Lethal Game

by Christine Feehan

  “What the fuck, you cheating bitch? You think you can run away from me? I told you I would find you anywhere. I’m not alone this time, and your little fuck buddy is a dead man.”

  Malichai knew immediately who he was dealing with. He had known Owen Starks before he ever went to work for Whitney. He sent the appropriate SOS to his teammates, especially in light of Starks’s declaration that he wasn’t alone.

  He sprang from the chair, using enhanced strength, uncaring who might see him. Both knees bent to his chest, he flew across the room. At the last possible second, his legs shot out, his boots slamming into Owen’s chest, with the force of what had to feel like a freight train. The blow drove the man back so hard he hit the wall, actually splintering the wood. The thud was loud, the force of the jolt shaking the entire house. Two pictures came crashing down, glass shattering across the floor.

  Amaryllis staggered to her feet and rushed to Malichai, trying to drag him away. “We have to go. You can’t fight him. Really, you can’t fight any of them. They have some kind of armor.”

  Malichai was well aware that Whitney had been experimenting on his supersoldiers. Owen had a thin steel-like plate either beneath his clothing or beneath his skin, but the armor was much like Cayenne’s silken shield. When he’d kicked Owen, he’d felt the shock of it rush right back up his body. He’d luckily landed on his feet, but his leg was shaky.

  He’d run into Whitney’s supersoldiers before. They rarely lasted long, certainly not the five years Amaryllis had said Owen had worked for Whitney. They were tough and they were jacked up. “I want you to go to Trap and Cayenne. Stay there until I come for you.” He made it an order. She’d told him there was some kind of reason she couldn’t kill Owen Starks. She didn’t know why, but he was fairly certain Whitney had made it impossible.

  “Honey, if you stay here and fight, I’m staying with you.” Amaryllis didn’t look at him, only at Owen as he lumbered to his feet, shaking his head and rubbing his chest.

  He barely glanced at Malichai. His gaze kept straying to Amaryllis as if he couldn’t help himself, or as if he didn’t think Malichai was any threat to him. That puzzled Malichai. They knew each other. They’d met. He would have known Malichai was a huge threat.

  “Come with me now.”

  She shook her head. “You hurt me. I’m not going anywhere near you.”

  “You deserved what you got. Whitney wants you back. You belong to me and you know it. If you care for one single person at this place, you’ll come back; otherwise, there’s going to be a lot of dead people here.”

  Malichai knew most of the guests would be returning in another hour if they kept to their usual patterns. He took a few steps to his right to see if that would draw Owen’s full attention. So far, Owen didn’t seem to recognize him. Owen had always been a smart man. Quick on his feet. Huge ego. He would take in everything and everyone. He wouldn’t miss the fact that his opponent was Malichai Fortunes. They had a past. Malichai had a reputation—an even larger one than Owen. Something wasn’t right.

  The door banged open hard enough that it rocked on its hinges. A very large man filled the doorway. He looked first at Amaryllis, and then his gaze shifted to Malichai. Amaryllis made a single sound of distress and caught at the back of Malichai’s shirt, tugging, trying to drag him backward away from the two huge men—men who appeared to be twins. Men who looked exactly alike. Owen Starks didn’t have a twin, but this man was an exact replica, right down to the tiny little scar that dissected his eyebrow.

  “This isn’t good,” Gino said, as he joined Malichai. “Are there any others?”

  “I’ve got that feeling in my gut that says yes,” Malichai said.

  Gino turned, his gaze running over Amaryllis. “You should get to Cayenne and Trap.”

  He made it sound like Cayenne might need Amaryllis, and Malichai was grateful for that. In truth, Cayenne was lethal as hell and she would protect Amaryllis.

  “I’m not leaving Malichai. In any case, have you noticed, I’m a bit of a distraction? I’m betting when the real deal walks in, I won’t be. That’s how you’re going to know the difference.”

