Ultimate Prey (Book 3 Ultimate CORE) (CORE Series) (33 page)

He took off his pack, then brought out a flashlight. “I’m only putting this on for a sec. If Jackass has turned back, I don’t want to give away our location,” he said, angling the beam to the dirt.

Tears filled her eyes when she counted three sets of prints. “Thank God,” she said, then took his hand and moved the flashlight. “It’s just the two of them again.”

He turned off the light. “We’ll follow their trail as best we can, then we’re going to have stop for the night. I don’t want to risk losing their tracks. We’ll pick them back up first thing in the morning.”

“But we could be so close.”

“Or not.” He stowed the flashlight, in exchange for the GPS. “In about a mile, we’re going to come to water, and not the kind you can walk through.”

“They’d be forced to find a way around it,” she said, disappointed and worried.

He stowed the GPS, then put on the pack. “They’re going to have to stop and rest for the night, too. Hopefully they’re smart enough to know not to make camp near the water.”

“This body of water, do you know it?” she asked as they continued moving forward.

“It’s hard to tell, but based on the GPS, it looks to be about three miles west of the Gulf and another eight or nine from Everglade City.”

“We’ve traveled less than nine miles? That’s it?”

“Considering what we’ve been up against, I’d say that’s pretty good.”

They hiked for another twenty minutes. When they reached another section of mangroves, Ryan stopped. “This will work. I’m not tackling those trees in the dark.” He glanced around and shrugged off his pack. “We have dry ground over here, and enough trees and bushes to keep us hidden in case Jackass does come this way.”

She looked up. The sky had turned a dark, purplish, midnight-blue, but there was just enough light to continue on without stumbling over the mangrove’s roots. “I think we could go a little farther.”

Although her legs needed a break and her eyes were having a hard time adjusting to the darkening woods, she wasn’t ready to set up camp. Spending the night with Ryan didn’t bother her. She trusted him. But with no distractions, like a book, a TV or footprints to follow, her mind might continue to wander down a destructive path. She didn’t want to think about how her mom and Ian were doing, half-clothed and without food, water and shelter. She didn’t want to consider Jackass’s execution, or her own future. Or what Ryan would think of her if he knew just how pathetic she truly was, especially after what he’d told her about that day in Pakistan.

“In another fifteen minutes, you won’t be able to see the hand in front of your face,” he said, taking her pack off her shoulders. “Don’t be nervous about sleeping in the same tent with me. I told you, my mom raised us to treat women with respect. Besides, bugs and BO aren’t sexy.”

She half-laughed. “I’m not nervous and I don’t smell.”

“You sure about that?” he asked with a grin.

While he removed the tent from her pack, she turned her head toward her shoulder and sniffed her armpit. So she no longer carried a shower-fresh scent, but it wasn’t as if she smelled like a farm animal. She grabbed her sweatshirt out of the pack and quickly pulled it over her head.

Ryan had already started setting up the tent, which was much smaller than she’d envision. “Need help?” she asked.

“No thanks. I’m almost done.”

A few minutes later, he stood and took a step back. “It doesn’t look like much, but it’ll keep the bugs and animals off of us.”

She hugged herself. Now that they’d stopped moving, a chill settled over her. “What about Jackass?”

With a grin, he reached into his pack, then pulled out the last tripwire they’d found. “If he’s stupid enough to hike through the Glades at night, we’ll hear him coming.”

Everglade City, Florida

Thursday, 8:12 p.m. Eastern Standard Time

John stared out the window of the old Suburban. Darkness had set in, making the colorful Christmas lights lining many of the homes and trees they drove past stand out. Although he wasn’t from Chicago, he’d lived there for the last eight years and had grown accustomed to the Windy City’s winters. Seeing Christmas lights on palm trees seemed…unnatural.

“How much longer until we’re at the rental house?” Hudson asked. “It’s a little too tight back here for my taste.”

Since their gear, and whatever else Ryan had stowed in the back of the truck, had taken up too much space, the three of them had been forced to cram together in the backseat.

“Five minutes,” Harrison said from the passenger seat. “Have you guys talked to Lola and Ryan?”

