Viper Game

  Still, he didn't let go. He didn't dare. The last soldier he'd walked away from kept coming back. He wasn't making that mistake again. Ezekiel seemed to feel the same way. They stayed very still, holding the two soldiers in a choke hold beneath the surface of the water.

  Alligator comin' in, Wyatt reported. Stay still. He's goin' to bump you. Just checkin' you and then he'll go for the wounds.

  I'm holding him off, Wyatt, but we need to get these two in the boat and make it back to help the others, Ezekiel said. You got a pulse there?

  I don' feel one. Let's do it. When we're in the boat, we'll search them, just to make sure they don' have any weapons they can get to if Braden found a way to resurrect them once they're dead.

  He's probably got a shock collar on them, Ezekiel said. You go first, Wyatt, dump the body in and climb in. I'll keep this guy at bay until you do.

  Wyatt knew enough to hurry. That much blood in the water was going to attract more than one alligator and it could get ugly fast. He went to the surface, trusting Ezekiel to keep the alligator from grabbing at his legs while he hoisted the soldier's body back into the boat and then pulled himself in.

  Ezekiel was fast, dumping the second body while Wyatt was stripping the soldier of all weapons. Ezekiel followed suit and then took up an oar. Wyatt used the other one and they guided the boat back to the pier.

  Wyatt took one last look at the dead soldiers. They're not breathin'. No heartbeat. No pulse. Nothin' at all. That doesn' mean they'll stay that way. They could rise any minute, the new zombie warriors. Maybe it's Braden whose gonna be responsible for the zombie apocalypse.

  Ezekiel glanced at him, shook his head, his mouth twitching as he tied to the boat to the pier. They look dead to me. I don't think they're getting back up, Wyatt.

  That's the point, Zeke. They rise after they're dead.

  He heard Pepper's soft laughter, still betraying a little of her anxiety. Her face had been so strained. She'd looked so alone, so vulnerable when he'd left her. He kept her with him, bridging the gap so she could hear the conversations as the team reported in. He'd needed to hear her laughter even if it was tense.

  They slipped out of the boat and onto the pier, two dark shadows reclaiming the night, moving into the trees to make their way around the house toward the east and Mordichai.

  Mordichai heard the soldiers coming. With enhanced hearing, vision and smell, it wasn't that difficult to locate the exact position of each of them.

  I've got my sights on a big bastard. He's got to be a good six-six, Malichai informed them from the rooftop. Can't see his partner yet.

  Mordichai saw the big man's partner and for just one moment he stopped and shook his head. The man's entire body was distorted, bones so thick the skin stretched taut over them. He looked like a caricature of a man.

  Whoever this Braden is, he's no Whitney, Mordichai informed the others. I've got eyes on his partner, Malichai; it's going to take a bit to bring this one down.

  Wyatt didn't like the sound of that. He pushed his way through the grass and brush, moving fast, trying to swing around to get into a position to aid Mordichai. Coming in from your right. Malichai, take the shot if you have it.

  Malichai didn't hesitate. He squeezed the trigger, once, twice, a third time. Aiming for the eyes and throat. He didn't think the soldier's thickened bone armor was going to stop a high-velocity bullet from his sniper rifle, but still, Wyatt was worried about the zombie apocalypse and he didn't want to take the chance of helping the other side.

  He watched the big soldier go down hard. He kept eyes on him, certain he wouldn't get back up again, but one never knew, not with enhancements and some kind of healing super drug. The soldier didn't so much as twitch.

  A sound warned him. A soft footfall, or maybe the breeze switched directions for just one moment. He rolled fast, nearly going off the roof. He's on me. They're diversions, Wyatt. I fucked up.

  He felt the bite of the knife sliding into him. The blade was razor-sharp and it cut through skin, muscle and everything else in its path without even slowing down. He knew he was going to die. The knowledge hit him even as the soldier withdrew the knife and came at him a second time.

  The soldier's body jerked, his expression changing from satisfaction to shock. His eyes went wide. He staggered, recovered and turned. Behind him, Malichai saw Pepper, the knife in her hand dripping blood.

  What the hell? Pepper, get out of here.

