by Jami Gray
Wolf shook his head. “Damn, man, you’ve got it bad.”
Rabbit leaned forward, arms braced on the front seats, his shit-eating grin taking up my rearview mirror. “’S all good, ’cause while he’s coverin’ Megan’s cute little ass, we’ll cover his.”
“Keep your damn eyes off her ass,” I warned Rabbit.
Doc shoved Rabbit back into his seat. “Dare you to say that in front of Jinx.”
Rabbit widened his eyes in mock innocence. “I ain’t foolish enough to tug on death’s whiskers.”
With that, sharing time was over. Thank God.
Twenty-five minutes later, we pulled into a ritzy neighborhood filled with tree-lined gates guarding overly large houses that sat back from the road in tiny pretend fiefdoms. We did a drive-by of Hawes’s address as we cruised through the elite neighborhood, and I pretended to be just another everyday gawker in a tinted-window SUV. I kept our speed at the limit, taking in the fifteen-foot wall wrapped around the property’s boundary, the ornate gate with thick bars, and the huge-ass house sitting back behind the screen of trees. As the full extent of Hawes’s estate sank in, I let out a low whistle. “Damn. That’s got to be worth—what, three to four million?”
“More like five plus,” Doc said. “Especially since he’s got no neighbors behind him.”
“Bet that’s where some of that squirrelly money went.” Soft clicks accompanied Rabbit’s comment. “Looks like he picked a primo lot. It backs into a park.”
“He’s got security,” Wolf said in a hard voice. “At least ten that I could sense.”
At the end of the street, I took a right. “Did you catch positions?”
Wolf shook his head and turned to Rabbit. “The side neighbors looked pretty close.”
“Yeah, they are, but there’s a ridge along the back line we could hike over. It would bring us in from the rear of the property.” Rabbit made a few more clicks and directed me out of the neighborhood and into the parking lot of a ritzy golf resort.
We pulled into the back and parked in the employee lot, where the SUV fit in with the other reasonably priced cars. With night settling in, it wasn’t hard to blend in with the shadows and make our way back over the ridge. We snaked down the ridge, our goal Hawes’s back fence. While we hiked, Rabbit checked in with the others. Unsurprisingly, Delacourt’s place was locked up tight with no sign of the colonel or anyone else.
Hitting our target, we separated and picked our spots for overwatch. Rabbit sent the other team our coordinates, and we settled in to await their arrival. Spread out along the back line of Hawes’s property, we had an uninterrupted view of his three-story McMansion and the glittery pool caught in the spill of landscaping lights. There was enough illumination to negate our need for the night-vision viewer I’d pulled out of my pocket. The scene was straight out of Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous, minus the famous part. Why in the hell would one man need that much space? The whole place was dripping in pretension and left me wondering how no one found it odd for the major to afford a house like this.
I didn’t realize I’d said the last part out loud until I heard Wolf’s voice in my ear. “Don’t forget the wife came from money.”
“And he’s fucking creative with his finances,” Rabbit chimed in.
“Got movement,” warned Doc. “Counting two, both armed.”
“I’ve got one walking the yard.” I kept my voice low, knowing how well sound carried.
“Two on this side,” Wolf said.
“Got interior patrols moving in pattern,” Rabbit added. “Hard to tell. Could be two, maybe three.”
And that isn’t counting whoever patrols the front. “Hell of a security force for a single man,” I said. “Wolf, can you scan for Delacourt?”
“I can try. Distance is a bitch, and if Hawes is the telepath we think he is, he’ll have precautions in place.”
“Give it a shot.”
We fell silent, waiting while Wolf did what he did best. One minute ticked by, then another before I heard Wolf’s soft curse. “Son of a bitch is definitely psychic.”
“You trip something?”
“No. Went in soft and slow. Found a few triggers and let them be, but he’s shielding like a bitch.”
“Any sign of Delacourt?”
“Not yet, but he’s got a lower level out of sight.”
Fuck. That was not good. “Rabbit, can you get—”
“Blueprints. On it.” A piece of shadow broke from the others and slipped away.
