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

by Kristine Mason

  “Not sure.” The Suburban jostled them around as Ryan drove over fallen limbs and deep juts in the road. “I might consider heading back to the boat and taking it out to where the logging trams stop at the water’s edge.”

  When the headlights touched along metal near the ground, her chest filled with hope. “Is that a tire?” She tapped the dashboard, then pointed. “Do you see that? Whatever’s under that tarp is big enough to be a Range Rover.”

  “Yeah, and I also see that the gate the park rangers maintain to keep tourists out isn’t here.” He slowed the truck, then parked and kept the headlights aimed at the hidden vehicle. “Hang tight. I’m going to check it out.”

  Tiny insects danced in front of the headlights. Lola looked toward where the gate Ryan had mentioned should have been and saw nothing but darkness. She shifted her gaze back to the tarp, just as Ryan flipped the material over itself, unveiling Range Rover along the backend of the black SUV, and the license plate with the exact numbers and letters Dante had given them.

  She sucked in a breath and quickly rushed from the truck, taking the flashlight with her. “This is it,” she said, shining the light inside the SUV.

  “Anything inside?”

  “Nothing.”

  He put the tarp back in place. “Let’s get the gear from the truck.”

  “I thought it was on the boat.”

  “Most of it is, but I have a few things we’ll need until the boat meets us.”

  “Are we going to leave your truck here? What if he comes back? He’ll know—”

  “If he’s already hunting, he won’t come back. If he comes back, we’ll run into him and neutralize the situation then and there, right?”

  She checked the gun harness she wore over the sweatshirt she’d borrowed. “Right,” she said, her stomach filling with nervous energy. During the six months she’d been with CORE, she’d fired her weapon twice in the line of duty. Five men had attacked her during a routine investigation, and she’d reacted, wounding two of them with her gun and the other three with her fists. Her or them. But could she shoot the man who’d taken her mom? Absolutely.

  When Harrison and Vlad approached them, Ryan checked his watch, then slung his pack over his shoulders. “It’s five after six. He’ll begin hunting any minute and we have no idea how many miles he has on us, or how many Cami and Ian have on him. We need to get moving,” he said, then hit the trail.

  As Lola followed behind, she prayed that her mom and Ian had been able to put distance between themselves and the hunter. She also hoped they hadn’t run too far. Once they hit the water—she couldn’t think about that now.

  Or what lurked in and beyond the woods…

  HUNTING 202

  Don’t think to hunt two hares with one dog.

  —Benjamin Franklin

  Chapter 5

  Somewhere in the Everglades, Florida

  Thursday, 6:07 a.m. Eastern Standard Time

  IAN TRIPPED ON a large tree root, jutting from the ground. He stumbled and fell forward, catching his weight with his hands before hitting the ground.

  “Are you okay?” Cami asked, breathless.

  Nodding, he looked up, then straight ahead. The strong earthy odor of dirt hit him square in the face, along with another scent. Stagnant water? Fish? “I think we’re almost to the end of this trail.”

  “Some trail,” she said, helping him rise. She looked to his feet, which had already been scraped raw by rocks and branches. “How bad does it hurt?”

  “Not bad,” he lied. Dirt had found its way into the cuts and abrasions and stung with each step he took. “Come on, let’s go.”

  He took her hand, then led her down a slope that began to grow steeper. After a few minutes, they both took to grabbing onto low hanging tree branches to keep from losing their footing and sliding the rest of the way into what he assumed would be water. As they reached the bottom of the incline, the ground became softer. Leaves and plants replaced the hardened soil, making it easier on his feet.

  “Look up ahead.” Cami pointed. “Do you see it?”

  They broke through the trees and stepped into soggy mud. Cool water immediately sloshed around his ankles, soothing his aching feet. He glanced around them. The sky had gone from black to a beautiful shade of purple, while shades of pinkish orange kissed the horizon. A light haze of fog rose from the water, and the eerie cypress trees reflected in the brackish pool.

  How could a place be so beautiful, and yet so deadly?

