Ultimate Prey (Book 3 Ultimate CORE) (CORE Series)

by Kristine Mason

  “Always go with your gut,” Ryan said, wishing he had the night his brother had murdered another man.

  Ian and Cami’s Rental House, Everglade City, Florida

  Thursday, 2:07 a.m. Eastern Standard Time

  Even with duct tape covering her mouth, Cami’s screams still pierced his ears. “You need to shut the fuck up.” He gritted his teeth and tossed her over his shoulder. Like a mermaid trapped in a net, she squirmed and bucked her body, kicking him in the gut. “I swear to God, if you don’t stop moving I’m going to make it so you never will.”

  She stilled, but kept shrieking. Damn it. An ice pick to the ear would be better than listening to the whiny bitch. He couldn’t think straight, couldn’t remember what needed to be done next.

  Kill her.

  He should. He should pull out his knife and slit her vocal chords. But he liked the challenge of hunting both Cami and Ian. He’d hunted humans in the past, but those men and women had been trained soldiers. These two weren’t. He wouldn’t have to worry about them sneaking up on him during the night—they’d be too preoccupied with trying to escape his pursuit. Unlike animals, humans could think and rationalize. They let their emotions control them. Like animals, they could also become desperate once they were hungry, thirsty and scared. And that was what he looked forward to the most. Watching how they handled themselves in the wild. Witnessing Ian’s desperation as he tried to save his mate.

  He dropped Cami in the backseat of Ian’s rented Range Rover, then quickly tied her wrists and ankles together. With the way she continued to scream he wouldn’t be surprised if Ian killed her before he ever had the chance to put a bullet in her head.

  “Damn, are you annoying,” he said, slammed the door shut, then rushed back into the house. Ian remained where he’d left him bound to a kitchen chair. He glanced around the kitchen and thought about what he’d brought with him to the house. He’d already stowed his hunting gear in the back end of the Range Rover, along with his laptop and cell phone. But his gut told him he was missing something. He checked his watch. It had been over twenty minutes since he’d disconnected the Skype call. Thanks to the bullet that had grazed his upper left arm, he’d spent ten minutes longer than he’d planned, dressing the wound Ian’s gun had caused. If Ian’s assholes went against his orders and sent the cops out to the house, he needed to leave now. And if he had left something behind, it wouldn’t be anything incriminating. That evidence was in the SUV with the screamer.

  Without hesitation, he drew his gun, then placed it at the base of Ian’s head. “I’m going to cut your bindings. If you try anything, I’ll kill you now, but I will continue with my hunt. How do you think Cami will do out in the Everglades all by herself?” Still keeping the gun on Ian, he pulled the knife from the ankle harness. “You don’t want that, do you?”

  Ian shook his head.

  “Good,” he said, slicing through the cord he’d used to keep Ian strapped to the chair. “Now be a good little bunny and hippity hoppity.”

  He helped Ian hop out the kitchen door and toward the carport. Once they reached the Range Rover, he opened the rear passenger door, saw Cami laying on the backseat, tears streaming down her face, and shoved Ian inside. After he hogtied Ian, then bound them together with the additional cord he’d left in the SUV, he climbed out, and slammed the door. As he rushed to the driver’s side door, he glanced at his watch again. Twenty-three minutes since the call.

  He started the SUV, shoved the gear into DRIVE and looked in the rearview mirror. “Are you ready for some fun?” he asked, drifting his gaze from the driveway to the couple. “I know I am.”

  Minutes later, he exited off the narrow lane leading away from Ian’s rental house and on to the highway. Not a soul was on the road. Just him, his gear and the two lovebirds in the back seat. “Won’t be long now,” he said, passing a yellow sign indicating he should look out for panthers crossing the highway. “I hope your minions listened to me. Hunting down your teams’ families would be a total pain in my ass.” He glanced over his shoulder. Too dark to see Ian or the screamer’s faces, he turned his attention to the highway again. “But I always make good on my threats.”

