Predatory Game (GhostWalkers #6)(91)
Author: Christine Feehan

She saw a figure move, running from the side of the building to the shelter of one of the trees. Her heart jumped. She took a breath and allowed adrenaline to give her the rush she was going to need.

“He’s over by the smaller of the trees closest to the station. Keep your eye on him. If he goes for the car, can you hit him? Are you good with that gun? Because, seriously, if you’re not, I am. The thing is, though, it will make me sick-really, really sick-to kill.”

He was silent for a moment, his grin widening. “Just how good are you with a gun?”

“I’ve had a lot of weapons training and I qualify as an expert marksman.”

“You’re just full of surprises. And mean as a snake. You want that son of a bitch dead, don’t you?”

“I want him gone. And I don’t want to have to worry that he’s going to come after me again.” She didn’t know any other way to shoot than to shoot to kill.

They were right at the ledge now. She didn’t want Brady to drop to the other side until he fired the shot or gave her the gun. They’d only have one shot at it. Once he’d given away their position, she’d have to stash him and draw the attacker away from him. Her only hope was that the madman didn’t want to kill her right away. Whatever this was-whoever it was-it had nothing to do with the army and the investigation Jess was conducting. The man was a stalker-her stalker.

They lay in the thin grass, willing the man to go toward the cars. He called out Saber’s name again, the sound so strange she realized he had to be using a device to distort the tone enough to disguise it. She knew him. She always identified people by their particular biorhythm, the way their body was unique. She had to tune out everything else and just hear him if she was going to recognize him. And that meant she couldn’t do it until she could get far enough away from Brady so his heartbeat wouldn’t interfere.

Everything to her was an electrical current-a kind of code-and she knew if she could get close enough, her body would pick her stalker’s rhythm up.

“He’s moving,” Brady said.

She blinked to bring the shadowy figure into focus. He took a couple of tentative steps. Brady brought the gun up.

“I might be able to hit him,” he said. “The company van is blocking him, but I might tag him if he comes out into the open.”

“Go for it if you think you can.”

He flicked her one quick glance and then shifted to get into a better position. His hand was shaking. Sweat dripped into his eyes.

Their attacker crouched low, looked left and right, and then ran toward the cars. The sound of his boots hitting the asphalt seemed overly loud in the silence.

Saber took the gun from Brady’s hand, aimed, and squeezed the trigger. The bullet caught the man low, slamming him backward. The sound of the gunshot reverberated across the parking lot. He yelled and fired off several rounds as he went down, shooting wildly. The barrage of bullets hit cars and trees and went into the dirt, but didn’t come close to them.

Saber pushed to her feet. She had very little time. Already the violent energy was rushing to overtake her. Brady tried to catch her with an outstretched hand, but she brushed past him and ran toward the downed man, the gun rock steady on him. She had to finish him before the energy hit her and she went down. There was no one else to protect Brady, and his wound was serious.

“Don’t!” Brady called sharply.

She was aware of him struggling to get to his feet, but she couldn’t stay and help. The wounded man thrashed on the ground, cursing aloud, and she gripped the gun harder, her stomach churning. She willed him to turn the gun on her. She didn’t want to kill him in cold blood-like an assassin. She wanted it to at least be self-defense.

She made noise as she ran, deliberately making her footsteps loud, hoping he’d bring up the gun, but he kept screaming and rolling on the asphalt. Saber skidded to a halt, brought up the gun, and stared down into the face of the man who had violated her sanctuary-her home.

“Les.” She let out her breath, a little shocked that the day soundman could have been stalking her for the last few weeks. He barely spoke to her, in fact the rare times they worked together, he was surly and mean.

He spat curses at her, the gun still in his hand, but he didn’t lift it, only drummed his heels against the asphalt and raged as if demented. She could see he’d been wounded in the stomach. The pain had to be excruciating.

“Saber!”

If she was going to kill him, she had to do it now, squeeze the trigger and be done with him, but she couldn’t. She stood there shaking, the energy swirling around her in blacks and reds, swallowing her up so that her vision darkened and she went to her knees.

Brian ran up behind her and the terrible churning in her stomach, the pounding in her head, lessened significantly. When he dropped his hand on her shoulder, it disappeared altogether.

“Are you all right?”

“Brady’s been shot. We need to call an ambulance.”

He reached down and helped her up, removing the gun and tucking it into his belt. “Did he hurt you?”

“No. But he’s been the one calling and he broke into my house and did disgusting things in my bedroom. I don’t understand this.”

“No? Les was sent by Dr. Whitney to watch you and report back to him.”

Brian drew a gun from beneath his shoulder and kicked at Les with the toe of his boot while Saber stood there, mouth open in shock.

“How would you know that? Who are you?”

“The theory was neither you nor Jess would pay much attention to someone not genetically enhanced. And you didn’t. It was a test of sorts, one you both failed. You even disliked him, but you didn’t bother to find out why. That’s a weakness, Saber.”

He brought up the gun, aimed it, and fired. A hole blossomed in the center of Les’s forehead. Saber jumped and stepped back, horrified.

“You should have killed him. You never would have been safe as long as he was around. He’s been deteriorating for months. He obsessed over you.”

“Brian.” Saber inhaled sharply, trying to keep panic down. He wasn’t close enough to touch. And he didn’t take his eyes off of her. “Do you work for Whitney?”

“You already know the answer to that and it should have occurred to you why you were so comfortable at work.” There was a definite reprimand in his voice.

“You’re an anchor.” He was the reason she wasn’t writhing on the ground with jackhammers pounding at her head from the aftermath of violence.