Ultimate Prey (Book 3 Ultimate CORE) (CORE Series) (6 page)

“We were instructed not to contact them or anyone else.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Let me tell you what we know,” Dante said, then explained the situation.

After he’d finished, Ryan scratched the back of his head. “He’s going to
hunt
them? I grew up here. I know the Glades. Sorry, but there’s no way in hell those two are going to survive more than a day or two…and I’m being generous. We’ve got gators, panthers, bears, snakes—”

Dante sighed. “I know.”

“And good luck trying to keep dry. If they’re not wearing the proper boots, they’re gonna have a serious case of trench foot. The bugs are miserable, finding clean water will be a bitch, too.” He reached into the nightstand and found a pen. “Give me the address and I’ll head over to the house. If they’re gone, I’m not sure how much help I’ll be. Without knowing where this jackass decided to start his
hunt
, it’s going to be tough figuring out where to start tracking them.”

After Ryan finished writing the address on the inside of his wrist, Dante said, “Look, I’m not going to pretend to know anything about the Everglades, and the people I’m sending don’t either.”

“What people?” Ryan asked, then stood, opened a dresser drawer and pulled out a pair of lightweight cargo pants. “I thought you said this guy told you no one from CORE was allowed down here.”

“He did, but he only mentioned the names of some of our agents. He doesn’t know about the ones Ian hired over the past two years. They’ll be on the company jet in about thirty minutes, make a quick stop in Orlando and should be landing at Everglades Airport around five-thirty or six. Is that far from you?”

“About four miles. I’ll pick them up.” Ryan unlocked the gun safe he kept hidden in the closet. “I’m not far from the rental house. I’ll call you when I get there and let you know what I find.”

“If they’re still there, don’t engage. Call the sheriff first, then me.”

“You should’ve called the sheriff the moment this guy contacted you,” he said, grabbing a t-shirt off the floor. He’d known Dante for years and knew the man wasn’t stupid. Before the jackass had started threatening them, Dante and his team should have had officers surrounding the house.

“We had a thirty-minute window to work with before he made contact. Once we did speak with him, none of us—including me—took his threats lightly. I don’t want him coming after my pregnant wife.”

He shoved on a boot. “Jessica’s pregnant?” After what had happened to Dante’s daughter, that was kick-ass news. Dante and Jessica were good people and deserved a second chance at having a kid.

“Almost six months along. Ian’s more than a boss to me, but I’m not going to risk Jessica’s life. The rest of the team are in the same boat.”

“Except the crew you’re sending down. Gotcha.” He finished lacing his boot, then tackled the other. “I’m ready to head out now. Lemme go and I’ll call you when I know something.”

“Thanks, Ryan. Remember, don’t engage.”

“I heard you the first time.” He strapped on a shoulder holster and fought a wave of bitterness. “Despite what others might say, I know how to follow orders.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Sorry, wasn’t trying to be a dick,” he said, sliding his Smith & Wesson .38 Special into the leather holster. Dante hadn’t been part of his SEAL team, but another. And, like many of the other men he’d served with, Dante didn’t know the truth behind his last mission, only the rumors and accusations that had nearly cost him life in prison. “I have no intention of putting your boss and his gal in danger.”

“Thanks. For what it’s worth, I would have followed Bateman, too.”

Cole Bateman. His former team leader. Before guilt could take root, he bent and gave Sadie some love. The guilt gripped him by the balls anyway. Cole wasn’t the only one who’d gone to prison for him.

After giving the Golden Retriever one final pat, he left his bedroom. “Yeah, he’s a good man who got a raw deal,” he said, grabbing his keys off the kitchen counter. “I’ll do my best to make sure your boss doesn’t. Call you soon.”

“Wait.”

“Something else?” Ryan asked as he left the house and headed for his truck.

“I’m not a pussy.”

He chuckled. “No shit. I’ve seen you in action.”

“Right, but I want to be there. It’s just…something’s off with this guy. My head’s telling me there’s no way in hell he could come after all of us if we don’t do as he says, but my gut is telling me otherwise.”

“
Always
go with your gut,” Ryan said, wishing he had the night his brother had murdered another man.