We continued to watch as the minutes ticked by. Recon required patience, which was no easy thing when you knew shit was going down and you were stuck watching for hours at a time. This time, we didn’t have hours to waste. Twenty minutes in, a soft warning click in my ear signaled the arrival of the rest of the team. We left Doc on watch and retreated behind the ridge, far enough away not to draw attention. Rabbit was hunched over his phone as everyone circled around. He’d managed to find a blueprint of the house, and sure enough, there was a basement level. We kept the comms open so Doc could listen in. Discussion was short and to the point.
With such a large estate, it was imperative that we search the entire house for Delacourt, which meant splitting into teams. The sticking point came when we had to figure out how to keep Hawes unaware of our infiltration. Then Cyn turned to me. “Why not go with the initial plan you came up with? The one where Megan keeps Hawes busy?”
My initial reaction was to snap Fuck, no, but then I shoved my emotions aside to make room for practicality. I turned the plan over and over, a sense of knowing growing with each revolution. Asking Megan to step back into that dreamworld was risky as hell. I remembered Rico’s warnings. Inside that psychic sphere, it wouldn’t take much for a telepath to turn the tables on a dream-walker, with disastrous results. But going in without a distraction was an even bigger risk—not just to our team but for the colonel as well. In the end, despite leaving my guts in a tangle of icy knots, the decision was simple. We needed that distraction.
I turned to Wolf. “Can you reach Ricochet? Get his take.”
He nodded, tilted his head, and half closed his eyes. Everyone waited while Wolf stretched his ability out and spoke to Ricochet. Although there wasn’t much light outside the small penlights we were using, I caught his slight flinch. He gave the merest hint of a smile, blinked a couple of times, and rubbed his chin. “They’re a go, but I got to say, based upon what she threatened Rico with if he didn’t say yes, you might want to make it a point not to piss her off.”
That didn’t exactly ease my worry. “If Ricochet isn’t sure—”
“No matter what she threatened,” Wolf said, “if he wasn’t okay with it, he wouldn’t have given the green light.” His eerie sea-green eyes held mine, and his voice was steady in my mind when he added, just for me, Give her this. She needs to be a part of this.
Swallowing hard, I nodded.
Wolf turned back to the group. “They need about thirty minutes to pull him in, then we can move in. We’ll need to rely on our comms because I’ve got to keep a mental path open with Rico.” A round of nods came back. “All right, then, in case you missed it, Hawes is definitely a telepath, so keep those mental walls locked tight. Don’t give him a crack to slither through, copy?”
I heard a soft chorus of “Copy.” Then we went back over the plan, piece by meticulous piece. The peculiar calm that preceded any mission settled over my shoulders, smoothing away the ragged edges of worry and leaving nothing but the immediate in its place. The expressions around me fell into familiar lines as we did our last-minute checks. Then it was time.
“We’ve got fifteen minutes to get into position,” Wolf warned, twisting his wrist up to set his watch. We all mimicked him, fingers poised. “Starting now.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Go, dog, go.
I hit the last o on the dust-laden typewriter and listened to the faint snap of the key drift away into the forgotten books behind me. Brushing my dusty finger agai
nst my jeans, I turned away and walked through the bookstore, stroking dusty spines as I passed the shelves. A sense of being stalked followed me to the open doorway. Back outside in the post-apocalyptic nightmare, I looked around, tense and worried. Although nothing stared back, I shivered.
“Buck up, buttercup.” My muttered comment sounded overly loud in the war-torn dreamscape. I was back in the same dreamscape that Ricochet and Bishop had followed me through earlier, but this time, I was flying solo. Well, for the most part. Ricochet was around somewhere, but this was my dream, and he was playing ghost because we didn’t want to spook Hawes. Instead, I was all but staked out like the sacrificial virgin for the fire-breathing dragon.
A shadow passed overhead, and I jerked my head up, searching the gray skies as my heart pounded in sudden fear. Rico’s advice about being careful with what I’d created reverberated through me. Dammit! Why the hell did I have to pick that image? The last thing I needed was to add a freaking dragon to the mix. A silent inky form drifted on the winds, joining a handful of others as they circled something in the distance. Faint caws sounded, and I braced a hand against the warped doorframe, dropping my head as I relearned to breathe. Crows or ravens? It was hard to tell from this distance, but I could totally handle those over a dragon.
