Spider Game (28 page)

“Diego has one of the longest shots recorded, over a mile in a wind. He’ll do,” Wyatt said. “He thinks Ezekiel outshoots him, but they’re close.”

“Ongoing argument,” Mordichai said. “Those two don’t like it and give us the bird whenever we have it, which makes it all the more fun.”

Cayenne instantly recognized the easy camaraderie. She’d never had that. She wished she had, but then, she wasn’t certain she’d know what to do with it if she did. Being so close to so many people was difficult for a prolonged period of time, especially in the close confines of the vehicle.

“Make it a throat shot. Sometimes they use guards in their mouths, woven webs that fit in like a mouthpiece. Same with eye covers. If they’re wearing that, the throat is your only bet. They tried using shirts and wraps, but they couldn’t produce enough silk. Orb spiders working night and day, millions of them, couldn’t produce it. Braden and Whitney…” She trailed off, one hand going to her own throat in a defensive position.

She became aware of eyes on her. Every man, even those outside the SUV, was watching her. She swallowed hard, trying to push memories away. The door in her mind yawned wide and threatened to pull her into that nightmare.

Baby.
Trap said it softly into her mind. Intimately.

There he was when she didn’t want him there. Not then. Not when the nightmares were pushing in. He had to stay removed from her. Remote. Not the Trap she knew. The other one. The ice-cold jerk.

Don’t. Not now.
 

She knew she sounded like she was choking, because she was. She couldn’t pull her hand from her throat, not even when she knew all of the men with their piercing eyes saw her fingers trembling.

Trap shifted subtly, but his bulk blocked her body from the others. His hand slipped over hers, fingers curling around her throat, over her hand, warm and strong.
Whatever they did to you, baby, know that they can’t touch you now. It’s over. They won’t get their hands on you. You aren’t alone this time. You aren’t locked up.

She nodded, forcing air through her lungs. Trying to close the door in her mind that had cracked open so the nightmare could spill out. Trap was intelligent. She could weave silk. He had to know – or at least guess – what they had tried to take from her. He couldn’t know how painful those sessions had been, pinned like an insect to a table, pierced with needles while men laughed cruelly and made fun of her. She let her lashes sweep down to veil her eyes, trying to hide the terror and agony from Trap. She didn’t want him to know the things they’d said about her. What she was – not human – a monster.

They always shot her full of a drug so she couldn’t move. She could barely breathe, but they kept her aware. Always aware. For a moment she couldn’t breathe. Strangely, it was Trap’s hand over hers, his large palm completely enveloping hers, so that the pads of his fingers were against her skin, his thumb sliding along her jaw.

“Thanks for the tips, Cayenne,” Wyatt said. “I want updates the moment you take out the team,” he added to the others.

“We’ll need cleaners,” Trap reminded. “We can’t have bodies lying around in the swamp. Reporter hanging around.”

“Has he followed you?”

“That he has. He’s hanging back, but he’s pulled over. Draden’s going to incapacitate him right before we move out again.”

Cayenne swung her head around, looking out the back window. She’d missed that. She didn’t miss much, but being inside the vehicle surrounded by Trap’s team was difficult for her and she hadn’t been as alert as she should have been.

Trap swept the pad of his thumb along the vulnerable line of Cayenne’s jaw. He leaned close to her, giving her his warmth. His body’s shelter and protection.
You okay now, baby?

He’d seen the door in her mind, that glimpse of hell. He had his own door, his own hell, but the thought of Cayenne’s small body pinned to a table, needles holding her down in the way an entomologist would pin an insect, filled his throat with bile. His stomach churned, knotted, a terrifying rage building that needed to be kept under the glacier of ice protecting the world around him from the havoc he could wreak.

Her gaze came back to his. Caught there. He held his breath. She was beautiful. Exotic. He couldn’t imagine that other men hadn’t seen her the way he did. She might be pint-sized, but she had lush curves perfectly proportioned so that along with the hourglass in her hair and embedded in the tight curls covering her mound, her figure was a perfect little hourglass.

He still had the taste of her on his tongue and he knew that would never go away. Exotic like she was. Ruby lips, full and inviting, it was difficult to keep from taking advantage right there, knowing she was hurting, especially with the taste of her filling his mouth. He wanted this over, wanted her safe. Facing her going into battle with them sickened him, but at least he could control this, be there to look out for her, instead of her trying to do it all herself.

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 record 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.