Ruthless Game g-9 Read online

  He poked the coyote again and laughed harshly when the creature snapped at him, the air, and finally his own leg. “I can’t have you trying to bite me, now can I?” Carlson murmured. “I wonder what will happen if I just take this one eye right here?” He plunged the tip of his knife into the flames and waited until it was glowing hot.

  Sickened, Kane eased himself into a good position and put his rifle to his shoulder, finger on the trigger as he took aim. As Carlson leaned in to take the coyote’s eye, Kane shot him through the back of his neck. It was a kill shot, pure and simple, and Kane didn’t miss. He shot the coyote, putting him out of his misery, and then shot the other two that were hanging, waiting to be tortured.

  He eased his body back and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He’d run across a few sadistic men in his time, but this man had all the makings of a killer. He was practically bathing in blood. Did Whitney know? Had he delved into Carlson’s background? If he had, he would never have allowed this man to create a child with Rose. Whitney wanted soldiers. Men loyal to their country. Men willing to fight for a cause, not kill indiscriminately.

  He had to cover his tracks, leave the body where it lay, so Whitney wouldn’t be able to know for certain who had killed his man. Whitney wouldn’t hear from either of them late the next evening, and he would send a team to collect Rose.

  Kane took care of his rifle first, as always, and then blew sand across his tracks as he made his way back toward town. Once away from the actual camp area, he didn’t worry about his tracks. He began to run, using his steady, ground-eating pace. Fargo had a good head start on him and he would be moving fast, wanting to kidnap a woman while it was still dark and get back to camp before anyone was the wiser.

  He worried about leaving Rose and the baby alone for so long while he covered the miles to the town. The sand seemed to stretch in front of him forever. He had a good sense of direction, but without a GPS or the stars, he might have had a difficult time locating the town. He expected to overtake Fargo. His entire unit was abnormally fast runners, even in full combat gear. Few could match them. He definitely should have caught up with Fargo.

  The fact that he never came up on the man meant either of two things: Fargo had taken a different route, or one of his gifts was his speed. Whitney had enhanced their physical capabilities by playing around with their DNA—something that was never part of the original contract for psychic enhancement. Had he done the same to his soldiers, even knowing they were psychologically flawed?

  Kane swore softly, swerving to find a dark patch of richer sand and dirt so he could crouch low and give it some thought. If Fargo had already made it into town, it would be stupid to follow him. There were too many ways the man could slip past him in such a wide-open desert. He swore again as he cast back and forth for signs that someone had followed this route into town. It was the most direct route, and he couldn’t imagine that there was any reason for Fargo to take any other.

  If Fargo managed to slip past him and make his way back to the base camp, he would find Carlson and the dead coyotes. “Damn it!” he said aloud. If he’d just done what he thought was best and stayed with Rose and the baby, waiting for Carlson to make his move, he would know she was safe. As it was, he had no hope of finding Fargo in the vast desert.

  The only thing left to do was to return to the base camp and hope he beat Fargo to it. Why in the hell had he ever allowed Rose to persuade him against his better judgment?

  Resolutely he turned back and began to trot across the rolling sand. He’d have to stake out the camp. The unfortunate woman Fargo returned with would have to be dealt with after the fact; it couldn’t be helped. He couldn’t prevent Fargo from grabbing her, but the man wouldn’t have a chance to use her unless he took the time to stop along the way. And was he going to force her to walk across the desert?

  Kane stopped abruptly. No way would Fargo do that. He had to have a vehicle somewhere, which meant ... He groaned and rubbed his hand over his face. What the hell was the matter with him? Of course they had someone in town. Whitney would have sent at least one, possibly two to back them up, to watch over them. He expected them to screw up. He was documenting everything in his microworld of experimentation of the human spirit. Who was watching the watchers?

  “Stupid, stupid mistake,” he hissed between his teeth and set out running back to Rose.

  He didn’t have to worry about burning himself out with running for miles. His lungs and heart were made for running. He covered the ground fast, not bothering to look for Fargo. They were in trouble, no doubt about it, and the only concern was to get out of the trap they were in.

