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Phantom in the Night
By
Sherrilyn Kenyon & Dianna Love
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Contents
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
EPILOGUE
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#1 New York Times bestselling author
SHERRILYN KENYON
BAD ATTITUDE
BORN TO BE BAD
The critics love
SHERRILYN KENYON
"Brisk, ironic, and relentlessly imaginative."
Boston Globe
"One of the defining authors of the new wave of paranormal..."
Booklist
"... A delicious balance of suspense and sensuality."
Publishers Weekly
SEIZE THE NIGHT
"A lively read containing her signature blend of brisk action, sensual thrills, and light humor."
Publishers Weekly
KISS OF THE NIGHT
"... an entertaining thrill ride."
Publishers Weekly
"Kenyon once again delivers a winner."
Old Book Barn Gazette
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Also by Sherrilyn Kenyon
BAD Attitude
Born to be BAD
Available from Pocket Books
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Pocket Books
A Division of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
1230 Avenue of the Americas
New York, NY 10020
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright (c) 2008 by Sherrilyn Kenyon
ISBN-13: 978-1-4165-0357-6
ISBN-10: 1-4165-0357-9
First Pocket Books trade paperback edition June 2008
POCKET and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
Published in the United States of America
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We're dedicating this to our wonderful husbands
Ken (Sherrilyn's) and Karl (Dianna's)
who are real heroes, plus they kept us fed.
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Acknowledgments
From Sherrilyn Kenyon
Thank you to Dianna for being such a good sport and always making me smile. I never thought I could cowrite anything, but given that we often share a common brain (LOL) you made it not only easy but a joy Thank you so much for all the support.
Thank you to Kim, Jacs, Brenda, and Retta for reading all my manuscripts and making great comments. And let's not forget Jack, Carl, Eddie, Aimee, Judy, Soteria, and all the others who make my message bbs a living community where all are welcomed. Thank you, fans, for coming back day after day. You guys rock!
To my husband, for being my shelter in the storm. You are my rock and I'm grateful everyday that I said yes when you asked me out to see a movie I couldn't stand. For my kids, who are always my comfort and my greatest source of pride. May God bless and keep you all.
From Dianna Love
I'd like to thank Sherrilyn Kenyon for the opportunity to collaborate and for being a wonderful writing partner who made the experience one I look forward to repeating. I have an even deeper respect for her writing skill after brainstorming and creating this book. On top of all that, you're a great friend.
I also want to thank my husband, Karl, who makes it easy for me to follow my dreams, always there to cheer me on. I have never loved another and am so glad you are in my life. As if that isn't enough, Karl gave us a great comeback for Terri's character. When you find it, you'll chuckle then probably use that same line by the end of the day Much love and thanks to both of our families and friends, whose support means the world to me.
From both of us
We appreciate Lauren McKenna's support and faith in our ability to cowrite this book. In addition to being a terrific editor, she is a wonderful cheerleader, always ready with a positive word.
Thanks also to Merrilee Heifetz for all the hard work on our behalf.
A big thanks goes to author Mary Buckham, who bounced ideas around and was one of our early readers, plus she enlisted her husband Jim's help when we needed additional Italian history research. Cassondra Murray, a talented writer as well, read and gave us feedback sorely needed from an objective eye. Cassondras husband, Steve Doyle, provided us with expert advice on Special Force operations and weapons, plus he read the entire story and loved itconfirming our hopes that both male and female readers will enjoy this adventure.
To the RBL Womenthanks for all the support, laughs, and martinis. You are too much fun!
We love our readers and were thrilled to have Hope Williams give us an objective early read. Her feedback was invaluable. Youthe readersare the reason we work so hard to create a book. A huge thanks to all of you have sent us notes of encouragement, excited to see this first collaboration effort, and who read our books, allowing us to do what we lovewrite stories. You're the best!
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PROLOGUE
A dangerous damn place to run out of dirt.
The grim stench of death in this hand-hewn tunnel strangled every breath Sergeant Nathan Drake sucked in. He hated caves.
Only one way in... or out.
He lifted a hand, signaling his teammate, Captain Vic Stoner, who followed fifteen feet behind to hold up. As SOP, Nathan took point leading the way and Stoner covered his back.
This cave had shown more promise than anywhere else they'd searched during the past eleven weeks combing the Chapare jungle in Bolivia. Crates of weapons, both opened and unopened, were stockpiled against hand-held missile launchersenough grenades to turn a small city into shambles. The makings for a terrorist playroom, but not enough to qualify as the Level 5 threator biological weaponNathan's team had been sent to recon. This cache probably belonged to a bunch of rebels unhappy with South American politics, or a drug runner.
In that case, he was ready to get the hell out of here and return to base. But one thing bothered him.
