Kadan allowed his face to darken and his eyes to smolder. “No one can beat me under the water. I’m a fucking fish.”
“I’m a shark. So let’s do it.”
Kadan slammed his door shut and snapped away the cigarette he hadn’t smoked. He didn’t bother to look around; he could feel the GhostWalkers, his team, closing in to back him up. He went with the ex-SEAL, following him along the dock until they came to a high-powered boat. He stepped on without a qualm, showing off a little, that same cocky smirk on his face.
“You really think you can beat me?” Kadan asked.
In answer, Frog started the boat and took off over the waves to open water. They passed a small fishing boat just a few miles offshore and Frog killed the engine. Without a word he stripped off his shirt and tossed his shoes aside. He waited for Kadan to do the same before he started the boat again and began angling it back toward a small inlet.
He slowed the boat considerably, weaving through the water as if going through a minefield. Kadan glanced into the water and his gut tightened. A small colony of the dead stared back at him. This was Frog’s own private play-ground. Frog stopped the boat, reached into a cooler, and swung around.
Kadan was on him before he could complete the turn, catching the wrist of the hand with the small needle protruding through his fingers. “What’s wrong, Frogman? You have to drug me to beat me? I’m not one of your civilians who trust you.”
“Who are you?” Frog demanded.
Kadan held him close. “The executioner.” The knife concealed in his other hand came up, sweeping across Frog’s throat, cutting deep. He shoved the body face-first into the sea, right over the top of the man’s victims as they stared upward just inches from the surface of the water. Kadan wiped the knife clean, slipped it into the sheath, retrieved his shirt, and tied his shoes around his neck before going into the water. The fishing boat picked him up. Nico gave him a hand into the boat.
“At least seven victims in the water. We need a cleaner in here fast,” Kadan said.
“I already radioed them,” Nico answered.
“One down,” Kadan announced.
Kadan lifted binoculars to his eyes and stared down at the woman walking out of the bar, her legs showing to their best advantage in a short tight skirt and high heels. She had a sway that said she was on the prowl and a body that promised heaven. Her husband, Ken Norton, stood a foot away from him, a scowl on his scarred face as he watched his wife open the door to a sleek little low-slung car.
“He took the bait,” a voice droned into the radio.
That would be Jack, Ken’s twin brother. Both men were GhostWalkers from the SEAL team and lethal with or without a weapon. Both were protective and possessive, and Kadan couldn’t believe his ears when Ken announced that his wife, Marigold, was going to lure the Italian Stallion out into the open for them.
A very handsome man, large and well muscled, followed Mari from the bar, gliding across the parking lot fast, coming up on her from behind. He grabbed her arm and swung her around, slamming her against the car door, shoving his knee between her legs. “You bitch, you can’t embarrass me like that and just walk away. You were flirting with me. You’re nothing but a rich bitch cocktease.”
Kadan felt the sudden tension in all the men. Ken’s face hardened, but he didn’t break cover. The rifle went to his shoulder in a smooth, practiced motion, and Ken never missed.
Marigold leaned back against the car and smiled lazily up at the Stallion, one hand barely lifting off the top of the vehicle to signal the GhostWalkers to stand down. It was too public. There were others in the parking lot.
“Hey, lady, you all right?” That was Ian. He looked imposing, carrying himself like a man who knew how to fight and didn’t mind doing it. He began walking toward them.
“Mind your own business,” Stallion snapped, but he stepped back enough to allow Marigold to yank open her door. She fumbled with the keys, dropping her purse, then slammed the car door and roared away.
The Stallion picked up her purse, flipped Ian off, and unhurriedly sauntered to his car, whistling. He got in and sat for a moment, looking through Mari’s purse. “Yeah, rich bitch, you’re going to get a visit from a real man tonight.” The bug in her purse picked up audio with no problem. He drove out of the parking lot whistling.
“Pull back,” Jack said. “Team Two, he’s heading your way.”
Kadan was already in the SUV, Ken and Jack leaping in from either side.
“I’m taking that ass out,” Mari hissed into her radio.
“You walk away,” Ken instructed, his voice pitched low and firm. “Put the car in the garage just as we planned and walk away. We’ll do the rest.”
