Spider Game (GhostWalkers 12)

I need to know, Cayenne. We can abort if you aren't ready for this.

She shook her head. He felt her take a breath. Felt it in her throat, the pulse beating there. Her eyes were steady, all that green going multifaceted. He found his mouth curving into a smile in spite of everything. She was ready. His little warrior woman. Still, the knots in his stomach didn't ease and the terror that gripped him below all of his icy resolve was far too close.

"Ezekiel's in position," Gino reported. He slapped the top of the SUV. "Let's get it done."

Mordichai glanced back at Trap. Trap nodded. "Take us close. Gino will give the word."

Draden leapt from the fender and disappeared into the swamp to their right. She lost sight of him almost immediately. Mordichai set the vehicle in motion.

"We're just leaving him?" Cayenne asked, astonished.

Trap shrugged. "He'll catch up. He knows where we'll be, and Draden can flat out run faster than we can travel in this thing through the swamp." He smiled down at her. "He isn't small and compact like you, but he has the heart and muscle and lung capacity to travel at extraordinary speeds for distances too. You wouldn't think anyone with his muscle mass could run like he does, but although he's built like a sprinter and has explosive speed in a sprint, he can cover distances just as fast."

Trap sighed. "Whitney knew what he was doing by the time he created his fourth team. He made far less mistakes as he continued his experiments, learning from each of the teams and members with problems. He corrected most of the problems, but by enhancing them even more physically, he created a few new problems."

Cayenne nodded. "Most of his 'mistakes' were terminated, but not all."

"The men are more violent, which I'm certain Whitney was going for, but taking into account our already aggressive personalities, that was a major mistake. My team tends to keep to themselves and police the more dangerous members ourselves."

"Draden runs because he has to run," Cayenne guessed quietly, accurately. "It takes the edge off. I've seen him out in the swamp. I spin silk. I go into the swamp and create masterpieces. I can lose myself in the art and the work and it helps."

He'd given her pieces of his team, and Cayenne gave him something back. None of them had to be embarrassed, because she understood. She might not be a member of their actual team, but she was a GhostWalker. She understood the differences that set them apart. He hoped she would come to identify with them.

Gino slapped his hand on the roof, and Mordichai instantly pulled the vehicle into the swamp beneath trees. Gino was gone instantly, melting into the thick foliage as if it had devoured him. Trap, the other men and Cayenne slipped out in silence.

I'm better out there. Cayenne indicated the denser woods.

Trap didn't like it. There was saw grass, poisonous snakes, alligators, and on top of that, it could be marshy in places. He reached out before he could stop himself and wrapped his fingers around her upper arm. His fingers met his palm and his heart plunged. She never quite appeared as small as she was. On some level her size added to his need to protect her. Or maybe it had nothing to do with that and everything to do with the emotion tightening his chest.

Cayenne halted and looked up at him. For a moment, Trap swore the entire world faded away. He only saw her face--that beautiful face framed with that waterfall of shiny black hair. He loved the way the red hourglass nestled deep almost unseen and then when she turned her head, the small movement set the red on fire. He drank her in, once more tasting her on his tongue.

Kiss me. If he was going to let her go into battle, he was going to do it knowing she knew she had a reason to come back to him. He'd been a bastard, the one he'd perfected over the years, and she was confused and hurt by his behavior. He couldn't explain, not even to himself, because he didn't dare look too close at what he feared most. But he needed her to kiss him. To give him that.

Her green eyes went darker, even more brilliant and vibrant than they already were. Her gaze shifted to the men disappearing into the brush and trees.

Doesn't matter if they see, Cayenne. You're my woman. You go into battle, you go anywhere away from me, I want you to kiss me.

He needed that from her. He needed to carry her taste with him, her scent, the essence of her so that he could keep her safe in his own way.

She didn't protest. She looked confused and a little vulnerable. He liked the look a lot. He would take that look with him, hold it close, because his woman was adorable. Fucking beautiful. Lethal as hell, and that only made it all the more sweet. He held on to that thought. She was lethal. Dangerous. Capable.

Cayenne stepped close to him, one hand sliding up his chest, her head tipped up. He cupped her face. Pure beauty. All his. His thumb slid over her soft skin. He swore the pad of his thumb melted into her, she was that soft.

Trap didn't waste any more time. He took her mouth. He did it long. Hard. Pouring himself into her. Taking her into him. He used his mouth to tell her the things he couldn't say to her. When he lifted his head and rested his forehead against hers, both of them were breathing ragged.

Stay safe, baby, he whispered.

You too.

Cayenne waited for his fingers to loosen around her arm. She was trying desperately to get her wits about her again. Trap had just kissed her senseless. He was back to calling her "baby" in that soft, caressing voice that felt like a touch on her skin or a brand deep inside of her. He didn't speak to her almost the entire time in town on their shopping expedition, and he'd clamped her to his side like she was some appendage he had to guard. Now, he kissed her good-bye and allowed her to go up against a team of Whitney's supersoldiers. He was the most confusing person she'd ever met.