  As he neared the subterranean house, he used telepathy. Rose! Answer me now. Are you okay? Have you been attacked?

  The lag time before he felt her stirring in his mind seemed forever. His mouth went dry and his heart pounded, not from the run, but from very real fear. Was he too late? Had someone already attacked the house?

  Everything’s quiet here, Kane. What’s wrong?

  Inside the kitchen I’ve been constructing a baby seat for Sebastian. It’s as good as we can get for his protection. Did you get the supplies into the Humvee like I told you?

  Of course. She was obviously on the move, he could tell by her voice and the distraction.

  Rose dragged on her jacket and a belt loaded with weapons and ammunition, put the baby in a front pack, and caught up her gun. I’m dressed and have the baby. Going into the kitchen now.

  Kane circled the house and continued on toward the back entrance where the tunnel emerged. I’m clearing the back, so don’t shoot me. Get the baby secured, put the weapons where I can easily reach them. You’re the driver. We’re going to blast out of there and hightail it away from the town back toward the border.

  We’re you able to free the woman?

  Of course she would be asking him that. She’d been a prisoner, and had he not accepted Whitney’s proposal to be paired with her, eventually they would have forced someone on her. She didn’t want another woman to suffer at the hands of a brutal man. He couldn’t blame her, but right now, he had to think about Rose and Sebastian.

  No, Fargo had too big a head start.

  He could feel her in his mind, quiet. Thoughtful. If Fargo reached town and more than likely went to a bar to drink, that’s where he’d grab the woman. But how was he planning on getting her back to his camp?

  Oh yeah. That was his woman. Intelligent all the way. Fargo sure wasn’t going to be dragging a woman across the rolling hills for miles. He would have a vehicle, one that was more than likely stashed for them when they had to go into town for supplies. Diego Jimenez had done that very thing, keeping his truck in a garage just waiting for him.

  Kane answered her the only way he knew how, with the truth. I think Whitney has at least one man observing Fargo and Carlson. He expected them to fail. He put all their weaknesses right in front of them. Booze. Women. You. That’s what Whitney does, Rose—it’s what amuses him. He finds a man’s weakness, and he exploits it to see if he can put him in situations that force him to either succumb to the weakness or overcome it.

  Rose sucked in her breath. Kane. Does that include the two of us? Is he playing an elaborate game with us? He tracked me all this time. He had to know I was pregnant with the child he wanted. Would he take the chance of losing the baby before he could get his hands on him? Just to see if I could truly escape him?

  Kane was coming around to the upper slope. The terrain on either side of the tunnel sloped upward, successfully hiding the fact that there was any kind of opening at all. The Humvee could run down the path between the two hills for several miles and remain unseen as long as there were no eyes in the sky. Someone would have to come to the top of the slope, where they would be skylined. Even lying prone would be difficult to keep from being seen.

  Diego Jimenez had thought out his home and his escape route thoroughly. He had shown the house and truck to Rose, but not the weapons, tunnel, or Humvee. Why?
The question nagged at him. It had been all along. Why wouldn’t Jimenez disclose everything about his home if he meant it as an escape route for Rose? Something wasn’t right. Kane knew he’d better figure it out fast.

  He went down on his belly and slithered cautiously up to the rise, careful not to push any dirt down the other side of the hill. He lifted his head just enough to peer down onto the narrow trail that led away from the house. He couldn’t see the actual entrance to the tunnel from the angle, but it didn’t matter. He was looking for company.

  I just found a letter from Diego addressed to me, Kane. It was in the locker where I was storing extra weapons. Rose sounded worried. He could feel a tinge of fear pushing its way into his mind.

  Tell me. He prompted. But do it in the driver’s seat. As soon as I give you the okay, I want you to drive the hell out of there. I’ll be coming down to you on the driver’s side.

  He took his time, searching every square inch of land around him. He was vaguely uneasy. Something was wrong; he just couldn’t put his finger on what it was. Radar was going off, but he couldn’t find any signs of the enemy.