  She backed away from the soldier, focused totally on the huge man. Malichai knew she was drawing the threat away from him in order for him to get on his feet. His wound was low, kidney low, and he couldn't exactly get back there to staunch the flow of blood, but she was so small and fragile, looking more vulnerable than ever.

  Malichai's down. I've got one on the roof and three others in the yard getting close to the house.

  Pepper didn't sound fragile and vulnerable. She sounded totally cool and in absolute control. She looked so small. He hadn't even been able to see her around the soldier. She was that small in comparison. Malichai was terrified for her. He had to get on his feet. He had to.

  The soldier didn't so much as glance at him, already dismissing him as a threat. He smirked at Pepper. "I've been wanting to meet up with you again. This time it isn't going to end the way it did last time."

  She kept gliding backward, drawing the soldier toward her and away from Malichai. "You mean when I wiped up the floor with you? Is that what this is, Pierre, revenge? You and the others? All seven of you?"

  Pierre spit on the roof and kept walking toward her. "We agreed whichever got to you first got to keep you."

  Pepper didn't so much as glance at Malichai when she reached for him. Can you get off the roof? Slide down the side, if you can. I'll keep him busy until you're safely away.

  Wyatt will kill me if I leave you alone with that monster. He tried to move and nearly panicked. His body felt paralyzed. No matter what his brain said, he couldn't get on his feet.

  Without warning, his brother was there, coming up over the side of the roof, one arm hooking around Malichai's chest, under his arms and then he was over Ezekiel's shoulder and Zeke was dragging him right off the roof. Leaving her. Pepper. Wyatt's woman. Alone with the hyped-up monster.

  The moment Ezekiel had Malichai safe, Pepper moved with blurring speed, racing straight at Pierre, the man who would take her children, probably kill them and then do whatever he wanted to her. At the last minute, when he'd braced himself, ready for her, she took a dive, sliding under him, slamming her blade into him and continuing on to the other side of the roof and then over.

  She heard him scream, a terrible, ugly sound she was certain she would never forget, but she landed softly, on the balls of her feet and raced around toward the back of the house where she knew the other three soldiers were working their way through Trap's intense security system.

  Wyatt caught a glimpse of Pepper running fast, using her crazy speed even he couldn't match, tearing around the corner of the house and out of his view. He sprinted after her and his speed wasn't anything to sneeze at. Zeke, how bad?

  Nonny's helping me with him. It's bad. He's losing a lot of blood. I'm putting a line in him now.

  They were all medics. Damn good medics, and Wyatt counted on the fact that Ezekiel had been looking out for his younger brothers his entire life. He rounded the corner of the building and skidded to a halt. Pepper was in the arms of one of the soldiers and she wasn't fighting. Her arms were around his neck, her face nestled into his shoulder.

  What the fuck, Pepper? Fury shook him. What the hell was she playing at?

  Pepper stepped back and removed the guns from the soldier's hands, still looking up into his eyes as if he was the only man in her world. The soldier's mouth opened wide. He put out his hand toward her. She took it. Wyatt's entire body stiffened. Coiled tight. He pulled out his knife.

  Don't be a fool. That was Trap. She's working. Get to work yourself.

  Trap moved past him, con
tinued past Pepper, who never took her eyes from the soldier. Or dropped his hand. They just stared at each other. Wyatt realized Pepper's eyes could mesmerize, hypnotize. The eyes of the cobra, but more. The soldier was drowning in her eyes, lost in the stars in her night-filled gaze. His legs went out from under him and he went to his knees. She didn't let go. She stepped even closer and touched his face, holding his hand the entire time.

  Movement to her left had Wyatt moving, shooting as he ran. The soldier coming toward Pepper, his semiautomatic in his arms, staggered back, the bullets spitting all around Pepper. She didn't move. Didn't acknowledge there was anyone but the man on his knees in front of her.

  Wyatt kept shooting even when his target hit the ground. He stood over the soldier, yanked his weapons away and sent up a silent prayer the man was really dead. It was nearly impossible to tell anymore.

  Trap hit the nearest soldier with both feet, driving him back and away from Pepper. He hit him hard, with every bit of enhanced strength he had. The soldier went flying, and he heard an audible, satisfying crack. Still, every bone in his body was jarred on impact, as if he'd kicked a steel wall.