What miserable son of a bitch had brought female victims here to torture and kill?
Eight skeletons, so far, lay in obscene positions surrounded by dried pools of blood throughout each of the dark, dismal tunnels they'd searched.
Dead ends all.
And they'd found nothing to connect these gruesome killings to the deaths in a tiny village sixty-five kilometers east of here. Man, woman, and child, the entire village had been wiped out without a weapon mark on the bodies. Medical examiners flown in from allied nations concluded the deaths had not been a result of biological warfare, but a deadly virus with no known origin. One that vanished without a residual tracewhich sounded like the exact definition of biological warfare.
The unexplained incident had caused unease within national securities of several countries.
And forced this covert op.
Even now he could see the victims they'd found three weeks ago in the vi
llage. Gray skin cracked and bleeding on bodies twisted in the throes of agony. Anguished eyes of children staring in hopeless confusion, their skin clawed by tiny fingers.
A constant reminder of why he swore to defend and protect.
And why he was stuck in the back of this freakin' cave.
Nathan swung around to scope their only exit route, everything painted in a greenish cast from his P VS-14 fold -down night-vision monocular.
Stoner held an army-issue M-4 with a Knight Armament suppressor at ready. The short machine gun looked like a toy against the ammo vest wrapping his thickly muscled chest. According to Stoner, three years on oilrigs prior to enlisting had supersized his until-then scrawny body. Right now he was all but invisible, coffee-brown skin contrasting with his pearl-white lady-killer grin when he used it. Nathan and Stoner were so comparable in size, a stranger couldn't tell them apart when they were in covert clothing.
Even when it came to body language.
Stoner's casual stance outright lied. There was nothing relaxed about that man when on a mission.
Nathan lifted his chin in a "ready?" motion.
Stoner cocked his head toward the exit. His "all clear, lets go" signal.
Nathan strode silently past him, watching for any change in the narrow passage he could span with outstretched arms. The dark amplified his senses. As point man, protecting members of his team came above all else. More than a job, he'd found his place in the military, somewhere he could make a difference and still help his mother and brother back home by sending money. He didn't need much to live. Whatever he carried on his back during a mission. His family, both back home and the team he fought beside, was all he valued.
Greed is your enemy, son. Focus your efforts on what really matters, the people you love. His father had passed down that legacy before he'd died when Nathan was eight. Like his father, he believed in it completely.
His foot bumped something that made a click sound.
Shit Nathan froze, holding his breath. They'd checked for trip wires. Shouldn't have missed this one. Blood roared through his ears. Each excruciating second passed slowly as he waited to be blown to pieces. He'd stand firm. Take the brunt of the explosion if it saved Stoner.
Sweat ran from under his camo hat, down his back...
Nothing happened. If he'd triggered a booby trap, he'd be dead right now. Nathan swallowed, took a breath coated with the stink of rotting flesh, then scanned the floor. He hadn't hit a trip wire, just the decaying bones of a narrow foot connected to a leg on his right.
There in the darkness, dried patches of skin clung to a small skeleton slumped in a crumbling pile. So much like the other bodies they'd found in the cave. Serial killer? Small adults, delicate bone structure, partially clothed... if at all. Shredded dresses tossed around, some used as rags.
Young women. All with long black hair, like his mother had once worn hers. His line of thought disintegrated when a green laser beam danced on the skeletons fractured leg.
He glanced up. Stoner met his gaze with the one eye not blocked by the monocular, then lifted two fingers as he pointed at his eyes, indicating they were only here to observe.
Nathan hadn't forgotten his directive. His four-man team had been given specific orders. This was a recon and intelligence gathering mission, nothing more. The goal?
Determine any validity to the reports on terrorist movements in this area.
Under no circumstances were they to engage in a conflict.
Translation: Don't kill anyone. Don't leave any DNA. Complete the assignment without being detected. Get your ass home intact. Ten-four.
He nodded at Stoner and carefully moved toward the weapon cache room between them and the exit point of the cave. When they reached the open space, Stoner stepped forward and let his weapon hang from the dummy cord attached to his vest in order to free his hands. He fished out a camera disguised as a writing pen, complete with a functioning ink cartridge, and began snapping photos of everything.
Now guarding Stoner's back, Nathan studied the hollow space and listened for anyone approaching. Pulaski and Duran were outside watching the entrance, but they'd remain hidden, engaging only if AHBLall hell breaks loose.
Nathan took in every inch of the room, which was roughly thirty feet in diameter and at least six feet, three inches tall since he could stand upright without hitting his head. One large crate was set off to the side. Ropes attached at two corners had been tossed carelessly across the dirt floor.