  Considering what he’d done before heading for the Glades, he honestly didn’t want to risk being seen in Chicago. The cops would, if they weren’t already, be looking for him and he preferred his freedom. Actually, after spending the past few days in the Everglades, he might never leave. Between the lush, dangerous environment, the winding channels that ran deep into the heart of the Everglades, and the uninhabited islands and wilderness, he could drop out of sight and never be seen again—unless he wanted to.

  Which he didn’t.

  Ian Scott was no better than a bully on the playground. Arrogant, selfish and only concerned about himself and CORE, Ian had, in a matter of seconds, destroyed his life. Thanks to Ian, there was nothing left for him. No family, no friends and no career.

  Only suffering.

  After he turned off U.S. Route 41 onto State Road 29, he rubbed his cheek where the ski mask had begun to itch, and tightened his jaw. Then there was Dante. That pompous prick had reduced his mission to nothing more than revenge killing. The dick didn’t know what he was talking about. Hunting Ian had nothing to do with revenge and everything to do with proving who was the better man. Ian thought his wealth and connections had made him superior over others. Strip away the expensive three-piece suits, flashy cars and corporate jet, and Ian was nothing but a pathetic, manipulating little man with a Napoleon complex. And he would be the one to knock Ian off the throne he valued above anyone and everything. He would be the one—

  “Son of a bitch,” he shouted, swerving the Range Rover onto the side of the road. Ian and Cami grunted as they hit the back of his seat. He shoved the gear into PARK, then killed the ignition. After climbing out of the vehicle, he popped open the backend and rummaged through his backpack. Once he found what he was looking for, along with a flashlight, he opened the Rover’s hood. Heat from the engine made the mask he wore stifling. Pulling at the material, he tugged it off his head, then shoved it in his back pocket. He slowly waved the wand, a device he’d accidentally forgotten to return after he’d been discharged from the Marines, over the interior. Nothing.

  He slammed the hood, then crouching, ran the wand along the Rover’s undercarriage. When the wand flashed red, he grinned. “Gotcha.” He reached up near the back, passenger side wheel-well and grabbed hold of what he was looking for. “Too easy,” he said, flashing the light against the small GPS tracking device. Standing, he aimed the flashlight toward the heavily wooded area surrounding the state road. He’d meant to leave the device at the rental house, but wouldn’t risk going back there now. He could turn the Rover around and return to U.S. Route 41, except that was time he didn’t want to lose. Although very few traveled down this road, especially during the middle of the night, he wanted to reach their destination and conceal the Range Rover from sight.

  Decision made, he ran in the direction he’d just come from. Stopped—about what he estimated to be fifty or so yards from the SUV—and threw the device as hard as he could into the woodland. After putting the mask back on, he sprinted to the car, checked on his passengers as he climbed inside, then started the ignition.

  He began to drive. Air from the opened window blew against him, but offered little relief. He rubbed a hand along his forehead, hoping to soak up some of the sweat coating his skin beneath the mask, then noticed the Rover came equipped with an air conditioned seat feature. He hit the button on the dash, then adjusted in the leather seat. “That could’ve been a major fuck up,” he said, still not happy that he’d forgotten to remove the device earlier. Even if Ian’s crew of assholes decided to come after them and found the device, they’d waste time trying to locate the starting point of his hunt. He’d be hours, maybe even days ahead of them. Still. If he hadn’t been shot, if he hadn’t allowed Cami’s screams and blubbering to distract him, or Dante and his revenge killing comme
nt to fester, his head and mind would have been on all that had needed to be done before he’d left the rental. Had he missed something else?

  Anger surfaced as he made another turn onto a dirt road that would take them to the location he’d scoped out two days ago, but he tamped it down. He would not allow worry and second-guessing to interfere with the pleasure of the hunt. He was smarter and more skilled than any of Ian’s minions. Even if they did find something he’d forgotten, it wouldn’t matter. Ian would still be dead, CORE would become a thing of the past, and he would vanish.