  He fell heavily, the breath knocked out of him. Almost immediately the other soldier loomed over him, weapon out, pointed straight at his heart. Trap actually saw him squeezing the trigger. Time slowed so that every small detail was etched into his mind. He knew he'd die that way, seeing it coming without a damned thing he could do about it. He got his hands under him to launch himself in the air, but the finger was already squeezing.

  Out of nowhere masses of silk rained down between Trap and the soldier. The silk spun in a tight cocoon, caging the soldier and his gun in the silken threads until the soldier couldn't move. The silk continued, spinning round and round so fast it made Trap dizzy. All the way up the body and neck to the mouth, the nose and eyes. The soldier fell hard, hitting the ground right beside Trap, but still the silk came, tighter and tighter, winding his enemy up until there was no possible way to move or breathe.

  She came out of the night. She was more beautiful than he remembered. Her eyes were liquid, her skin perfect. She crouched down beside him and ran her hand over him. Gently. As if it mattered. It never mattered to anyone. Trap blinked at her. She'd killed a man in seconds. Seconds.

  "We're even," she said softly.

  "No we're not." He heard the words come out of his mouth and he meant them. "We're not even, woman. Don't think for one minute that we are."

  Her eyes flashed at him. Liquid. Smoldering. She hissed between her teeth, turned and leapt toward the side of the house, moving up and over it fast, heading around to the other side. He didn't know if spider woman was escaping or going to help Draden. Right then it didn't matter, because the soldier he kicked in the chest was slowly climbing to his feet and his eyes looked angry.

  Chapter 20

  Pepper felt bile rising in her throat at the sight of the soldier, his eyes locked on her with such hungry need. She'd killed him. She'd done it to save her children and Nonny, but not like this. The knife, the gun, was a far better way to die. She couldn't let him die alone, not when she'd caused this. She'd never killed this way before and she knew, the moment he was gone, when the paralysis hit his lungs and he no longer could breathe, she would vomit.

  She'd killed the soldier on the roof to protect Malichai, but she'd done it cleanly. This man looked as if he idolized her. He had to know he was dying. She doubted that he even realized she was the one to kill him. He was enthralled with her. For a moment his face blurred and she felt tears on her face.

  He crashed to the ground, still staring at her. Gasping for breath. She couldn't tear her eyes away from his, not even when his adoring gaze began to fog over. He looked so happy. So satisfied. She cursed herself. Hated herself. Hated what she was.

  Pepper. Behind you. Damn it, behind you.

  She heard Wyatt's voice as if it was far away. Wyatt. Everything good. How could she possibly have ever thought she belonged with him? Something hit her hard from behind and she slammed forward, falling, straight into the body of the soldier. She landed on the soldier, still staring into his eyes. She heard the rattle in his chest. Felt his last breath. She lay there on the man she killed, a weapon Braden and possibly Whitney had made her into. Maybe she killed him for the right reasons, but this was blasphemy.

  A hard hand yanked her up. Wyatt stuck his face in hers. "Get movin'. Get back to the girls."

  She looked at him. His face was hard. Carved of stone. His eyes flat and cold. A crushing weight descended onto her chest and just sat there. He'd seen this abomination. He knew what she was.

  "Now, Pepper. Get to the girls!"

  His commanding voice snapped her out of the daze she was in. She saw him turn, saw him meet another soldier, chest to chest, two combatants coming together with terrible force. She did what he said because she was trained as a soldier, and an order was an order.

  Wyatt didn't have time to process the look on Pepper's face. He filed it away for the future. Right now he wanted her safe, inside where there were no supersoldiers to fight. The one swinging at his head with his gun was one tough bastard. Wyatt ducked, feeling a little as if his chest had been smashed into pieces when they'd come together. And truly, it might actually be the zombie apocalypse. The soldier he'd shot numerous times was moving, thrashing around, making hideous sounds - a serious Badboy, this one.

  Wyatt ducked and made the mistake of trying to plant his fist in Badboy's throat. Badboy moved just enough that Wyatt's fist hit solid bone. He brought up his knee hard, needing room, shoving the soldier off of him. Fortunately, he was enhanced and that extra strength gave him the upper hand when it came to shoving. Badboy was lifted off his feet and sent flying.