  He thanks me for taking care of him while he was dying and then goes on to say that Whitney provided money and guns to help him fight the past government because the former president was heavily involved with one of the drug families. He said Whitney was upset that the U.S. was aiding the country in any way as long as that el presidente held office.

  She broke off, and Kane could picture her frowning as she turned the information over in her mind. He said he owed Whitney for all the aid over the years. When the new president took office and declared war on the cartels, Diego was no longer needed but felt the debt had not been fully repaid. Evidently, Whitney felt the same way.

  Kane sighed, his gaze restless as he quartered the area for enemies. So you were the last payment to Whitney.

  Something like that, yes.

  Kane could tell she was upset, maybe even crying. He wrapped her mentally in his arms, wishing he could spare her more betrayal. Whitney wanted her to break under so much betrayal. He hadn’t counted on the cartel kidnapping el presidente’s sister-in-law and niece and nephew. He hadn’t counted on Rose doing the right thing and reporting it to the authorities. He hadn’t foreseen el presidente asking the U.S. president for help or the U.S. president sending an elite squad of urban fighters into the country to rescue the hostages in secret.

  He said if I found the letter, that it meant I found the weapons he left as well as the tunnel and Humvee. He felt, after what I’d done for him, that I deserved a chance at least to get away.

  You nursed him through his dying days, Rose. He owed you.

  The sorrow in her hadn’t let up. There was more, and his heart sank. Sweetheart, I’m heading down into the open tube. Drive straight ahead about fifty feet. I’ll meet you there.

  He slid over the side like a lizard, scooting belly-down, still not trusting that his gut was giving him false information. Something was a threat, he just hadn’t identified it yet.

  Halfway down the slope, a boulder jutted out of the dirt and sand. Kane scrambled around it, heard an angry buzz, and threw himself into a roll. Splinters of rock rained down, two embedding in his pack as he somersaulted by.

  Sniper, Rose. Three o’clock. He continued rolling down the slope, knowing a good marksman could hit him. He’d never felt quite so exposed.

  The Humvee tore out of the tunnel into the open, roaring between him and the shooter as he landed hard on the flat trail. He yanked open the passenger door and dove inside. “Go. Go.”

  She stomped on the gas, and the vehicle grabbed and took off, racing away from their haven. Kane slammed the door closed and checked to make certain the baby was surrounded by the bulletproof vests they’d found in the tunnel. He’d lined the makeshift car seat with one as well. The boy was locked in facing the seat for added protection and appeared sound asleep.

  He expected the shooter to fire a few more rounds, but if the man did, nothing hit the Humvee, and Kane couldn’t imagine facing anyone but a good marksman, which meant the shooter was on the move.

  “Keep straight, sweetheart,” he instructed, checking the loads in the various weapons and placing them strategically around the Humvee. “He’s out there, and he’s going to come after us.”

  “Is Sebastian all right?” Rose shot one look over her shoulder at the baby.

  The Humvee wasn’t the most comfortable ride, bouncing them all over the place as she went over rocks and patches of thick shrubs. Just as Kane could see in the darkness, so could she. There was no need for lights. The trail was grown over with shrubbery. Rocks rolled down the slope on either side. She went right over them, gripping the wheel as it jumped in an effort to get away from her.

  “Diego gave me up to the cartel.” Rose’s voice was grim.

  “Are you certain?”

  “It’s in the letter. He told them Whitney would pay a fortune for me.” She leaned forward, peering out the window. “Apparently he has two sons who have been on the cartel’s wanted list. In return for me and his connection to Whitney, the cartel will leave his family alone. The plan is to ransom me and the baby to Whitney.”

  Kane swore through clenched teeth. Not only did they have to worry about Whitney and his men, but now they might have the cartel breathing down their necks. That information certainly ruled out going back into town.

  “I take it he left the guns and Humvee to clear his conscience before he died.”

  She nodded. “He said he couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t at least give me some kind of a chance.”

  “Why did the cartel wait?”

  “I think they were busy trying to find the men who stole their prisoners. I’m a helpless woman, about to give birth, trapped in a house in the desert.”