  He licked his dry lips, wishing he could quench his thirst, and noticed Cami do the same.

  “Water, water everywhere, and not a drop to drink,” she misquoted from the book, The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, and stared at the marsh, which had cut a semi-circle into the land. “I wonder how deep it is.”

  “You can swim, right?”

  “I prefer a pool. There aren’t any alligators in pools.”

  He cracked a smile and eyed the still water, looking for any movement. “The sun is rising here,” he said, still trying to catch his breath and thumbing to the left. “And he told us to keep going west. We can travel to the right and stay along the edge of shore. But I’m worried about leaving tracks behind and the reasons why he wants us going west. If we swim across the water, we can make it to the other side quicker and gain more distance. It’s probably only forty or fifty yards across. Can you do it?”

  She slid off her filthy slippers, then tucked them in the bra of her camisole, leaving a path of mud along her collarbone. “If it’s not that deep, I’d prefer to keep these somewhat dry.”

  He took her hand. “We’ve got this,” he said, leading her into the water with less confidence than he’d ever let on. He’d explored the Everglades, but not half-clothed, hungry, thirsty and exhausted. And certainly not on foot while a lunatic hunted him. He didn’t know what scared him more—the man behind the mask, or what lay on the other side of the marsh. Either way, both were proving to be unforgiving.

  If only he could turn them back and try to find the road. Without a weapon or compass, he couldn’t be sure if he’d make it through. When they’d been running through the woods in the dark, there had been a few times when the landscape had started to look the same and he’d become disoriented. The last thing he wanted was to run into the bastard and face him weaponless. Considering what the man had put them through so far, Ian didn’t doubt for a moment that’d he’d make good on his word and hurt Cami. A broken pinky would be nothing in comparison to what he might do with a knife.

  He tightened his hand around hers, careful of her pinky. He’d die before he allowed anything to happen to her. He loved her, and she had too much to live for. He did, too. But if it wasn’t for him, they wouldn’t be in this situation. The crazed hunter obviously knew him, but how? From his days with the FBI? Not likely, since he’d mentioned his agents by name during the Skype call. God, he didn’t know. He’d pissed off so many people over the years, he wasn’t even sure who to consider first. Men he’d put in prison? Or what if the man had been hired by someone he’d done business with or a politician who’d been holding a grudge? He quickly dispelled that last consideration. If this was a hired hit, he’d already be dead. No, the man behind the mask had made this personal. He’d invaded his home while they’d slept. Then the bastard had brought his agents into the mix in order to make them all suffer. Why?

  Cami sucked in a breath as the water encircled her waist. “It’s chilly. Have I ever told you how much I love heated pools?”

  Ignoring the goose bumps coating his skin, and the way his toes sank in the sandy muck beneath them, he shook his head. “No, but when we get out of this, I’ll take you to one.”

  “Before this is over, I have a feeling I’m going to come to hate water. Except from a bottle…I’m so thirsty.”

  “I know, honey. Try not to think about it. Maybe we’ll come across something.”

  “A convenience store?”

  He half-laughed, grateful for her sense of humor. They
needed to keep their spirits up and their hope alive if they were going to find a way out of this. “Maybe a steakhouse.”

  “I could go for Denny’s. I love their Moons Over My Hammy.” She shivered and held their joined hands higher above the water. “Do you have any idea who’s after us?” she asked with a catch to her voice.

  “I wish I knew.”

  “Do you think your agents will listen and stay out of Florida? Oh, my God,” she gasped. “You don’t think they’d send Lola, do you? He specifically named names, but didn’t mention Lola. What if—”

  “Since I can’t answer that, let’s just concentrate on making it across.”

  She let out a frustrated sigh. “Dante’s in charge while you’re gone, right?”

  He nodded.

  “And he knows you personally pick the easier cases for Lola?”

  “Dante’s aware,” he lied. He might trust Dante to run his business while he was gone, but he preferred to keep his private life private.