  Malichai wanted her gone, but he also wanted to get Whitney’s clone supersoldiers out of Marie’s beautiful home before it was destroyed. He had to get past the goon filling the doorway. She was being stubborn, refusing to retreat. He took another step to his right, sliding his bad leg and struggling to keep from wincing. His opponents would find out soon enough that he had a weakness.

  “Amaryllis, come here,” the soldier in the doorway said and snapped his fingers at her, as if that would make her mind him.

  “That’s not going to happen,” Malichai said very quietly. “Amaryllis is engaged to me. We’re getting married in a few days. You need to tell Whitney to back off.”

  “Fuck Whitney. Amaryllis is mine. She had no business running off. You need to mind your own business before you get hurt.”

  Owen the first continued to shake his head and rub his chest. He didn’t look at Malichai as he took several steps toward Amaryllis. His brows came together, and his mouth twisted into a frown. “It doesn’t have to be this way, Amaryllis. No one has to get hurt.”

  “I’ll take this one,” Gino said. “He looks bigger and I haven’t had much to eat today. You can have number two in the doorway.” He cracked his knuckles and grinned.

  We need to get them outside of the house if possible. This is going to get nasty, Malichai said. If any more show up, we’ll need reinforcements.

  He nodded at Gino, skirting around Owen the first, who barely glanced at him. Owen the second continued to be conflicted, not moving from the doorway but going back and forth between staring at Amaryllis as if his life depended on it and flicking his gaze at Malichai from time to time.

  Malichai heard the thud of fists as Gino attacked behind him, galvanizing him into action. He hit Owen the second much the same way he’d done Owen the first, wanting to knock him out of the doorway. As his boots hit the second supersoldier square in the chest, he heard Amaryllis cry out. It was a gasping, mewling sound, not loud.

  He was already in midair, but he had the flexibility of a cat and he turned, landing in a crouch, almost exactly where Owen the second had been. A third Owen had Amaryllis and she was fighting him in earnest. This had to be the real one. The one he knew from all those years ago. Cunning, calculating, out for himself, this man would use anything or anyone to get what he wanted, including lethal force—and he wanted Amaryllis.

  Amaryllis was limited by the small area she had to fight in. Gino couldn’t give her any help because he was engaged with Owen the first. The supersoldier was slow, but he was a tank with enormous strength, and he knew how to use it. Amaryllis looked very small in comparison to the real Owen, but she wasn’t giving in and she knew what she was doing. She slammed her foot into his ribs, coming under his armor and then spinning in midair to drive her foot down and across his cheek, nearly slamming him to the floor. He had no choice but to let go of her to break his fall.

  The two stood facing each other, Owen between Amaryllis and Malichai.

  Owen grinned at Amaryllis. “Did you really think you’d get away from me?”

  “I managed to escape when you bragged no one could,” Amaryllis pointed out, backing up slowly to give herself a little more room.

  Malichai could see she was trying to reach the main common room. It was larger and would give her more of an area to avoid Owen. She couldn’t afford for him to get his hands on her. She would have to fight him with hard, quick, running strikes. She’d had a lot of time to think how she would take Owen down. Malichai didn’t want her to do it alone.

  He started toward Owen, when he was hit from behind. The blow felt as if an oak tree had fallen across his back. He staggered forward, nearly fell and caught himself, whirling around to face Owen the second. The supersoldier rushed him, thinking to ta
ke advantage while Malichai was off-balance, but Malichai’s body was always in perfect balance. He kept turning and caught the soldier coming in with a hard roundhouse kick to the side of the face, on the chiseled jaw, slashing downward, to drive him to the floor.

  Agony blasted through his body. His leg felt as if it had shattered. The pain was so severe, his stomach rebelled, bile rising fast. He fought it down. There was no way he could put that foot on the floor, not yet, not when the explosion of pain was so blinding. He breathed deeply and forced his mind to control his body. He felt Owen the second’s eyes on him and knew he had to put his foot on the floor, or the soldier would discover his weakness.