“He rammed his knee in my crotch,” Mari bit out between clenched teeth. “He rapes women and then he kills them. I read Flame’s report on this guy. I’m—”
“You’re going to follow the plan,” Ken snapped. “This is a mission and we run it by the numbers, we don’t make it personal. Walk away.”
There was an edge of a threat to his voice now, and Kadan rather admired it. He might have to use that particular tone for his own woman.
Mari muttered something under her breath and Ken shot his twin a small grin. They followed Mari’s car out to the edge of the city. The house had been well scouted, far back from other houses, where no one would hear or see anything. A perfect place for Stallion to spend the night tormenting a woman. He would come calling and he would feel safe.
“I’ll take this one,” Ken said as they watched Mari walk away from the garage and into the trees where Nico waited for her with her rifle.
Kadan shook his head. “I can shield. We don’t want him warned. It really doesn’t matter who kills the son of bitch as long as he’s exterminated. I’ll take him down.”
“That son of bitch put his fucking knee in my wife’s crotch. I’ll cut his heart out.”
“We stick with the plan. I don’t blame you,” Kadan said. “I’d feel the same way, but we stick with the plan.”
Jack nudged Ken. “I’m telling that little hellcat you married that you were going to deviate from the plan and make it personal.”
“You keep getting me in trouble with her, and one of these days you’re going to wake up with your throat cut,” Ken said.
Kadan slipped out of the car shaking his head. He wasn’t the only one with woman problems. He waited in the bedroom where both Mari and Ken wanted to be. There was no moon, and he put on soft light in the living room and a night-light in the bedroom as a tempting beacon. As a further lure, he added music, not too loud, but loud enough that if Stallion came calling, he would think Mari wouldn’t hear him as he entered.
“He didn’t wait long,” Jack said. “He’s driving up without lights, heading around to the back of the house.”
“I’ve got him,” Nico intoned.
“In my sights,” Mari reported.
Kadan waited in silence, the familiar calm taking him. He welcomed the ice that set him apart. No nerves. Much easier than facing Tansy tracking the killers. He preferred this way. Quick, clean. It was done.
Noises indicated Stallion had entered through a window down the hall and was padding toward the bedroom. Kadan stepped to the side of the door. The knob turned and the door creaked as the intruder pushed it open and stepped into the room. He didn’t notice the tarp on the floor, he was too intent on the sleeping form in the bed.
“Hey, bitch. I got your invitation and came to party,” Stallion announced, taking a step toward the bed and the rolled up blankets.
Kadan came in behind him, a shadow only, his hand flashing with a quick, deep slice, and Stallion staggered, tried to turn, gurgled and dropped to his knees, then face planted. Kadan stood still waiting. It took a few minutes before the pulse was gone. “It’s done. We need the cleaner.” There could be no discovery before their schedule was complete. He wiped his blade clean and walked out to join the others.
“Two down,” Kadan said.
“There is no way he’s going to fall for this,” Gator said. “The man would have to be an idiot. Come on, Kadan. We need another plan.”
“If necessary we’ll go into his house and slit his throat, but get your Cajun ass out there and tie yourself up.”
“Why do I have to do this?” Gator demanded.
“Cuz you’re such a pretty boy. Our photographer isn’t going to fall for one of us as the tied up model,” Nico pointed out.
“Dumbest plan you’ve ever come up with,” Gator grumbled. “Offering myself all trussed up like a Christmas turkey to a serial killer who likes to torture people isn’t too smart.”
Nico flashed a small grin. “Thought he wasn’t going to take the bait.”
“Well I happen to
be
the bait, and I saw the video of the rats eating those people alive. I’m not going to go out that way,” Gator declared.
“Don’t you worry, Bondage Boy,” Nico assured him. “I’ll have a bullet trained on him the entire time.” He frowned a little, muttering beneath his breath. “Hope my rifle doesn’t malfunction, been acting up a bit lately. I keep it around for sentimental value.”
Gator suggested something anatomically impossible and stalked off. Kadan signaled to the others to get into position. Flame had tracked the high-end camera and found that Snake had his own photography business. Kadan set up an appointment to photograph a low-budget male bondage series for a private collector in an abandoned warehouse.
Snake took the bait without hesitation after finding out no one would be there but him and the two models, late at night. It was extremely low budget and they weren’t paying for much other than the bondage props. Snake’s voice had indicated immediate interest, and he’d been seen twice scouting the location earlier in the day, noting how remote it was.