  I need you now, Wyatt, Ezekiel snapped. Right now. Nonny's setting out your instruments, but you've got to get in here.

  Wyatt could have groaned, but he didn't have time. Badboy was charging, floundering a little without the weapons Wyatt had stripped from him.

  Go, Draden snapped, firing from behind him. He punched numerous bullets into Badboy, a pattern, high and low, every soft spot and every major artery. Get to Malichai. Ezekiel will get out here to help me.

  Watch zombie boy. He's goin' to come at you, Wyatt cautioned.

  Draden turned the gun on the zombie, who was trying to get to his knees. He went back down when Draden added more holes to his chest.

  Wyatt didn't wait to see what happened next. He raced back toward the front of the house, knowing if Ezekiel was calling for him, Malichai needed attention now. He tore into the house and headed down to the office he'd kept for the locals who needed a doctor. They'd moved his gear into the room and set up a surgery there, just in case.

  The lights were blazing and he could see splashes of blood on the floor as he went inside. "Nonny!" She was steady. She'd always been steady, and like him, she was a natural healer. She didn't panic. Not ever.

  She was there right away, assessing Malichai's condition as he lay on the operating table, facedown. He already had lines in. Ezekiel had worked fast to keep his brother alive, but he needed surgery.

  "Pepper." Wyatt turned his head the moment he sensed her in the doorway. He was already at the sink, scrubbing. "You don' let anyone in the house. You understand me?" She was different. Distant. He couldn't quite reach her, not even through their connection. Her face was very pale, but her answering nod was firm. "Whatever it takes, babe. Just keep them off of us."

  She nodded again and turned away, leaving him with Nonny and Malichai. Ezekiel had already raced outside to aid Draden. Wyatt looked at his grandmother. "Let's get it done. Zeke set everything up. Check and make certain Zeke has all my instruments, the gelfoam and coils."

  Trap shot the big, burly soldier point-blank, and he didn't go down. The man was half covered in silk, but he'd somehow torn the sticky filament off his arms. The gun had gone flying, but he had Cayenne wrapped in his big, beefy arms. She looked tiny, but Trap could see she was a ha
ndful, much stronger than the soldier first thought. She used her legs and arms to gain wiggle room from his death hold on her.

  The big, beefy soldier suddenly grunted, as if she'd scored a hit on him, held her away from him with one hand and punched her repeatedly with the other. That's when Trap shot him. Right in the face. Point-blank.

  Trap wasn't a man who displayed emotion often. He often didn't recognize emotion in himself. Rage exploded through him, a rush of such proportions he followed up the bullets by kicking the soldier in the gut with both boots, using his forward momentum to gain even more strength.

  He felt the jar through his body as he struck, but the beefy soldier dropped her and staggered back several feet. He turned his one working eye on Trap. There was malevolence there. A kind of distant boiling fury.

  "Get up," he ordered Cayenne. The soldier was flying on something. Bullets and a kick that should have broken his insides to pieces hadn't even fazed him. "Damn it, get on your feet."

  The malevolent eye hadn't stayed on Trap. It had gone to Cayenne, who was moving slow, groaning, trying to push herself up off the ground. Trap caught her by the back of her shirt and yanked her to her feet, pushing her behind him.

  "Get the hell out of here."

  The soldier wiped at the blood running down his face, smearing it everywhere. Once more fixing his eye on Trap, he licked his fingers, smirking. Trap shot him again, a straight line of bullets up his body and back down, like a zipper. He heard the bullets thud into the man, but the soldier didn't do more than jerk with each strike.

  I'll take him from the trees, see if I can drop silk around his neck like a noose while you distract him.

  She was there. Moving in his head. No one moved inside his mind. No one. He spoke to his team telepathically, but they didn't get in his head. It was an invasion of privacy, and he would have broken her neck himself if they weren't in such a dangerous position. He was a man with too many secrets, and no one was allowed to ever get that close - or that intimate.

  "Get the hell out of here," he snarled. Shocking himself. He didn't feel fear like the others. He didn't usually feel. Cayenne disturbed him in ways he didn't understand.