  He backed farther into the room, knowing he had to get rid of Owen the second so he could aid Amaryllis. He palmed the knife he kept in his boot and sent a small, silent apology to Marie that her floor was going to be one hell of a mess. He kept the blade hidden along his wrist and the handle in his fist, where it was unseen. Deliberately, he backed away from his opponent, seemingly stumbled, and instantly the supersoldier was on him, his massive fists coming straight at Malichai’s face. Getting hit wasn’t an option. One punch and he was going down.

  Malichai slipped under the punch and slammed the blade of his knife deep into Owen the second’s armpit. It was one of the few areas he knew wasn’t protected by armor on Whitney’s supersoldiers. He twisted the knife as he brought it out and leapt back as blood sprayed across the room.

  Owen the second howled, a long wail of obscenities, and then he rushed Malichai, furious, determined to kill him. He had the original Owen’s temper, and it showed. There was fury in his eyes, so much so the eyes glowed a deep red, making him appear diabolical. His big fists punched the air several times around Malichai’s head. Once his left hand punched the wall, driving a hole the size of a grapefruit into the wood. Blood spurted from his knuckles and from under his armpit, but he didn’t seem to notice.

  Malichai kept moving in a loose circle, forcing Owen the second to turn continually with him like a dancer. All the while Malichai waited for another opening. It took patience. He had to block out all thoughts of Amaryllis and what was happening with her, of Marie’s guests returning, or of Cayenne and the babies in the basement. He had to think only of his opponent and wait for that one chance to bring him down. He knew Gino was working with that same patience to be able to kill Owen the first.

  “What the hell is going on here?” Billy Leven’s voice cut in. “Malichai, do you want me to call the police?”

  “Stay back,” Malichai said, inwardly cursing. The last thing he wanted was for Billy to see Gino fighting with him, or either of them using GhostWalker enhancements, which they were going to need in order to defeat Owen Starks and his clones.

  “Amaryllis.” Billy almost breathed her name, shocked that anyone would try to punch her, especially a man who appeared to be twice her size.

  “Don’t get near him, Billy,” Amaryllis warned.

  Malichai ducked under Owen the second’s attack and plunged his knife into the supersoldier’s right armpit, again twisting the blade as he brought it out. Blood pumped out with each ragged breath and rushing step the clone took. The walls looked as if an artist had gone a little crazy painting dark red stripes everywhere. Owen the second shuddered and then abruptly sat on the floor, rocking back and forth.

  Malichai left him there, rushed past Gino, who was essentially using the same strategy on Owen the first that he’d employed on Owen the second, but the first supersoldier appeared to be a little faster and definitely smarter than the one Malichai had to deal with.

  Billy came up behind Owen and pulled his gun, using a two-fisted stance. “Stop right there. If you don’t, I’ll shoot you.” The warning was real. There was no doubt that he would do exactly what he said.

  Malichai dove to bring him down, to get him out of harm’s way. Owen was on Billy before Malichai, slamming him to the floor, taking the blast in his chest, his armor absorbing the bullet. He grabbed the gun and turned it on Billy as Malichai landed on Owen. Malichai caught Owen’s big head in his hands and tried to wrench it.

  “Owen, don’t!” Amaryllis cried out.

  Owen actually shifted his gaze to her, smiling, as he pulled the trigger. He never seemed to notice Malichai using his enhanced strength to try to wrench his neck. Billy’s chest exploded into blood and mangled flesh. Owen dropped the gun on the floor right into the pool of blood, all the while looking at Amaryllis. Billy fell back, his gaze on the two combatants as Owen punched Malichai’s injured leg repeatedly in an effort to dislodge him.

  Amaryllis raced around the two men rolling on the floor to try to stem the blood flowing like a river from Billy. His gaze jumped to her face. He lifted his hand and touched a tear there. “Tell Malichai to get out, his friend too. Get out.” His body shuddered and he was dead.

  Amaryllis closed her eyes for a moment and then turned her head slowly to see Owen punching Malichai’s leg. Not only was Owen enhanced, but he was bulked up with immense muscles in his arms and chest. The power he generated when he smashed his fist into Malichai’s leg was enormous, but Malichai showed no reaction. He kept applying relentless pressure to Owen’s neck. Owen was beginning to actually feel it now, that impressive power Malichai had.