  The dirt road, originally created back in the 1940s by loggers who’d been trying to access the bald cypress trees that were abundant in the area, narrowed. He’d learned from a local that this road was one less traveled by the many tourists and hikers seeking a taste of what the Everglades offered. Most would turn in the other direction and head toward Janes Memorial Scenic Drive, which would take them into the heart of the Fakahatchee Strand Preserve State Park. But he wanted his prey heading west, where the chances of seeing another human were slim to none, the terrain was more rugged and ruthless, and the hunting at its best.

  “This is quite a ride,” he said, impressed with the way the Range Rover handled the fallen limbs and deep ruts along the road. “What’s something like this cost? Never mind. No need to answer. Since you always have to have the best of everything, I’m sure you told the rental company to just give you the most expensive ride they had.” He shook his head. “Meanwhile, I’m driving around in a shitty Mazda from 1980. You know what I used to drive? Probably not, since you only care about yourself and your precious company. Well, I used to have a really sweet Lexus…had a sunroof, leather seats with an ass warmer. If I recall, Owen used to drive a Lexus, too. He was the one who turned me on to the car. My wife loved it so much, I bought her one.” His ex-wife’s gaping mouth and mutilated face filled his head, and he smiled. “But she doesn’t drive anymore.”

  When the headlights touched on one of the old logging trails known as trams, he slowed, inched the Range Rover forward as far as he could into a thicket of trees, then stopped. “Almost there,” he said, shifting the SUV into PARK. After he’d come across the tram two days ago, he’d been forced to abandon his shitty Mazda and hoof it to the next one, which was about a half mile away and deep within the woods.

  As he climbed out of the Rover, his stomach tightened. Soon enough he’d be one with nature, battling the wildlife, the bugs, the unforgiving landscape and…hunting.

  Damn, he couldn’t wait to put a bullet in Ian’s head. Too bad he couldn’t fake the man’s death for a while just so Ian could watch his company crumble. That was okay, though. He opened the Rover’s trunk, then pulled out the gear he’d stowed there, along with a camouflage tarp. He could watch CORE tank knowing that he was the reason for its demise.

  After pulling the hunting pack, equipped with a hydration system, a rifle and pistol, along with his laptop and cellphone, he strapped it over his shoulders, then opened the rear driver’s side door and met Cami’s gaze. “How’s that finger?” he asked, then released a sigh when she started screaming again. If she kept up all the frickin’ racket, he’d find them in no time. “Must hurt like a bitch. Come on, time to go.”

  He untied the cord connecting her to Ian, then forced them both to scoot across the floorboard and out of the SUV. Once he shoved them to their knees, he tossed the tarp over the Rover. Unfortunately the material wasn’t large enough, and exposed the SUV’s tires. At this point, there wasn’t anything he could do about that. Plus, based on how little this area was traveled by hikers and sightseers, he doubted he’d have to worry about discoverability. After he adjusted the tarp, he moved toward the couple, cut the tape wrapped around their ankles, then quickly stepped back and aimed the flashlight and knife at them.

  Ian and Cami both winced, but seconds later, Ian’s eyes narrowed with hatred.

  Ian was about to find out how much the feeling was mutual. He slid his knife into his back pocket and exchanged it for his Browning 9mm Luger. “It’s a beautiful night for a stroll,” he said with a grin. “Let’s take a walk.”

  Chapter 3

  Ian and Cami’s Rental House, Everglade City, Florida

  Thursday, 2:19 a.m. Eastern Standard Time

  RYAN EDGED AROUND the side of the Key West style home. An eastern screech owl hooted in the distance, while a cricket frog chirped from somewhere nearby. A sliver of the moon peeked from beneath the clouds, making it difficult to see anything. Since he’d already circled the house once and had found no evidence anyone was inside, he neared the back door leading into the kitchen again. The door stood slightly ajar, the lingering odor of sulfur and smoke emanating from inside. Dim light glowed from within, revealing the door’s smashed window and the glass shards littering the stoop.

  When Dante had called him, he would have never guessed the reason. Not in a million years. Hunting another man out of revenge had made no sense to him. Simply putting a bullet in an enemy’s head had, though. Clean and quick. From the way Dante had explained it, the jackass could have killed Ian and his woman, then left. Since Dante had said his boss had been looking forward to heading off the grid, no one would have probably even discovered their bodies for days. The jackass behind this could be sipping margaritas in the Keys by tomorrow morning, rather than trudging through the Glades.