A hint of warning tightened the skin along Nathan's neck. With all these weapons stored, where was the patrol? No one would leave this arsenal without a guard.
Not unless they were extremely cocky or terminally stupid.
His gaze strayed to the left, where the least decayed body rested indecently against the wall, a recent kill. Her legs were sprawled wide open, one arm bent at an unnatural angle and enough skin remaining to see how grotesquely she'd been tortured.
Nathan's heart jacked up a notch in anger. The sight sickened him. He gripped his weapon tighter. Were all these bodies nothing more than unlucky women in the wrong place at the wrong time? Prostitutes? Didn't matter. They were someone's sister, wife... mother. No woman deserved to be raped, tortured, and murdered. Whoever did this needed to be stomped hard.
"Three tangos approaching cave," came through the earpiece of Nathan's commo headset.
A high-pitched female cry reached his ears before the crunch of boots on gravel echoed against the mouth of the cave.
Stoner wore an identical headset. He was next to Nathan in a flash, camera tucked away and weapon ready. Not a damn thing casual about his stance now.
Nathan signaled StonerYou shift to the left side of the tunnel leading toward the dead end, I'll take the right. They melted into the dark cavity, disappearing from easy view. Every nerve in his body tingled at high-threat alert.
The bastards trudged toward them, stealth obviously an unfamiliar concept. Terse male voices argued in broken Spanish.
Nathan caught enough to know they argued over whose turn it was to be first this time and how they didn't want her to die before they both had a shot. Heart-wrenching feminine sobs were interspersed with pleas for mercy, bathing the room in raw terror as two men entered the weapon storage area.
Nathan tightened his grip. He fought the urge to pound these assholes into next week.
Observe only. Don't engage. His finger feathered across the trigger.
Mangy and dark-skinned, two men emerged from the opening wearing swamp boots and ammo vests. The first wouldn't reach Nathan's shoulder. He sputtered curses between drags on his cigarette and shined the flashlight ahead of his sidekick. The taller one of the two carried a Galil fully automatic rifle pointed at the screaming womantango number threehe dragged along by a wad of long black hair. Had to be the leader of this deviant pair, but this one packed enough muscle to make taking him down an event worth charging admittance for.
Small rocks scattered from the woman's kicking feet. She couldn't be twenty yet. Pretty, except for the ugly bruises on her face and arms. Her nose and lip bled. She fought with everything her tiny body could offer up against a gorilla.
Nathan folded his monocular up against his forehead and looked over at Stoner, who had lifted his as well and moved one finger from his weapon in a sign that they were on the same page. Unquestioning trust was something Nathan had only shared with his brother until meeting Stoner.
The woman screamed with enough force to make the dead tremble in fear and yank Nathan's attention back to her. His gut tightened into a knot.
Weapon dropped aside, the head goon had the girl down on the ground, her arms tied above her head to the ropes attached to the crate. Shorty had tossed his cigarette aside and was busy trying to hold her jerking legs.
This had to be done quietly. Nathan released his weapon to hang from the carabiner on his vest, but close enough to use.
"Hurry up. I will not wait forever!" Shorty yelled at the leader in corrup
ted Spanish. He pinned one of her legs with a boot and reached inside his pants, starting this menage r torture without waiting on his sidekick.
The leader dropped onto his knees between the scratched and bleeding limbs of the struggling woman. He shoved her legs so wide she jerked and screamed in pain. Screeching prayers slashed the silence, pleading for divine help. Her attacker pushed his pants down as far as they would go and grabbed his cock, shaking it at her.
"You will know a real man," he bragged, then released himself to lift a wicked knife from its leather sheath on his belt. "But first you will beg for me."
Nathan moved, silent as a deadly shadow.
The woman wailed so loudly the two men wouldn't have heard an army approach. Hidden from view at their backs, he covered Shorty's mouth and snapped his neck in one move, then lowered the limp body. His need for retribution riding him hard, he reached one hand around the leader's mouth, yanking his head back.
"Whaa" The tangos knife hand came up out of reflex.
Nathan grabbed his wrist. The horror of what was about to befall this rapist slithered across his piggish face a second before Nathan shoved the blade deep into the mans lung. Warm liquid squirted over his hand and the air filled with the sharp metallic odor of fresh blood. Hysterical screams of the half-naked woman mixed with the image of decaying carcasses, strewn through the cave like yesterday's garbage, stoked his rage. This bastard didn't deserve to die easy Nathan twisted the knife, feeling metal grind against ribs.
What was one more grisly image added to his endless stock of nightmares?
A gargled noise spewed from the guy's lungs before he jerked, then stopped struggling, his body fluids expelling with his last breath. Nathan discarded the body, yanked out the knife, and used it to cut the ropes that held the girl down.