Ian and Cami’s Rental House, Everglade City, Florida

Thursday, 2:07 a.m. Eastern Standard Time

Even with duct tape covering her mouth, Cami’s screams still pierced his ears. “You need to shut the fuck up.” He gritted his teeth and tossed her over his shoulder. Like a mermaid trapped in a net, she squirmed and bucked her body, kicking him in the gut. “I swear to God, if you don’t stop moving I’m going to make it so you never will.”

She stilled, but kept shrieking. Damn it. An ice pick to the ear would be better than listening to the whiny bitch. He couldn’t think straight, couldn’t remember what needed to be done next.

Kill her.

He should. He should pull out his knife and slit her vocal chords. But he liked the challenge of hunting both Cami and Ian. He’d hunted humans in the past, but those men and women had been trained soldiers. These two weren’t. He wouldn’t have to worry about them sneaking up on him during the night—they’d be too preoccupied with trying to escape his pursuit. Unlike animals, humans could think and rationalize. They let their emotions control them. Like animals, they could also become desperate once they were hungry, thirsty and scared. And that was what he looked forward to the most. Watching how they handled themselves in the wild. Witnessing Ian’s desperation as he tried to save his mate.

He dropped Cami in the backseat of Ian’s rented Range Rover, then quickly tied her wrists and ankles together. With the way she continued to scream he wouldn’t be surprised if Ian killed her before he ever had the chance to put a bullet in her head.

“Damn, are you annoying,” he said, slammed the door shut, then rushed back into the house. Ian remained where he’d left him bound to a kitchen chair. He glanced around the kitchen and thought about what he’d brought with him to the house. He’d already stowed his hunting gear in the back end of the Range Rover, along with his laptop and cell phone. But his gut told him he was missing something. He checked his watch. It had been over twenty minutes since he’d disconnected the Skype call. Thanks to the bullet that had grazed his upper left arm, he’d spent ten minutes longer than he’d planned, dressing the wound Ian’s gun had caused. If Ian’s assholes went against his orders and sent the cops out to the house, he needed to leave now. And if he had left something behind, it wouldn’t be anything incriminating. That evidence was in the SUV with the screamer.

Without hesitation, he drew his gun, then placed it at the base of Ian’s head. “I’m going to cut your bindings. If you try anything, I’ll kill you now, but I will continue with my hunt. How do you think Cami will do out in the Everglades all by herself?” Still keeping the gun on Ian, he pulled the knife from the ankle harness. “You don’t want that, do you?”

Ian shook his head.

“Good,” he said, slicing through the cord he’d used to keep Ian strapped to the chair. “Now be a good little bunny and hippity hoppity.”

He helped Ian hop out the kitchen door and toward the carport. Once they reached the Range Rover, he opened the rear passenger door, saw Cami laying on the backseat, tears streaming down her face, and shoved Ian inside. After he hogtied Ian, then bound them together with the additional cord he’d left in the SUV, he climbed out, and slammed the door. As he rushed to the driver’s side door, he glanced at his watch again. Twenty-three minutes since the call.

He started the SUV, shoved the gear into DRIVE and looked in the rearview mirror. “Are you ready for some fun?” he asked, drifting his gaze from the driveway to the couple. “I know I am.”

Minutes later, he exited off the narrow lane leading away from Ian’s rental house and on to the highway. Not a soul was on the road. Just him, his gear and the two lovebirds in the back seat. “Won’t be long now,” he said, passing a yellow sign indicating he should look out for panthers crossing the highway. “I hope your minions listened to me. Hunting down your teams’ families would be a total pain in my ass.” He glanced over his shoulder. Too dark to see Ian or the screamer’s faces, he turned his attention to the highway again. “But I always make good on my threats.”

Considering what he’d done before heading for the Glades, he honestly didn’t want to risk being seen in Chicago. The cops would, if they weren’t already, be looking for him and he preferred his freedom. Actually, after spending the past few days in the Everglades, he might never leave. Between the lush, dangerous environment, the winding channels that ran deep into the heart of the Everglades, and the uninhabited islands and wilderness, he could drop out of sight and never be seen again—unless he wanted to.

