Predatory Game (GhostWalkers 6)

She could already feel the lessening of the violent energy as Jess got close enough to the house to draw it away from her. And how close was that exactly? Her heart thudded too hard in her chest and she bit down on her lip to steady herself. She couldn't think about Jess and what these men would do to him if they got their hands on him. She had to keep her mind on her shield, build it as strong as possible to mask her presence as she began to search for Patsy.

She concentrated on being small and invisible, fading into the background, moving slow and low to the floor. With the small glimpses she'd had of the interior of Patsy's house committed to her memory, she made her way to the sweeping double staircase that led to the wraparound art gallery. Paintings covered the walls going up the stairs and were displayed in alcoves along with sculptures on intricate pedestals. The curved gallery opened into the upstairs bed-and bathrooms, and already she knew exactly where Patsy was.

Two statues lay smashed on the parquet floor and there was a smear of blood along the wall near what was most likely the master bedroom. She heard men's voices, slightly raised, harsh tones, the sound of flesh hitting flesh and Patsy's cry of pain. Saber made it through the rubble without incident, conscious that she had no time to cover her tracks. If there was a third guard, he would see the marks of her passage, but it couldn't be helped. Terror was coming at her in waves, even with Jess's close proximity. The intent of the intruders was to brutalize, torture, and kill Patsy, and that energy was red-edged and horrific.

Saber ignored her churning stomach by reaching out to Jess, to find his calm, to feel the warmth of his mind.

Tell me.

She couldn't tell him. Nothing would stop him from coming in, and how would she ever protect both of them? I'm almost there.

Saber peered into the bedroom. One man stood over Patsy, who was duct taped to a chair, her upper body naked and water dripping from her wet hair and skin. Bruises were already forming on her face, one eye closing, and marks marred her breasts and stomach. She wept continually, shaking her head.

"I don't know what you're talking about. It doesn't matter how much you hurt me, I don't know. My brother was a Navy SEAL but he's in a wheelchair now. Whatever you're thinking he's doing, he's not. He couldn't be."

The man standing in front of her slapped her again and the second leaned in with a long-handled paddle, touching Patsy's breast so that her body convulsed and she screamed as electricity sizzled.

Saber's stomach flipped as she crawled into the room, coming up behind the first man who had slapped Patsy. He was medium height, but strong looking. He laughed and began to unbuckle his belt.

"She likes that, John. She's into pain, you can see she's getting horny. Look at her nipples." He pulled off the belt and swung it at Patsy. "Lie all you want, bitch, but you'll tell us in the end. We want names. His friends. Who he works for. Everything."

The belt left a long welt across Patsy's breasts and stomach. Her body jerked, but she didn't scream this time, she just shook her head helplessly, her eyes wild.

"Tell us or your legs will be smashed just like his, bitch."

Although the men were torturing Patsy, using depraved and brutal methods, Saber wasn't necessarily getting sexual energy from them. Even the laughter wasn't genuine. This was business. They would take Patsy apart--her body, her soul, her mind--until they knew everything she knew, and then they would kill her. It was simply business to them.

"Again, Greg, hit her again." John bent toward Patsy, catching her hair and yanking her head back. "You'll look good in stripes. Of course, we'll stop anytime you want to tell us the truth about your brother."

Patsy's gaze jumped around the room searching desperately for a way out. Saber was now in position, on the floor directly behind the man called John, who still had Patsy by the hair.

Saber placed the pads of her fingers very gently on his ankle even as her gaze met Patsy's. I'm going to have to kill him right in front of her. There was anguish in Saber's voice when she confessed to Jess. There was no choice.

Already Patsy's gaze had widened, hope pushing through pain and terror as her mind grasped the possibility of rescue. Saber blocked out everything but John's heartbeat. Finding it. Melding with it. Disrupting it. She didn't have time for finesse. She had to take him out fast, introducing a massive heart attack.

A solid kick landed in her stomach as Greg attacked, rolling her over, sending her halfway across the room, as John went down, clutching his chest. She kept rolling, aware of Patsy's desperate screams, of the man coming at her, rage on his face, swinging the belt at her body over and over. She felt the blows landing, but she didn't flinch, rolling onto her back, gun in her hand, finger squeezing the trigger over and over, watching as holes blossomed in the body, a small circular pattern in the middle of his throat. If nothing else, she was accurate.

And then everything went black and red as violent energy, anger and pain and brutal death came at her, laying greedy hands on her, grabbing her by the throat and shutting down her airway even as ice picks slammed into her skull from every direction. She tasted blood in her mouth, felt it on her face, wiped it from her eyes. She was dead, but Patsy was safe. As long as there wasn't another enemy close, Jess would come for his sister. The roaring in her head increased and she rolled over, writhing, her body beginning to convulse.