Forcing my feet to move, I headed away from the remains of the bookstore, picking my way through the desolate city streets as I trudged toward my tower. It was Ricochet’s idea to start at one of the scenes Hawes had used to torment me, not at the tower, my place of protection. We didn’t have time to play the necessary mind games needed to trick him inside. It would be easier, Ricochet said, to fool Hawes into thinking I was simply asleep and dreaming than to lay a trap. Since there was no freaky, intimidating stalker fog nearby, I deduced that Hawes hadn’t clued in yet.
Figures. I’d picked this scene because it was the most recent, but I had another one in mind, a darker one that left my stomach cramped and my hands shaky. My courage wasn’t strong enough to dive straight into it, so I was taking the longer path to the waiting nightmare—Danielle’s murder.
There were many scenes Hawes liked to taunt me with, but that one… yeah, that one got to me the most. His enjoyment, the thrill and pleasure coursing through him—and through me because I couldn’t escape his demented hold—was like a drug that drew him back time after time. The fact that it made me ill and left me screaming into the void as I teetered on sanity’s edge just added to his sadistic feast.
An upraised root caught my foot, sending me sprawling forward, my palms and knees hitting hard. Rock, wood, and dirt pitted my palms and stung my knees. The change in scenery barely registered as the suffocating dread pressed like a demon’s hand against my spine, leaving a bone-deep chill in its wake. Something slithered in the thick greenery nearby. The flutter of wings came from overhead, but only shadows drifted through the leaves. I started to shake, and a whimper escaped me as my fear grew teeth and sank them deep into my racing pulse.
He was out there. I could feel him hunting me. When he caught me… my brain stalled under the swamping terror, leaving me blind.
I scrambled to my feet and stumbled forward, hand outstretched, sobs hitching in my chest. Branches tore at my skin and clothes, the whiplike stings adding another layer to the mindless panic driving me forward. I slammed into a tree, bounced off hard, and landed on my ass. The impact was so jarring that my fear receded just for a second—long enough for me to recognize what was happening: Hawes was playing with me, using my fear against me. Again.
Son of a bitch!
Under the sickening fear, rage woke, gaining strength as I scrambled back to my feet. My fists curled at my sides as I studied the shadowed forest from hell around me. My breath sawed through my chest in loud, harsh exhalations.
From deep in the darkness came a hair-raising laugh, followed by a mocking taunt that seemed to come from everywhere at once. “Are you scared yet, Megan?”
Spinning around, I stared into the shifting shadows, trying to find him. “What do you want?” I hated the tremor in my voice, but I was holding on by my fingernails.
“You know what I want. I want them, and you’re going to give them to me.”
I was shaking my head. “No, I’m not.”
“So sure of that?” The question rode an icy breath of air over my shoulder and came from behind me.
Pure instinct wrenched me forward, away from the threat at my neck, but when I spun around, no one was there. Retreating, I put my spine to a thick tree and dug my nails into the bark. Lifting my chin, I forced a credible sneer into my voice. “You had me for six months and couldn’t get what you wanted. No way in hell you’re going to get it now.”
Just then, a familiar feminine voice screamed my name, wiping away everything but instinct and sending me crashing through the forest.
“Keelie!” There was no way to stop my mad dash, not with my baby sister’s cries cresting on the air. Images of Danielle overlapped with Keelie, pushing me faster until I broke through the forest and into a clearing. At the horror before me, I rocked to a stop. “NO!”
A figure towered over my sister’s white terror-filled face. Keelie’s fingers tore at the hands that were wrapped with cruel intent around her neck as her screams choked into horrific gasps. I rushed forward, carried by fear, determination, terror, and fury. Years of martial arts training were left in the dust as the need to hurt and protect took over. I grabbed a nearby branch and, screaming in useless fury, swung at the figure’s head. But he was gone. With no time to check my swing, the branch slammed into Keelie’s skull with a dull thud. For a breathless moment she swayed, then she crumbled into a heap.