  Dante knew he was seeing Cami, and that Lola was her daughter. But Dante didn’t know he’d hired Lola as a favor to Cami, or that he’d promised his fiancée Lola would never be given dangerous assignments. Lola might be well-trained in martial arts and could shoot a target dead-on, but she had a bachelor’s degree in theater, with a minor in criminal justice, and had come to him with no investigative experience. Although he’d been reluctant to hire her, she’d proved to be a quick learner and eager to please. She’d also resolved every case he’d given her. If she hadn’t been Cami’s daughter, he would have considered molding her into the agent he knew she could become. He wouldn’t, though, because if something were to happen to Lola, Cami would never forgive him.

  “If Lola doesn’t know about this, I hope to God Dante keeps her in the dark,” Cami said, and glanced over her shoulder. “Knowing my daughter, she wouldn’t be able to sit tight in Chicago.”

  Would Dante be foolish enough to send her after them? He hoped not. He didn’t want Lola risking her life. Hell, he didn’t want anything to happen to Cami. To think he’d waited all of these years to take the chance at a relationship, only to have it put through the meat grinder by a man who wanted him dead. Over thirty years ago, the last woman he’d loved had also been put through hell. Because of his association with the wrong person, Janice could have been killed. He’d known that then, had even let fellow agents he’d trusted save Janice just so he could make the arrest that would seal his career. He still regretted that he hadn’t been there for her, and how it had cost him years without their daughter.

  And what about Celeste? Had John told her what was happening? What if John had decided to come to Florida to find them? If John had, Ian would have a serious talk with his son-in-law. He loved his daughter and granddaughter and didn’t want John repeating his mistakes. John needed to realize that family came before career—something that had taken Ian over three decades to learn.

  His stomach cramped with anxiety. Actually, if any one of his agents were killed trying to save him and Cami, he’d have a hard time dealing with the guilt. They were his team, he was their leader, and the captain should always go down with his ship, not the crew.

  “Since we don’t know, all we can do is hope that my team stays in Chicago and tries to figure out who’s hunting us. If they know who we’re up against, they might be able to help get us out of this mess.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “For now, we have to consider ourselves on our own and pray that we come across someone who can help us. Maybe a park ranger will be patrolling and—”

  “And maybe we’ll find that convenience store or Denny’s. C’mon, Ian. I’m not stupid. Park rangers aren’t going to be randomly traipsing through a swamp and—” She froze and took quick, shallow breaths. “Did you see that?” she whispered.

  He followed her gaze, which moved to the left of him. “I don’t see— Go,” he ordered, pulling on her hand. At the same time, he kept his eyes fixated on the snake rippling through the water and heading in their direction. Its dark, striped body undulated across the top of the water in a way that didn’t seem natural without fins or webbed feet. He stared at its raised head—damn, the snake scared the hell out of him. He had no clue what a bite would do to them, but wasn’t about to find out. “Faster. Come on, honey, not much farther.”

  Cami panted hard as she pushed through the water. “What the hell is that?”

  He had no idea. Cottonmouth, maybe? God, he tried to think back to some of the snakes he’d learned about the last time he’d been to the Everglades. Whatever it was, the thing was ugly and couldn’t be good, and it was definitely not some pansy-assed garter snake.

  “Don’t know. It’s probably harmless. Just keep moving,” he said, propelling her forward.

  The snake veered off, swimming away from them. But there was no relief, only more fear. There would be others. Maybe not by the time they reached shore—which they were thankfully nearing—but based on what he knew about the Everglades, there would be more water. More snakes. Gators…the man hunting them.

  He glanced to Cami, read the utter fear etched on her face and forced her to move faster. The bastard would not win this. Renewed energy surged through him. The protector inside pushed forward. When they reached the shore, he shoved Cami up and over the muck and onto somewhat dry ground.