  She stood up slowly, skirted around Gino, who feinted toward Owen the first with a knife and then circled to his left, giving her the room to get past him. She did, moving without haste. She had the gun in her hand. Billy’s gun. The gun Owen had used to shoot a man who had nothing whatsoever to do with Whitney or his pairing schemes. His breeding schemes. Or this latest cloning mess. What did it even mean? Was she supposed to go home with three Owens? One was bad enough.

  She went right up to Owen and pressed the gun to his throat. He went still instantly. His throat was one of the few vulnerable places on him. Malichai held his head so it was impossible to move. There was a sudden stillness in the room.

  “It would be murder, Amaryllis,” Owen said. “You pull that trigger and it’s murder.”

  He didn’t struggle. He just waited, his fate in her hands. A small taunting grin slipped over his face. He knew she couldn’t pull the trigger. She tried. She tightened her finger, but something stopped her every time she made the effort. She wanted to scream.

  A gloved hand reached over her shoulder, took the gun from her. Rubin pushed the barrel against Owen’s throat. “Never had any trouble distinguishing between a varmint and a gentleman. Where I come from, we get rid of the varmints.” The voice was very soft and carried a slight accent. “Ma’am, I’d appreciate it if you’d look away.”

  When Amaryllis looked up at him blankly, Rubin gently laid his free hand across her eyes and he squeezed the trigger. The bullet tore through Owen’s throat and out the back of his skull. For good measure, Rubin angled the barrel upward and fired a second time to make certain he killed the supersoldier. He dropped the weapon onto the floor and walked away, in keeping with his role of a hit man if anyone was watching.

  Malichai sank back onto the floor, breathing through the horrendous pain in his leg. Marie’s floors were covered with blood, but the house itself was still intact. Billy was dead, and that was a huge loss. He’d liked the man. Even respected him, but Billy had been mixed up with Callendine and they’d needed him. They’d had a tail on him, but he’d shaken it before he’d met up with his contact, and now they weren’t going to have another shot at finding out just what Callendine planned. They could assume he was going to try to blow up the San Diego Convention Center. And they could assume he was going to do so on opening day, but assumptions, when it came to people’s lives, didn’t cut it. They preferred real data.

  Gino joined him, streaks of blood on his chest and face. He flashed a quick grin. “Three of those bastards were three too many.”

  “I agree.” Malichai took Amaryllis’s hand as she sank down beside him.

  It was too l
ate to do any cleanup before the guests arrived. The Navy sent out their people fast, and they quickly cordoned the entire front of the bed-and-breakfast off so all guests had to come through the back door and couldn’t go down the hall to the front. The Navy investigators dealt with the police and fielded questions as they surveyed the damage to the inn. It had been kept to the front room and would have to be repaired as soon as possible.

  “I expect poor Marie will never have any more guests,” Amaryllis said. She leaned her head against Malichai’s arm.

  “Don’t underestimate people’s morbid curiosity. Most of these guests will return. These are great stories to tell their friends and families, even if they have no idea what’s going on.”

  “If Billy’s involved, why would he warn you to leave? He said to tell you and your friend to get out. He was very urgent about it.”

  “We’re certain they plan on having Rubin carry out their hit man’s plans to use the bed-and-breakfast as a diversion for whatever the real target is. If all the cops and fire trucks are here, Callendine and his crew will have plenty of time to do whatever it is they’re planning and then get away clean. Billy was a man who believed in service to his country, so it’s odd that he got caught up in all this. He clearly doesn’t want Trap or me to be here when the place is burned to the ground,” Malichai mused.

  “Can you get up?” Gino asked.

  Malichai had been afraid all along someone would ask that question. They were in the way of the Navy people. He shook his head. “Not without a lot of help.”

  17

  There was complete silence in the room. Only the sound of the clock could be heard, and even that was muted. Rubin was the big gun in the room. He’d slipped in, a shadow in the darkness, hidden from all inn guests.