The branch fell from my nerveless fingers as I dropped to my knees, a keening wail of grief and horror escaping my mouth. “No, Keelie! No, no, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” I cradled the lifeless body of my sister, holding her close, rocking in mindless agonizing guilt. Oh my God, I killed her. “I didn’t mean too. I’m sorry.”
Malicious laughter rang at my ear. “You’ll tell me, or I’ll make sure you kill everyone you love.”
As I held Keelie’s dead weight in my arms, the overwhelming guilt and horror of my actions closed in, leaving me screaming into the night. With a harsh caw, a dark shadow dropped from the branches above. Instinct made me turn away, but the stinging burn of razor-sharp talons raked along my skin, opening long, bloody scratches along my cheek. The unexpected attack acted like a mental slap.
This isn’t real. This is a dreamscape. My dreamscape.
Keelie wasn’t here—this wasn’t her. Desperately, I grasped the fragile rope of sanity and hung the fuck on. Carefully, even though I knew it wasn’t her, I laid my sister down. Closing my eyes, I rose and began reshaping the dreamscape, using my anger as fuel. When I opened my eyes, Keelie was gone, and I was no longer in the forest. Instead, I stood in the meadow, my stone tower rising tall and strong in the distance.
I raised my hand and aimed my middle finger at the looming storm. “Fuck you, Hawes.”
Above, the sky darkened as the approaching storm moved in, fast and mean. Winds tore around me, whipping my hair back from my face in stinging retaliation and forcing me to lean into them in an effort not to drop under the pressure.
I screamed into the wind. “Grow a pair, and face me!”
“Megan.”
Spinning around in the sudden quiet, I came face-to-face with Bishop. For a moment, relief left my knees weak. Then alarm spread through me. This couldn’t be Bishop. He shouldn’t be here. Oh God. Had I managed to bring him into the dreamscape again, like last time? Panic welled, nailing my gut like a fist. If Bishop was here, it meant… did that mean… and the team…? My thoughts kept slipping as my fear and worry spun faster and faster.
Hard hands grabbed my arms and shook me. “Megan, what the fuck is going on?”
“I don’t know… I think…” I tried to look around, to find some way to tell if this was real or another mind game, but there was nothing to anc
hor me.
Bishop drew me up until I was on tiptoes, and his furious face was all I could see. Accusation left harsh disgust and cut unforgiving lines, turning his expression brutal in its fury. “What the hell did you do, Megan? Where’s the team? Why did you bring me here?”
Oh God! I fucked up! I fucked it all up!
Chapter Twenty-Seven
BISHOP
With a mental clocking ticking down the time, we split into two teams. Utilizing a nonlethal approach, we made short work of taking the exterior targets out of play. I was tightening the last set of zip ties on the unconscious male with more muscles than brains when Kayden’s message, “Front clear, heading in,” came over the line. He, Rabbit, Doc, and Cyn were taking the front entrance, their goal to split once inside and clear the basement level.
“In, starting search.” That was Tag’s check-in. He and Jinx had scaled the garage’s lower roof, gaining access to the top floor through the windows. Safely inside, they would be working to clear the third floor as they moved down to the second.
Wolf tapped my shoulder and signaled that the back was clear. Our target was the smaller side entrance tucked behind a huge bush that reached almost to the second floor. Wolf popped the lock, and we slipped inside what was probably considered a mudroom even though it was larger than any mudroom I’d seen. Light from the room beyond crept under the closed door. Wolf and I stilled at the interior door. “In, holding for status.”
A muffled grunt and scuffling came from inside. I waited a heartbeat, then two, then Kayden said in my ear, “Clear, move.”
Wolf led the way, and we stayed tight as we cleared our way through a massive living room and kitchen, both of which were well lit. The lack of concealment made my spine itch, but on the other hand, open floor plans like this made for straightforward threat assessments. I’d be able to see people coming from a mile away. Of course, they’d be able to see me, too, so it might come down to whoever was faster. After the lazy-ass display out front, I was betting heavily on our team.