“Before we got on the jet.” Dante shifted on the seat and elbowed him. He let out an impatient sigh. “They’re doing good.”

John kept his head turned toward the window. Sometimes Dante could be just as manipulative as Ian. During the flight to Florida, John had suggested they tell Harrison their plan. At this point, the computer geek and his Russian counterpart were now just as criminally culpable as the rest of them. They’d removed evidence from a crime scene and, although following Dante’s orders, had not reported Jordan Marquette’s death. Harrison needed to understand this, and be given the chance to either join them or head back to Orlando with Vlad.

As for the Russian, since he wasn’t a legal citizen and was also a wanted man, whether he remained involved or not wouldn’t have any effect on his situation. Now that he’d met the man, he wouldn’t mind having him along for when they went after Steven. Just as big and muscular as Steven, and, according to Harrison, just as deadly, Vlad could prove to be a valuable addition to their team. At least for this mission. He couldn’t imagine Ian ever considering hiring a man who was wanted by nearly every U.S. government agency, the Russians and Interpol.

Harrison glanced at Vlad, who made a quick turn down a single lane road. “Me and Vlad were talking…are you planning on letting the cops know about the dead body decomposing in Fort Lauderdale?”

“Eventually,” Dante said.

“When?”

“Soon.”

“Vlad told Harry he smell the shit of bull.”

“Yeah, you were right. Stop the truck.”

When Vlad slammed on the breaks, Harrison turned, then leaned over the seat. “You guys might not be happy about me working for CORE, but I do, and there’s jack shit you can do about it. We also have the truck, and have become quite chummy with one of Ryan’s boat captains who you will need if you’re planning on going into the Everglades.”

“There’s no need to threaten us,” Hudson said, his tone flat.

“Harry not threaten. Harry make football field level.”

Harrison sighed, and looked to Vlad. “It’s level playing field, and that’s not what we’re trying to do.” He glanced to them again. “I’m not threatening you, not really. But before we keep going, I think me and Vlad deserve to know what you know. Ryan’s buddy, Barney, should have a right to know, too. I want Lola and Ian found, and I want this Weir guy stopped, but I refuse to risk going back to prison because you three decided CORE doesn’t need to let the cops in on what you’re doing.”

“Are you finished?” Dante asked.

“Yeah, why?”

“Vlad, start driving.”

The Russian shook his head. “No. Dante must tell Harry and Vlad.”

“Just tell them so we can get to the house,” John said.

“Plus, we have to do something with Steven’s car,” Hudson added.

“Fine,” Dante conceded. “Start driving.”

As the truck began moving again, Dante gave Vlad and Harrison the short version of what they’d discovered Steven had done in Illinois, along with what could happen to every one of them and CORE, should the authorities find out. By the time he’d finished, Vlad had pulled the Suburban onto a gravel driveway.

The Russian shifted into PARK, then killed the ignition and looked to Harrison.

“So?” Dante asked. “What do you two want to do?”

Harrison shrugged. “What choice do we have?”

“Harry always have choice.” Vlad looked over his shoulder at Dante. “Vlad have seen execution of many man. Some deserve, some do not. Will your government execute this Weir?”

“If he’s tried and convicted in a federal court, or extradited to Florida—since this state still has the death penalty—I believe it’s possible.”

“That’s not the problem, Vlad,” Harrison said, leaning his head against the headrest. “The problem is that if we get busted—”

“Vlad not dumb like bunny,” the Russian shouted. “Vlad know.” He faced Dante again and pointed. “You execute Weir, not Harry. Not Asian Lola. They not killers.”

“What about you?” Dante asked.

“Vlad flip to new leaves.”

Harrison chuckled. “You’re so full of shit. He’s totally fucking with you.”

“This isn’t a joke.” John opened the door. “Next time you want to fuck with us, do it when we’re not dealing with—”

“Serious John no understand,” Vlad said, stepping out of the truck. “Vlad not fuck with you. Vlad serious about Harry and Asian Lola.”