Gator and Jeff took up their positions, shirts off, barefoot, Jeff tying Gator as Snake strode in. They introduced themselves and Snake set up his lights and camera.
“Make it tight. You want this to look real,” he said. “I’ll tie you,” he added and caught up the ropes. “We’re going to have fun tonight.” He knotted the rope, pulling until Jeff’s circulation was cut off.
“Hey, man, too tight,” Jeff complained.
Snake drew a knife and grinned. “That’s the least of your worries tonight. I’m going to film the real thing, slicing little pieces off of you. People pay big money for films like this.”
“Yes, they do,” Kadan said quietly from behind him. The knife slid in, a kill stroke. Kadan helped the body fall to the floor. “Three down.”
Blade was a man with a huge superiority complex. He wanted control and he wanted to be in charge. He enjoyed being cruel and publicly humiliating others. Kadan doubted very much that he’d take public humiliation well. Kadan hadn’t worn a uniform in a long while, but he donned his, immaculate as always, and with Gator and Ian, entered the bar where Blade was known to hang out.
Blade held court at the pool table, women hanging around him and several men standing respectfully to one side. When he missed a shot, Kadan snickered. Gator and Ian both grinned, shaking their heads, turning away in dismissal to lean on the bar and whisper. Several of the women noticed the three broad-shouldered men and moved away from Blade to investigate the newcomers. It didn’t take long for Blade to realize he was no longer the center of attention. He threw his pool cue down and stomped over, shoving one of the women out of his way. The woman stumbled and would have fallen if Ian hadn’t caught her.
Kadan reached out in a blurring motion and casually and quite brutally slapped Blade. “Keep your hands off the lady.”
Blade’s face turned cherry red. A sound escaped his throat, much like the roar of a freight train. He’d been Special Forces, enhanced, his body in shape, he hadn’t even seen Kadan move and the blow had rocked him. A few of the men he’d ridiculed in the bar snorted derisively but hastily stilled their laughter when he glared around the room. Opening and closing his fists, he jerked his head toward the door.
“You want to take this outside?”
Kadan looked him up and down, his expression remote, dismissive. “You’re not worth my time. I just came in for a cold brew. Someone else can teach you manners.” He turned his back and swallowed the rest of his beer. “You ready?” He glanced at his watch. “I’ve got to be at the old airstrip in about twenty minutes.”
Ian and Gator drained their glasses and they swaggered out, leaving Blade smoldering, furious, poised on the edge of violence.
“He’s on you,” Jack’s voice said softly. “Following about a mile back. You hit the son of a bitch pretty hard, bro. There’s no way he isn’t going to try to kill you.”
“Stay on him, Nico,” Kadan said.
Jack, Ken, and Mari were all also snipers with reputations. Blade would have four rifles trained on him when he moved in to confront Kadan. Gator and Ian would be backing him at a much closer range.
Once at the old airstrip, Kadan slowed his vehicle, allowing Gator and Ian to bail out, running along the brush, crouched low to make their way to the hangar where they both got into position. Ken, Mari, and Nico had already gone high. Jack joined them as soon as he was able, coming in from the north and finding a nice limb to stretch out on.
“In position,” Nico said. “He’s approaching.”
“I see him,” Kadan said, and turned, a scowl on his face as the car roared up, sending plumes of dirt into the air.
Blade burst out of the car, slamming the door. “You son of a bitch. You think you can just bitch slap me in front of everyone and walk away clean?”
“No, I thought you’d follow me,” Kadan said, his voice as cold as ice.
Blade paused, hand gripping his knife. He looked around, suddenly realizing that he was alone with someone who had eyes like twin glaciers. “Who are you?”
“The name’s Kadan. Kadan Montague. I’ve been called Bishop in some circles. You give the GhostWalkers a bad name. You give every soldier a bad name.”
Blade’s face lost color as he began to back toward his car. “Why’d you bring me out here?” he demanded and threw the knife.
Kadan dove for the ground, rolling, coming up right at Blade’s feet, knife sliding upward in a standard figure eight, cutting arteries along the way. He kept moving, getting away from the pumping streams of blood, his face dispassionate, his heart rate never going up. He watched the man die and then he turned and walked away.