few yards of the cottage he was fairly certain was the doctor’s. The small house was set just a little apart from the other houses, and security was tighter. The guards walked the perimeter every ten minutes, two of them, switching their routine continually. The doctor had something to hide.

Ken slipped into the scraggly hedges surrounding the small community of houses just as a guard came around the side of the house and stopped, the heels of his boots within a foot of Ken’s elbow. Ken’s breath caught in his lungs—he stayed absolutely still, allowing ants and beetles to crawl over him. A lizard tickled his arm as it raced up it in little starts and stops, until it perched on his shoulder, pumping up and down, scenting the air.

The guard took three steps forward and halted again, turning fast as if he was trying to spot something—or someone. Ken’s brows drew together. Had he made a sound? The whisper of clothes along the ground? He took care that his skin reflected the foliage around him. His specially designed clothes reflected the colors of his surroundings.

What had tipped off the guard? Ken slid his hand inch by inch along his jacket until he reached the knife strapped to the front. His fingers wrapped around the hilt, but he left it in the scabbard. He could draw and throw almost before others could squeeze a trigger. The move had been practiced hundreds of hours over the last few years, and he was every bit as accurate at throwing as he was with a rifle.

I’ve got him.

Jack’s voice was without emotion, a statement of fact. If the guard twitched wrong, he was a dead man, and then all hell would break loose fast.

I’ll take him out and hide the body. Ken was beginning to sweat. He could hear the man breathing, smell his fear, see the nerves as he searched the hillsides carefully. He’s got to be enhanced, Jack. He’s using either vision or hearing, but he hasn’t locked on to you. They couldn’t afford for the guard to raise the alarm. Something was making him nervous, but Ken couldn’t figure it out. There was no telltale tree cancer where a part of Jack’s weapon might be showing along the side of the tree trunk. No shiny objects. Jack had the same ability to camouflage his skin, the same reflective clothing. He disappeared into his surroundings until he was invisible. Ken knew exactly where Jack was, yet he couldn’t spot him, and if he couldn’t with his eagle sight, he was damned certain the guard couldn’t either.

He’s psychic. He’s not feeling our energy when we’re talking, but he’s catching something else, he warned his brother. Don’t move a muscle.

They both watched as the guard quartered the area with a slow, careful search. He didn’t reach for his field glasses, and that told both of them he had enhanced sight. Ken tried to draw into himself, careful to keep his breath smooth and even and silent. All the while he kept his attention on the guard, not daring to risk another look at his brother. If the guard spotted Jack, Ken would have to kill him swiftly and in utter silence, before the man had a chance to either raise the alarm or turn a weapon on Jack.

Without warning Mari’s fear filled his mind. It poured into him as if he were wide open with no careful shields built to protect him. His body shook with the overload. Air left his lungs in a rush, his mouth went dry, and his heart seemed to stop, then began to pound so loud he was afraid the guard would overhear. Sweat broke out on his brow—none of it was good when he was feet from an enhanced soldier.

He drew air into his lungs, pushed past Mari’s fear, and stayed focused on his enemy. He was so close to the man, he knew he could get to his feet and wrap his arm around the soldier and plunge the knife in a kill zone, all in a few seconds, but the man would still have time to react. Physical enhancement made them abnormally strong, and GhostWalkers were taught to fight to their last breath. The guard might just be tough enough to have time to raise an alarm. Desperation was beginning to settle in. Ken forced his body under control and remained waiting, but all the while a growing terror for Mari’s safety spread.

She’ll be all right. You’ve got to trust her.

Jack’s calm voice helped to keep Ken from rising up and taking a chance on disposing of the guard just so he could get to Mari as fast as possible. He waited, willing the man to move on. If he used mind control to get the man off of him, the outpouring of energy might very will tip off every other psychic in the compound. He breathed deep and felt for her. Mari. Her fear was for someone else. He could live with that.

The guard relaxed after another long, slow look around, and ambled off around the corner of the small house. Ken waited another three minutes to make certain the man wasn’t doubling back.

You’re clear, Jack said.

Ken crawled forward, sliding through the neat flower garden, a rather strange and prissy bed of color out in the middle of nowhere. The windows of the house were painted black, and where there was a small bit of streaking, he could see heavy drapes blocking any view of the interior.

The doctor doesn’t want anyone prying into his business. Why else would his windows be all blacked out?

He’s probably paranoid. Wouldn’t you be, living here with Whitney for a boss?

Ken didn’t answer. The window appeared to be clear of an alarm, but he wasn’t buying it. The doctor had something to hide, and he was going to find out what. He listened for the low hum of an electronic alarm. His fingers swept the sill, searching for hidden trip wires. Oh, yeah, the place was locked down tight.