  His stomach tightened with nervous energy as he withdrew his gun. It had been a long time since he’d had to engage in combat or use his weapon for anything other than hunting. And although he suspected no one was inside, he could be wrong.

  Tense, ready for battle, and careful of the glass on the stoop, he stepped into the kitchen. A battery-powered lantern sat on the stovetop. Remnants of duct tape clung to two chairs that had been pushed side by side in front of the refrigerator. In the center of the room, grayish-white residue surrounded the remnants of a road flare.

  He turned his attention to the back door. If this had been a home invasion, and the perpetrator had broken in through the kitchen, then why were the shards of glass on the stoop outside rather than on the inside kitchen tile? He looked closer at the doorknob, and shook his head. Holy shit. A key had been broken off in the lock on the inside, which would make it impossible to open the door unless another key was used from the outside. Could Ian have accidentally done this? His gut told him no. To break a key off in a lock would require a tool of some sort and it made no sense why Ian would lock himself and his girlfriend inside unless—

  He gripped his weapon. As he walked through the kitchen, he stopped, then crouched and held his hand over the extinguished flare. Still warm.

  Unease worked through him. They hadn’t left too long ago. Hell, if he’d arrived a few minutes earlier, he might have run into them. Keeping his weapon readied, he stood. He moved across the dining room into the living room where he found another extinguished flare, then toward the front door. After turning on the flashlight, he inspected the lock.

  Another broken key?

  Jackass had locked them in from the inside.

  He rushed from the foyer and up the stairs to the second level. After making sure those rooms were also empty, he headed back down the stairs, and turned left. He stopped when he came across a bulletproof vest lying on the floor. “Shit,” he mumbled, holstering his gun in exchange for his cell phone.

  Dante picked up on the first ring. “Did you find anything?”

  Ryan squatted. “The house is empty. Looks like your kidnapper sealed them in the house by breaking keys in both the front and back door locks. I found a door on the second level that was left unlocked. I’m thinking he used that to get out of the house—maybe after he spoke with you.”

  “How is that possible? Ian would’ve had to have heard—”

  “Maybe he did hear something, came downstairs and met up with the kidnapper.” Ryan flashed the light along the tiled floor. “I also found used flares in the kitchen and living room. I’m thinking this guy might’ve used the
flares to screw with them. Threw one in a room, scared the shit out of them as they tried to escape, then tossed another.”

  He blew out a breath. Based on the way the bed had looked upstairs, Ian and his girlfriend had probably been sleeping when all of this went down. He couldn’t imagine the fear they must have felt when they’d realized they weren’t alone. Pushing that thought aside, he said, “I’m assuming Ian carries a gun.”

  “Always. Why?”

  “I’ve got a bulletproof vest with a bunch of holes in it, along with bullet casings. I’m guessing the vest belongs to the kidnapper, unless your boss carries one with him when he vacations.”

  “Doubtful. Any blood?”

  “None that I can see.” Ryan stood and walked toward a door dangling from a hinge. “I’m in the laundry room. From the way it looks, Ian and the woman hid in here, and the guy busted down the door.” He moved in front of the washing machine and aimed the flashlight into the hall. “Looks like Ian got off a bunch of shots when the guy took down the door. What happened from there, I don’t know.”

  “And Ian’s car?”

  “Nothing in the carport.”

  “Okay,” Dante began, “I’ll have one of our people look into where Ian rented his car and get the make and model. Knowing Ian, he probably didn’t skimp on the rental. If it has OnStar or something similar, we might be able to track its location. In the meantime, our team is still scheduled to land at Everglades Airport around five-thirty or six your time. Can you pull together gear for them to use? If this takes a couple of days, they’ll need the proper equipment.”

  “I’ll take care of it and ready my boat. You better hope you can get a read on Ian’s car. There are hundreds of places the kidnapper could have taken them to begin his hunt. If you want, I could check out a few that are nearby.”