  Kane narrowed his eyes. “Get out of here, Rose. Right now, go up the slope. I have no idea where this trail comes out, but if he had some deal with the cartel, then my guess is, the moment you left the tunnel in the Humvee, they knew it and they’ll be waiting wherever this trail comes out. We have no idea how long it is.”

  She had already started up the slope, angling the Humvee to race up the sandy hill as quickly as possible. The heavy vehicle had no trouble going through the shifting terrain, mowing down shrubs and bumping over rocks. They topped the rise and burst out into the open desert.

  At once, in the far distance, they could see a line of lights, pinpoint lasers slicing through the darkness, bouncing crazily as several vehicles dashed over the sand. The trucks were a few miles away but coming for them. Rose angled the Humvee away from the caravan, presumably the cartel, and made a run for it across the desert.

  “Make a wide circle and head back toward the canyon where we dumped the tracking device,” Kane advised. “At least we’ll have cover there to hold them off. Sooner or later my boys will come to the party.”

  Rose nodded and then pointed toward their left. “That’s got to be Fargo with the woman.”

  A single vehicle wove drunkenly across the sand, sliding sideways, circling and careening down slopes to nearly stall out as it powered up the other side.

  “He’s drunk, Kane.”

  “Damn it, Rose.” His heart sank. She was already swerving to intercept.

  He glanced back at the line of lights piercing the darkness. Stopping to rescue a woman wasn’t on his agenda, but apparently it was on Rose’s. “Damn stubborn woman,” he hissed under his breath and tossed his rifle aside.

  Fat lot of good a gun was going to do him. He couldn’t just shoot the bastard and be done with it. Fargo was driving the vehicle, and he was going at a dangerous rate of speed. If Kane shot him, the car would overturn and possibly kill the kidnap victim. He didn’t think Rose would look too kindly on that outcome. He was going to have to actually take control of the truck.

  “Come up behind him. Match his speed.” What the hell point was there in arguing with her? She had a look of sheer determination on her fa
ce. “I just want to remind you that you’re taking our son into a combat situation.” He couldn’t help the righteous tone. He wasn’t getting blamed later on. She could take full responsibility.

  Rose shot him a quelling look. He felt the Hummer rumbling as she picked up more speed. The woman wasn’t afraid of racing. She had to adjust her angle several times as Fargo kept weaving and circling.

  Kane kept his eye on the line of vehicles behind them. The heavily armored Humvee topped out around sixty miles an hour. Rose seemed to be pushing that just a little. The heavy vehicle was scrambling his insides as it threw them from side to side and then up and down. The smaller, lighter trucks and Jeeps were definitely gaining on them, but they were still a good distance away. She had to cut Fargo off quickly, or they would be out of time.

  The soldier wasn’t paying any attention at all to the Hummer bearing down on him. He threw a bottle out the window and spun the truck twice before fishtailing several yards. Only then did he notice the Humvee running without lights coming up behind him.

  Kane was already exiting onto the roof. He could see a woman lying in a heap on the seat of the truck. He couldn’t tell if she was alive or dead, but with every bounce of the truck, her body shook like a rag doll. Rose brought the Humvee directly into position behind Fargo and his prisoner. Kane timed it, knowing he had the ability to easily cross the distance and land safely.

  He launched himself into the air, knife in hand, gaze fixed on the landing. Something hit him hard in his left side, spinning his body around, the sting turning into a blossoming pain, driving his body back and away from his landing. He hit the sand hard and rolled, only then realizing he’d been shot. The marksmen had made an extraordinary shot from some unknown location.

  Headlights caught him as Fargo wheeled his truck around, howling with laughter, as if they were playing some fun game after a drunken party. The truck bore down on him, flying at him at a high rate of speed. With the truck spotlighting him, the shooter couldn’t fail to hit him, and there was nowhere to run—nowhere to hide. He couldn’t even defend himself exposed as he was. He kept rolling, testing his body, leaving a blood trail, drawing his legs and arms up in readiness to push himself to his feet.