Ultimate Prey (Book 3 Ultimate CORE) (CORE Series) (20 page)

“That’s cool. You must’ve had an interesting childhood living in LA, rubbing shoulders with movie stars. How come you didn’t get into acting?”

How many times had she been asked that question? People automatically assumed because her mom was an actress and her dad had been a stuntman, that she’d follow in their footsteps. “Acting wasn’t my thing,” she lied. To explain to Ryan the major trial and errors she’d gone through during her adolescent years would only lead to embarrassment and bad memories.

“Now that surprises me. With the way you look, I’d bet the camera would love you.”

Okay, now
that
comment surprised her. Ryan had brought up her relationship with Harrison, but hadn’t acted interested in her. Of course, they were busy hunting Jackass and trying to rescue her mom and Ian. Maybe another time or place she’d…what? Date an airboat captain from Florida while living in Chicago? Not likely.

“Thanks,” she said, wishing she hadn’t lied about her dismal and miserably short acting career. Then again, why bother? Why bring up the past when this man wouldn’t be in her future and she should be concentrating on the present?

“You’re welcome.” He wrapped a hand around a tree trunk and checked his watch. “We’re making good time and should be out of this soon.”

“Thank God,” she said. Her calves burned from steadying herself on the tree roots and she hated how climbing over them while carrying a pack on her back had slowed their pace.

“I met Sylvester Stallone when I was twelve. Me and my brother even got his autograph.”

His random admission made her grin. “I’ve never met him, but my dad did when he worked on the set of the second
Rambo
.”

“No kidding?”

“He did a few films with Chuck Norris and Jackie Chan, too. I’m sorry, I sound like I’m bragging.”

“Not at all. You’re proud of your folks. There’s nothing wrong with that. My dad was a carpenter and my mom did housekeeping.” He shrugged. “Nothing glamorous, but they took care of me and my brother. I’m proud to be their son.”

Damn, he was sweet and so different from the men she’d dated while living in LA. Those men, for the most part, had turned out to be the product of parents who’d spoiled them. They’d carried with them a strong sense of entitlement, which had been a total turn-off for her.

Ryan hadn’t given her the impression that he expected to be handed the world. According to Dante, he’d been a Navy SEAL, then had gone on to start his own business. She wouldn’t be surprised if the cords of muscles lining his toned, tanned body were the product of hard work, not hours at the gym. Even his big hands were rough and calloused.

Ahead, bright sunlight indicated they were finally nearing the end of the mangrove forest. Relieved to stand on firm ground and anxious to pick up her mom’s and Ian’s tracks, she hopped from root to root. “You should be proud,” she said, her breathing growing labored as she moved quickly. “I know you said your dad is gone, but I bet he and your mom were just as proud of you. Navy SEAL, business owner…”

“Slow down before you catch your boot in a root and twist an ankle,” he called from behind her.

“No way. I want out of these trees.” Minutes later, she jumped off the last ugly root and landed on soft ground. Slightly lightheaded from the quick sprint, she paced back and forth, trying to bring her heart rate down and catch her breath. “I could use a drink,” she said, and wiped sweat from her forehead with the hem of her shirt. “I’d love something strong, but water will do the trick.”

“Lola, don’t move,” he shouted.

She stopped and looked toward Ryan, who pulled off his pack as he jumped to the last root. His easy smile had disappeared. His face had grown tense, his eyes filled with alarm.

Terrified by his sudden change, she swallowed hard and glanced down at her boots, expecting a python or gator to be inches from her feet. When she didn’t see anything but vines, dead leaves and dirt, she decided she’d rather be closer to Ryan, than whatever might be behind her. Gaze on him, she took a step forward.

“No,” he yelled, and rushed forward in a leap, just as her boot snagged against a thin, wire.

She landed on her back, Ryan’s arms cushioning her fall. She squeezed her eyes tight and burrowed against his hard body, fisting his shirt and waiting for the inevitable. Seconds passed. His heart pounded against her chest and his breath came in ragged bursts along the side of her face.