Which he didn’t.

Ian Scott was no better than a bully on the playground. Arrogant, selfish and only concerned about himself and CORE, Ian had, in a matter of seconds, destroyed his life. Thanks to Ian, there was nothing left for him. No family, no friends and no career.

Only suffering.

After he turned off U.S. Route 41 onto State Road 29, he rubbed his cheek where the ski mask had begun to itch, and tightened his jaw. Then there was Dante. That pompous prick had reduced his mission to nothing more than
revenge killing
. The dick didn’t know what he was talking about. Hunting Ian had nothing to do with revenge and everything to do with proving who was the better man. Ian thought his wealth and connections had made him superior over others. Strip away the expensive three-piece suits, flashy cars and corporate jet, and Ian was nothing but a pathetic, manipulating little man with a Napoleon complex. And he would be the one to knock Ian off the throne he valued above anyone and everything. He would be the one—

“Son of a bitch,” he shouted, swerving the Range Rover onto the side of the road. Ian and Cami grunted as they hit the back of his seat. He shoved the gear into PARK, then killed the ignition. After climbing out of the vehicle, he popped open the backend and rummaged through his backpack. Once he found what he was looking for, along with a flashlight, he opened the Rover’s hood. Heat from the engine made the mask he wore stifling. Pulling at the material, he tugged it off his head, then shoved it in his back pocket. He slowly waved the wand, a device he’d accidentally forgotten to return after he’d been discharged from the Marines, over the interior. Nothing.

He slammed the hood, then crouching, ran the wand along the Rover’s undercarriage. When the wand flashed red, he grinned. “Gotcha.” He reached up near the back, passenger side wheel-well and grabbed hold of what he was looking for. “Too easy,” he said, flashing the light against the small GPS tracking device. Standing, he aimed the flashlight toward the heavily wooded area surrounding the state road. He’d meant to leave the device at the rental house, but wouldn’t risk going back there now. He could turn the Rover around and return to U.S. Route 41, except that was time he didn’t want to lose. Although very few traveled down this road, especially during the middle of the night, he wanted to reach their destination and conceal the Range Rover from sight.

Decision made, he ran in the direction he’d just come from. Stopped—about what he estimated to be fifty or so yards from the SUV—and threw the device as hard as he could into the woodland. After putting the mask back on, he sprinted to the car, checked on his passengers as he climbed inside, then started the ignition.

He began to drive. Air from the opened window blew against him, but offered little relief. He rubbed a hand along his forehead, hoping to soak up some of the sweat coating his skin beneath the mask, then noticed the Rover came equipped with an air conditioned seat feature. He hit the button on the dash, then adjusted in the leather seat. “That could’ve been a major fuck up,” he said, still not happy that he’d forgotten to remove the device earlier. Even if Ian’s crew of assholes decided to come after them and found the device, they’d waste time trying to locate the starting point of his hunt. He’d be hours, maybe even days ahead of them. Still. If he hadn’t been shot, if he hadn’t allowed Cami’s screams and blubbering to distract him, or Dante and his revenge killing comment to fester, his head and mind would have been on all that had needed to be done before he’d left the rental. Had he missed something else?

Anger surfaced as he made another turn onto a dirt road that would take them to the location he’d scoped out two days ago, but he tamped it down. He would not allow worry and second-guessing to interfere with the pleasure of the hunt. He was smarter and more skilled than any of Ian’s minions. Even if they did find something he’d forgotten, it wouldn’t matter. Ian would still be dead, CORE would become a thing of the past, and he would vanish.

The dirt road, originally created back in the 1940s by loggers who’d been trying to access the bald cypress trees that were abundant in the area, narrowed. He’d learned from a local that this road was one less traveled by the many tourists and hikers seeking a taste of what the Everglades offered. Most would turn in the other direction and head toward Janes Memorial Scenic Drive, which would take them into the heart of the Fakahatchee Strand Preserve State Park. But he wanted his prey heading west, where the chances of seeing another human were slim to none, the terrain was more rugged and ruthless, and the hunting at its best.