  She landed on her rear and stared out into the marsh. “And you said we weren’t vacationing in a swamp.” She panted and pushed at her blond bangs, leaving a splotch of mud on her forehead. “We need to come up with a plan. When I was in Evil that Lurks in Paradise—”

  “Please don’t get into one of your movies’ storylines.” Dragging in deep breaths, he plopped next to her and watched as the cottonmouth skimmed by. “This isn’t fiction. We’re being hunted.” He pushed himself up, then offered Cami his hand. When she didn’t make a move, he reached down and pulled her to her feet. “So here’s the plan. We get as far away from him as possible,” he said, wiping the mud from her forehead.

  Flinching under his touch, she took a step back, pulling the slippers from the bra of her camisole. “I realize movies are fiction. Before you rudely interrupted me, I was going to suggest we arm ourselves. In Evil that Lurks in Paradise, I impaled the villain with a sharp stick to the eye, after I’d nailed him with small rocks.”

  He pictured the bastard writhing on the ground, a stick protruding from his eye. “I’m sorry I interrupted you and that I was rude.” He took her hand, then quickly looked at it when she winced. “I like your plan. We’ll arm ourselves later, after we get farther ahead of him. I also want to somehow splint this finger.”

  “Last year I performed on stage—in four inch heels—while suffering two broken toes.” She winked. “I’m tough. A broken pinky is the least of my concerns.”

  “That’s my girl,” he said with a smile. “I’m so sorry you’re involved in this.”

  After giving him a kiss, she pulled on the slippers. “When this is over, you can make it up to me by taking us on a real vacation,” she said, then started walking backward toward the dense cluster of cypress trees. “Deal?”

  He took the lead, guiding them under a canopy of leaves. “Deal. I’ll take you wherever you want to go.”

  If they survived…

  CORE Offices, Chicago, Illinois

  Thursday, 5:43 a.m. Central Standard Time

  “We can account for Joseph Lawry’s whereabouts,” Owen said, stepping into CORE’s evidence and evaluation room. “He’s currently sitting in a jail cell. Apparently he over-indulged last night and was brought in on a DUI.”

  Disappointed, John looked up from the files he’d been reviewing. “Hudson just informed us that Douglas Renn can also be removed from our list of suspects. Renn is in the hospital recovering from emergency gallbladder surgery.”

  “Any word on Terrance Brisbane?”

  “Not yet.” John rubbed his tired eyes, then stretched. “With today being Thanksgiving, I’m not sure if I’ll be able to get in touch
with his parole officer. I left a voicemail. If I don’t hear back from him, I’m going to contact the detective who worked Brisbane’s case with us, see if he can do a drive-by and make sure Brisbane is where he belongs.”

  “Speaking of Thanksgiving,” Rachel began, frowning at her husband, “you need to call your mother. She’s driving me crazy. All she’s worried about is the stupid turkey. Doesn’t she realize what we do for a living?”

  “Now, honey, my folks skipped going to my sister’s this year to be with us. I’m sure she means well and is only trying to help.”

  “So to be helpful she meant to tell me my kitchen is too small, that I don’t have the proper utensils or cookware? And don’t get me started on what she’s said about the baby.”

  When Owen looked to him, John shook his head. One thing he’d learned when his parents had visited him and Celeste over the summer—keep the conversations light and the visit short, then everyone would be happy. Only, right now, Celeste was miserable. She was home alone with their daughter and enough food to feed six people. Hopefully her sister, Eden, had stayed with her today. Since Celeste still couldn’t gain a read on Ian, she was more frustrated now than the last time he’d spoken with her.

  He was, too.

  Being stuck in Chicago made him crazy. Sifting through old case files bored the hell out of him and left him with a sense of impotence. He’d rather be in Florida, doing everything he could to bring Ian and Cami home, and their kidnapper to his knees. Yes, trying to discover the man behind the hunt was the first step in helping his father-in-law, but pushing papers around wasn’t enough. He hated this waiting game and wondering if the next call from Lola would be good or bad. When she’d called from the sat phone fifty minutes ago to tell them they’d found Ian’s car, he’d been both happy and jealous. Lola and the rest of her team were actively doing something, whereas he had been sitting on his rear flipping through file after file, hoping to come across—