He raised his head, but kept his body flush to hers and held her tight. “Are you okay?”

Fear and relief made her momentarily mute. Warm tears streamed down the side of her face and into her hair. She should have obeyed him. If whatever she’d triggered had exploded, she could have maimed or killed them. What if one of them had lost a limb? Could they be rescued in time? And what about her mom and Ian? Would anyone from CORE resume the search for them? What if she’d died? Would Ryan keep going? If the situation was reversed and he’d been killed, could she hunt Jackass by herself? Her head buzzed with questions she wouldn’t have to answer—for now. Next time, and based on the tripwire, she wouldn’t be surprised if there was a next time, Jackass’s booby trap might actually work.

She met Ryan’s gaze, saw the concern in his eyes, then quickly let go of his shirt and wrapped her arms around his broad back. She might not know this man but she didn’t want anything to happen to him. He’d assumed the worst and selflessly shielded her body. That he would give his life to save hers amazed and humbled her.

He hugged her back. His warm breath caressed her ear as he let out a sigh. “Promise me the next time I tell you not to move, you’ll listen?”

She let out a shaky chuckle. “I promise.”

He lifted his head, then used his arm to brace himself above her. The sunlight haloed his dark blond head, and with the way the shadows played across his face, his eyes took on a gunmetal shade of gray. He moved his hand from beneath her, then smoothed the hair that had escaped from her ponytail away from her cheek. “I’m going to blame every new gray hair on you,” he said with a grin.

He dipped his head, and for a split second she thought he might kiss her. But then he simply pressed his forehead against hers. She might have met him less than six hours ago, but she would have welcomed a kiss. She wanted to be reminded that she was alive. That she wasn’t living a nightmare alone.

“I’m sorry if I crushed you,” he said, then rolled off her body and leapt to his feet. He helped her from the ground and, once she was standing, he wrapped a strong arm around her waist. “Are you sure you’re okay? I didn’t mean to tackle you.”

She brushed the dirt from her pants. “I’m fine.”

He stared at her as if he wanted to say more, then nodded. “Good. Now can you please not move while I check out the tripwire?”

“Promise,” she said, and grabbed his arm before he walked away. “Thank you.”

“For taking you down like a defensive guard on the line of scrimmage?” he asked with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

She touched his chest. “For risking your life. If that wire had caused an explosion you could have—”

“But it didn’t.” He settled his hands on her hips. “We’re both good and now we know he’s setting traps. Either he knows we’re here, or he assumed CORE would come after him despite his threats.”

“Right. It’s just…” She shook her head, but couldn’t shake the guilt of knowing she’d put their lives in jeopardy. “I’m sorry. I’ll definitely be more careful.”

He took a step back. “If Harrison and Vlad were still with us, I would have done the same for them.” He gave her a quick grin. “As much as I try, I can’t take the SEAL out of me.”

As he walked over to the tripwire, she stared at his back. Embarrassment suddenly outweighed her guilt. Of course she’d been foolish to think he’d risk his life for only her. This was a man who used to put his life in danger for a living. He’d been trained to protect and serve his country. The way he’d admitted to doing the same for Vlad or Harrison…oh, boy, the way she’d hugged him and clung to him as if they were lovers brought on an awkwardness she didn’t need right now. Her efforts needed to remain on tracking Jackass, her mom and Ian, not that fleeting moment where she’d felt as if she had mattered to him, and definitely not the way his hard body had fit snugly against hers.

“Looks like this is homemade,” he said, crouching near the mangrove roots. “He used fishing line and clothespins to rig the tripwire. Come see.”

She took off her pack, then moved next to him. “What are the red wires on the clothespins?”

“I’m assuming they’re what’s used to transmit a signal. In other words, when you tripped the wire, the fishing line was pulled from the clothespin, which likely activated the signal.”

“So there was never an explosive attached.”