She hurried into the brush, making herself as small as possible. Her bones weren't like other bones. She knew that. When she was lying pinned to the table, she heard them discussing how her bones were soft and she could flatten herself and twist into impossible positions in order to get into tiny places. Her palms ached and she curled her fingers over the tiny scars in her flesh. In her bones. Where they'd pinned her to the table.

When Whitney had the labyrinths built that she was taken to in order to fight her way out, in the later mazes he had included smaller and smaller spaces for her to fold herself into. She understood they had cameras and filmed her moving through the maze, but the most she could do was destroy the soldiers when she found them. Still, she knew they watched as the supersoldiers tried to kill her and she was forced to defend her own life.

She moved with confidence through the heavy brush. Few branches or leaves touched her skin. When she needed, she drew them away from her with silk so there would be no whisper of movement. The soldiers were enhanced and, aside from their armor that often distorted their bodies, they had similar, and oftentimes, mirrored gifts that GhostWalkers had. She couldn't take a chance that one or more had enhanced hearing.

Cayenne didn't try to find the team of GhostWalkers deploying in the swamp. She knew how to fight the soldiers, and if she could cut down the odds before Trap was in place, she'd be happy. She didn't like that he was so big. He moved in silence, but he presented a large target. She couldn't think about that because it messed her head up. She didn't want to envision him in danger at all. If she did, her heart pounded, her mouth went dry and chaos reigned in her mind.

She began to lay threads of silk through the trees and bushes, thin, so thin they were nearly invisible. The sun had set and without that brightness, her silk blended into the surroundings. Little feelers, ones that would warn her when a soldier was on the move. She kept the strands low, so if broken, they wouldn't be felt.

She moved up into the trees. It was a favorite way for some of the soldiers to travel, and definitely their marksmen would go high in order to try to kill Trap and his team. She would be their first target. They were looking for her to carry out the termination order. If they managed to get any member of Trap's team, that would be a bonus. Whitney probably had cameras on all his soldiers to rec

ord the fight. She hoped she could prevent him from seeing a thing.

As Cayenne continued to spin silk through the branches, she felt the first light tremor on one of her feelers. Instantly she crawled down the tree trunk, headfirst, moving in silence, following the thread back to the danger. In those few moments going down the tree, she pushed all humanity from her mind and became pure spider.

Long ago, when she'd been first pitted against enemies trying to kill her, she realized that allowing the huntress to come to the forefront, to think of herself only as a spider, was the only way she could kill and survive intact. If she thought too much about what she was doing, knowing she was hunting human beings, she couldn't have done it, but they were enemies, sent to kill her. That reduced the battle to kill or be killed. That, the huntress could cope with.

Her enemies never hesitated. Each and every one of them hunted her through the labyrinth with only one intention. She read people. She felt the cruelty in them, or the indifference--or most especially, revulsion. They were eager to kill her. Every single one of them. She hadn't done anything to them nor did she want to harm them in any way, but if she wanted to live, she had to make the decision to kill. Whitney had forced that on her. That choice. Now he sent another team for the same thing.

She moved through the trees, following the feeler. The closer she got to the soldier, the more she knew about him. Her senses reached out along the silk. He was average height. Not nervous. If anything, he was giving off supremely confident vibrations. That gave her pause and she sank down exactly where she was. Anyone going into battle, even seasoned veterans, were cautious when facing enemies like the pararescue team--all enhanced soldiers. The termination team had to have been briefed on what they were up against. One of them had come into the little boutique and obviously recognized the men inside. They knew. So why would he be so confident?

She wasn't careless and she didn't have anything to prove. She could take her time and assess the situation. The soldier had disturbed the silken thread, but he hadn't moved. He hadn't moved. He knew the feeler was there. He had to know. That meant they were looking for her silk. Which meant he was the bait to draw her out. Their sniper had to be in the trees somewhere with a clear line to the soldier's position.

Cayenne began to move again, this time circling around behind the soldier. She couldn't get to the sniper. He could be yards away, but that didn't mean she couldn't take down the bait. There was no whisper of sound as she used a rabbit trail to make her way behind the silk.

She spotted the soldier, his back to her, his automatic weapon in his hands, ready to use. He kept sweeping the area alertly and several times he nodded his head and moved slightly to his left. A footstep, no more. Clearly following instructions. This team had telepathic communication. Not all of Whitney's supersoldiers had been capable of that.

The sniper was lining up his shot for the maximum coverage. The soldier had chosen to disturb a feeler more exposed than the others. They thought she would have to expose herself to a bullet in order to take him down.

She took a deep breath and allowed the vibrations the soldier gave off to swamp her. He was eager for the kill. Eager to be the one who finally was able to kill the poisonous spider they all dreaded so much. She'd killed so many teams, and yet he would have the glory and bragging rights once he drew her out.

She concentrated on his legs, from his knees down. Silk shot out and began to wrap him. Loose at first so he couldn't possibly feel it. The sniper wouldn't be looking at the soldier's legs. Not at first. She wrapped him fast, tightening the threads with a vicious snap. He toppled instantly, going over backward. At once she spun more silk, wrapping his arms and the weapon he held, taking care to clog the trigger to prevent him from firing.