“Yeah,” Harrison said, walking toward the carport. “I’m not killing anyone, and I don’t think Lola should be put in that position, either. Vlad, on the other hand…well, put it this way. He doesn’t like when innocent people are murdered.”

Vlad nodded his blond head. “Killing woman is bad.”

Confused and irritated, yet relieved they had Vlad with them, John walked through the carport, then turned toward the back door.

Dante met him there and eyed the broken glass. “Just the way Ryan described it,” he said, then turned to the other men. “Let’s make this quick. Vlad and Harrison, check Steven’s car. With everything else he’s left behind, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s left the keys inside.”

“If not, the Mazda’s old school, so I can probably hotwire it,” Harrison said.

“Good, we need for it to disappear.” Dante looked to him and Hudson. “Let’s search the house. I don’t want any evidence that something went down here.”

An hour later, they met at the truck. Harrison had managed to start Steven’s Mazda with keys that had been left in the visor, then he drove it back to Ryan’s airboat business, where they would meet him. Meanwhile, Vlad had removed the door to the laundry room, which had been torn off its hinges, and had put it in the back of the truck. They’d also removed bullets from the wall, along with the ones they’d found on the floor, shell casings, the flares and bulletproof vest. Tomorrow morning, Harrison planned to return to the house to change the broken locks, replace the laundry room door, as well as the back door’s busted window. He would also patch and paint the walls. When Ian and Cami returned to the house, or if a cop came through, there would be no trace that the home had been invaded.

Vlad climbed into the driver’s seat. “Vlad need food. We go to boat house, yes?”

John beat Dante to the front passenger seat, then slid inside. “Can we bunk there?”

The Russian nodded. “Ryan have room up the stair,” he said, and once everyone was inside, he backed out of the driveway.

John didn’t know how Harrison could spend time listening to Vlad. The man’s broken English gave him a headache. Or maybe it was lack of sleep. During the flight over, he’d tried to shut his eyes, but every time he did, he pictured Elaine Weir and Raymond Anderson. Now that he’d seen the rental house, he could add the terror Ian and Cami must have endured to his insomnia list.

Within ten minutes they pulled into a parking lot. Across the building was a sign that read,
Cap’n Ryan’s Airboat Tours
. He looked over his shoulder at Dante. “How long ago did Ryan retire?”

“Seven years. Like me, he’d had enough.”

John knew when to pry, and now wasn’t the time. Ryan’s reasons for leaving were none of his business. Still. “Big change going from being a SEAL to catering to tourists.”

“I like it,” Hudson said. “This is the life. Maybe I can talk Eden into moving to Florida. She can write while I take people out on boat rides. No more snow or freezing temperatures. Just sunny skies and beaches.”

“Do not forget alligator and snake,” Vlad said, parking the truck. “Barney warn Vlad of twenty feet python and mutant albino alligator.”

John chuckled and stepped out the truck, then went to the back end to grab his bag. “I think he’s bullshitting you.”

The Russian shrugged, then hefted the damaged door from the truck. “Maybe. Vlad not take chance.”

After Harrison introduced them to Barney, the craggy, late-sixtyish, one-eyed Vietnam Vet made them burgers from the small kitchen attached to the souvenir shop. When Dante had asked about Steven’s car, Harrison had looked to Barney, who shrugged, then said, “It’s taken care of. By midnight there won’t be a trace of it left.”

Dante hadn’t pressed the man, but John could tell he’d wanted to. Hell, he’d wanted to know where the car was, as well. The orange Mazda could link back to Steven, and possibly CORE.

Once they’d eaten, Harrison showed them where they’d sleep, which wasn’t
up the stair,
but on the floor of the souvenir shop—apparently Barney had dibs on the second floor bedroom.

Not ready to sleep on the hard floor, John went onto the porch and made a quick call to Celeste. He’d told her everything was fine, and that they were scheduled to leave for the Everglades first thing in the morning, after they made contact with Ryan and Lola. What he hadn’t told her was how they’d wiped a crime scene clean, or that they’d planned to kill Steven. He hadn’t been sure how Celeste would feel about any of this. Hell, he wasn’t sure what to think about it himself.