“No,” he said, taking the clothespin apart and removing the wires. “This is an interesting DIY job. I’m wondering what he used for the receiver.”

“I’m wondering how he would know it was triggered by people, not animals?”

“That I don’t know. It could be that he planned to rig it to an explosive and ran out of time.” He dropped the clothespin, then stood and picked up his pack. “Let’s rehydrate and head on out.”

While he retrieved the water, she turned and let out a huge sigh of relief. A nice big open field of grass stretched between them and another set of mangroves.
That
she could handle. “This is awesome. We can sprint through the field and hopefully pick up tracks. How long ago did we hear the shots?”

“It’s been about forty minutes.”

Her hope returned as she walked toward the field. “Maybe he shot at them from the field while they were escaping into the mangroves. He could have missed them altogether or, like you suggested, he was shooting to scare, not kill.” Ryan stepped next to her and handed her the jug of water. After she took several long swallows, she handed it back. “Again, I doubt he’d go through all of this trouble to kill them right away. What would be the point of the hunt?”

“Agreed,” he said, stowed the water, then pulled the pack over his shoulder. “About this field…”

*

Sunlight gleamed off the edge of the machete. Outraged that Ian’s army of assholes hadn’t obeyed him, and imagining what it would be like to use the machete on any one of their necks, he sliced through the vines and saplings. Breathing hard, using the machete as an outlet for his hatred and rage, he swung the blade again and again.

His hunt wasn’t going as he’d hoped. First, he’d lost the screamer and the prick’s tracks in the dense mangrove forest and had overshot them by nearly a third of a mile to the west. When he hadn’t found their trail, he’d moved east and had picked up their footprints near the sawgrass marsh. Paranoid they’d disobey and try to backtrack to the road, he had taken ten minutes to set up the tripwire as a precaution. Now he was glad he had.

Now he knew someone else was out there with them.

He swung the machete again, then jerked back when several birds flew from a nest.

“Fuckers,” he mumbled, and pushed through the heavy vegetation.

No, the real fuckers were the assholes trying to save his prey. While he wasn’t sure if there was one, two, or more of them trailing behind, they’d pay.

Dearly.

He also knew for certain no animal had tripped the fishing line he’d planted. The receiver in his pocket now had no transmission whatsoever, meaning some
one
, not somet
hing
had pulled the wire used to discharge the signal. Last he checked, there were no animals in the Glades dexterous enough to unwind a wire. Unless gators or boars or whatever the hell else might be roaming along the marsh shore had suddenly sprung fingers, that meant he had more CORE agents to kill.

And where the hell were Ian and Cami?

That goddamned gator patrolling the edge of the sawgrass marsh had been a total pain in his ass. He’d wanted to put a bullet in its ugly head, but he hadn’t wanted to set off another round and let the screamer and prick know his location. Instead he’d been forced to waste more time, stalling, shifting positions until he had been able to latch onto one of those spindly tree roots and climb out of the marsh.

The machete lodged into a tree instead of a sapling. With a grunt, he pulled it free, then bent, placed his hands on his knees and drew in deep breaths. He should have trained harder for this excursion. While he’d added plenty of muscle over the years, he’d lost his endurance and hated how quickly he’d become winded. The heavy pack he carried didn’t help, but was a necessity. He needed the extra water, food, an inflatable kayak and weapons for the hunt. To think he used to carry the same amount of weight when he’d been a Marine.

He stood upright. Screw that. He was
still
a Marine, not some pussy who couldn’t handle the jungle.

Although his muscles burned, he swung the machete again. What he needed was to exterminate the assholes behind him. But to turn back and go after them would give Ian and Cami the opportunity to slip away.

And that wasn’t going to happen.

He could push harder and faster, catch up with them and put an end to the hunt.

No. Too soon. Ian needed to know what it was like to suffer. The Everglades might be a bitch, but Stateville Correctional Center was a cunt. He should know—he’d spent the past six years of his life in the hellhole.