Breathe, Saber. Damn it, you fucking breathe. Jess's voice filled her mind, a clear command from a man clearly used to obedience.

It would have been comical if she weren't struggling for survival. If she could breathe, she'd be doing it. She fought for air, tried coming to her knees, but was driven back to the floor by the pain. She was losing consciousness. Maybe her life.

Jess was there, on the floor beside her, dragging her into his arms, pulling her head back and lifting her stomach. "Take a breath, Saber. One fucking breath, that's all I'm asking for."

The terrible crushing stone on her chest and head eased with Jess's close proximity, but she couldn't hear or see properly. There was real pain now, all through her body, her ribs, her back, even her face. Had the belt struck her a dozen times before she got a shot off? How many times had he kicked her? It felt as if she'd been run over by a truck.

Jess pushed her hair back as he laid her on the floor, careful to keep her body from the blood staining Patsy's ivory carpet. He turned his head quickly to assure himself that Patsy wasn't in any danger. She was fighting the tape, trying to get out of the chair, her horrified gaze on the blood dripping from Saber's eyes and mouth.

"What's wrong with her, Jess?"

"She'll be all right." He sent up a silent prayer that it was true. "Give me a minute and I'll get you loose." He breathed for Saber, trying to find a way to get air into her bursting lungs.

Saber stirred. Groaned. Her lashes fluttered. She gasped and spat blood. Rolling, she came to her knees, clutching her stomach. "Patsy?" She glanced at Jess's sister, her vision blurry. Patsy's color was off, her face pale, sweat beading on her forehead and mingling with the water that had been poured over her.

Jess steadied her. "Can you stand?"

The energy was gone, drawn away from her by Jess's presence, but the aftermath was there, pounding in her head and strangling her lungs. She fought to take a breath, and then a second. More blood seeped from her nose. She wiped away the tracks on her face, spat again to clear her mouth.

"Saber?" Jess's hands went to her hips, holding her as she staggered to her feet.

She had to hang on to his shoulder, cling to his chair in order to stay standing. "How many, Patsy?"

"Four. I saw at least four, but I thought there were more."

"I only got three of them," Saber said and wiped at her mouth. She'd never been so shaky. Killing with a gun wasn't for her, certainly not this close to the victim and not in an enclosed space.

"Sit down, baby," Jess said, his hands gentle as he pulled her onto his lap. "Just rest for a minute while I get Patsy free."

"She said at least four, Jesse.

I only got three." She pushed the gun onto his lap. "I can't use this, not again."

Saber helped Jess cut through the duct tape holding Patsy to the chair. Every movement was painful, but she forced herself to keep going, pulling clothes from a drawer and helping Patsy to put on the soft sweatshirt to cover the terrible marks on her body.

"I can't stop crying," Patsy said, collapsing onto her brother's lap. "I was so scared, Jess. They were going to kill me." She flung her arms around his neck, sobbing, burying her face against his chest.

"I know, honey," he said, trying to comfort her and watch the door at the same time. "We've got to make a run for it." He caught Saber's hand. "Can you do this? I need to know, Saber."

She forced air into her burning lungs, her throat raw, the taste and smell of blood forever etched into her senses. She nodded. "I'm good. Let's get Patsy out of here."

She didn't wait for his piercing gaze to assess her, afraid she'd collapse. Saber inched her way around the bodies, careful not to touch either of them. They were going to make a run for it. A man in a wheelchair, Saber unable to breathe properly, and Patsy tortured and traumatized. "I never realized what an optimist you are," she muttered as she peeked around the corner. "We're clear. Move fast."

The elevator, which Saber hadn't known existed, was to the left of the bedroom. It was small and hidden by the long columns that formed arches to frame the art pieces. With Patsy on his lap, Jess powered the chair with fast bursts of speed across the gallery floor while Saber guarded the stairs.

"No wonder you managed to get in so fast."

"Patsy put in ramps for me at the back entrance because it was easier to maneuver and close to the elevator if I wanted to go up to the second floor." His gaze met Saber's over Patsy's head. He was frowning. Patsy was rocking now, back and forth, making small keening sounds of distress. She looked gray, her skin cold and clammy. I think she's going into shock.

Who could blame her? Those men were terrorizing her deliberately for information on you. She wouldn't mind going into shock herself, as battered as she was. She was an assassin, and she'd killed, but not like this, not this brutal, ugly, messy death. She did it with style and no fanfare. Quiet and natural as if it were meant to happen. She even tried to lessen pain and fear for her targets.

Saber felt rather than heard movement. On the stairs, Jesse. Patsy has to be quiet. Get her into the elevator with you and I'll distract them.