A bullet slammed into the ground six feet behind her. The marksman was firing blind, trying to save his spotter. She didn't even flinch. She kept spinning the silk until the soldier was completely wrapped from head to toe like a mummy. He couldn't move. He could barely breathe. Two more bullets hit in rapid succession, each one closer. The sniper was guessing where she was by the way she'd wrapped her enemy.

Report in. Trap's voice was sharp, pouring into her mind.

Perfectly fine. She delivered her news abruptly, closing down the path between them. She couldn't think like a human. She couldn't be emotional. Trap made her that way. With him, she was all about feeling, and she couldn't risk it.

Cayenne moved then, retaining the strongest line, woven with several strands. As she slipped to her right, in denser cover, she flattened herself behind two larger cypress trees, staying inside the "knees" protruding from the ground all around. At some point the area had been underwater and the tree had grown the knees in order to survive. She was able to fold herself in one of the knobby barrels.

Cayenne was enormously strong, especially for her size. No one would ever attribute that strength to her, but even though she felt the heavy drag of the soldier's weight, she knew, from experience, that she could move him. She yanked hard and the body slid toward her. Not a lot. A few inches. But that was enough, all she needed. Instantly another shot rang out. This one clipped the tree, showering the area with splinters of bark. She already had the soldier where she wanted. His head and neck were in the shadows. In the foliage and behind the ring of cypress knees, she delivered the fatal bite and slipped away, leaving the soldier staring with lifeless eyes up at the sky through the leaves.

Before Trap could make an enquiry, she hastened to assure him. Still fine.

The moment she opened the path, she caught a glimpse of the "iceman." She knew his team members often referred to him by that nickname and she knew why. She'd experienced his ice, but that little glimpse enlightened her further. Trap was completely removed from what he was doing. He moved like a wind of sheer death through the trees, taking the hottest location and using a knife, getting in close and going for the throat just as she'd advised.

Her heart stuttered, realizing what he was doing. She didn't like the fact that he put himself in danger without so much as flinching. He simply took point and went after the other soldiers aggressively. She wasn't a woman to swear, but she managed a few curse words as she moved locations, crawling along the ground until she was well back in the cover of the swamp where she could stand and begin to run.

She went on the hunt now. She knew the sniper would have to move, but she had a good sense of where he was. She could determine where he would go. In the distance she heard a gun go off, and her heart nearly stopped and then began to pound.

Trap. She had to know. She had to be human in spite of her resolve, because the thought of him injured was more than she could bear.

Fired at Gino. Missed. Gino was already on top of him. You don't want to miss Gino when he's coming at you. Two down.

Three. I'm going after the one in the trees with a rifle.

Gino says a five-man team hit us. That means with the sniper we've got one other man. Be careful, Cayenne, their focus is on getting you.

She knew that already and she wasn't afraid of them. Spiders didn't have fear, just purpose, and she was hunting now. She ran fast, making no sound, not even allowing a whisper of movement against the brush. Where she could, she used silk to aid her, swinging from branch to branch to cover greater distances above the denser foliage.

When she was close to the tree where the sniper had set up shop, she climbed high, going up the trunk fast, flattening her body against the bark to keep from presenting a target for anyone to see should they be looking. Again, because she was so slight and didn't weigh much, there was no movement of branches or leaves--and that was what saved her.

The breeze was slight and it shifted just enough to warn her. He was still in the same tree. He hadn't moved. She cursed again, silently this time. Very silently. The sniper, the moment he knew his spotter was dead and he'd given his location away, should have moved. Would have moved. She'd walked into a second trap. This time the sniper was the bait.

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; Breathing very slow and evenly, she stayed very still, flattened against the tree trunk, hidden in the crotch of two branches. They were thin, barely there, but large enough to shield her body from view--if she didn't move. Whoever was on the business end of a rifle had a scope and he'd be able to see her quite clearly if she moved. This close, it was a huge risk to reach telepathically to Trap. Sometimes just that psychic energy could draw attention with an enhanced individual.

She closed her eyes and drew in another shaky breath. The sniper was just out of her reach, but so close if he turned his head and looked up he could possibly see her. She could use silk, but even that was risky. The shooter had to be close enough to ensure he wouldn't miss, with a good view of the sniper and tree. The tree didn't have much foliage. The sniper was hidden from view below due to the way the trunk split. He was in the very lowest point, his rifle set up along the thickest branch. He could almost lie down, and clearly he was comfortable.

He wasn't nearly as confident as his first spotter had been. He didn't like being the bait. He was used to lying up somewhere, far removed from hand-to-hand combat, and taking out his enemies from a distance. He certainly wasn't used to being the one drawing out his foe. She smelled sweat on him. Determination and that same revulsion of what she was. He especially disliked her after what she'd done to his spotter.

She had always relied on herself. She went over every move she could make in her mind. She was in sight. The wrong breeze. Her hair moving. Anything at all might draw attention. Just being in such close proximity meant eventually the marksmen would look up and spot her. She practiced jumping on him in her mind. Jumping, biting and rolling off the tree. The problem was, she didn't know which way to roll.

Trap. She touched his mind delicately. It was the only play left to her until she knew where the man with the rifle was. She hoped Trap would understand that ultra-fragile brush in his mind.