Crouching low in the trees, they listened to the whisper of the ground. They could track anything. Find anything. Both could make a bomb out of almost anything and take one apart even faster. Rubin signaled to his brother and the two split, Rubin moving around to get in front of the house. He slung his rifle over his shoulder, reached up and jumped for a branch a good five feet over his head. He pulled himself up and climbed a little higher until he found the perfect branch.
Gunfire broke out here and there. It was easy to tell the GhostWalkers from Violet's mercenaries. The GhostWalkers only shot when they had a target in sight. One single shot and it was a kill. The mercenaries sprayed the swamp and surrounding area with automatic weapons when the wind blew and they heard noises. They'd been told the GhostWalkers wouldn't be seen and they were experiencing that phenomenon.
Diego began his move, coming up behind the six men spread out and stealthily working their way through the grove of trees to the side of the house. The brush was thick here and old cypress roots jutted up all over the ground as the impressive trees rose high and thick. Moss hung in long veils, shrouds of grayish green, from the numerous limbs twisting toward the sky.
He came up behind one of the men, his knife sinking into the kidney and then across the throat. He dropped the body and was gone just as his brother's rifle spoke. A second member of Violet's team went down. Instantly the remaining four went back-to-back, spraying the forest around them with bullets. Rubin was safe, high up in the tree, calmly siting in on another. He squeezed the trigger and his target went down. The moment the forest went quiet, Diego shot his second enemy and rolled.
Diego had already chosen his next man and he moved around forward, trying to get behind him, using his toes and elbows to propel him through the thick brush. The two remaining enemy fired into the forest again, a concentrated volley, laying down a river of bullets all along the path where Diego had been. One clipped his leg, and another hit his arm. He heard the sound of his brother's rifle and another body dropped. The remaining mercenary turned away from the house and began to run toward Diego, in the direction of his vehicle. Diego shot him through the heart and then crawled his way to a tree. He sat there waiting for his brother.
Gino Mazza sank down onto his belly and put his ear to the ground, listening to what the earth had to say. He raised his head and inhaled deeply through his nose, taking in the smells all around him. He was a hunter. An elite hunter. There were few in the world who could match his skills and even fewer who could escape him. He was two inches under six feet and all muscle. He had very dark hair, nearly black, and some said his eyes matched his hair, just as dark. He rarely smiled, although Wyatt's three little girls had been known to make him laugh upon occasion.
He'd been born into an extremely wealthy family and somewhere in some bank he had enough money to buy and sell a small country. By now, he was certain, possibly a large country. He'd inherited from his grandparents on his father's side, then his grandparents on his mother's side, then his mother and lastly, his father. They were good people, all of them. Kind. Generous. Loving. Devoted to Gino. All the money in the world hadn't saved them from the kidnappers who had come to their residence during the celebration of Gino's twelfth birthday. His family had fought back and they had been killed. They stood in front of him, refusing to give in to the demands, even as one by one they were executed. Gino carried the scars from the bullets that had torn his world apart. He'd been shot three times and left for dead. Fire had been set to the mansion.
It had been his friend Joe Spagnola who had rushed into a burning building and pulled out his bloody, nearly dead body. Joe's family had taken him in. They were very different from Gino's family. They had money, but they also had high fences and guard dogs. Men with guns patrolling their grounds. Joe was sent to the best schools and Gino went with him. They were also required to learn everything martial arts, boxing and street fighting along with every weapon Joe's father could conceive of.
It had been Joe's father who had tracked down the kidnappers. They'd died hard and it had taken them a long time to do so. Gino had watched and learned. He'd learned a lot about the business Joe's father was in, and then they were sent away to college. Joe's father had served in the Marines with Sergeant Major Theodore Griffen and encouraged both his son and Gino to do the same. Both did, although they chose the Air Force and the medical field. They both qualified for the GhostWalker program and Joe joined, Gino following right behind him.
Gino found the first man signaling to his buddy to stop just to the right of the Fontenot home. They were close to it, closer than Gino would like. No one was getting into that house where the women were. Where Joe had been taken for surgery. The mercenary closest to the house nodded, unslung a bag and dropped it quietly to the ground. He passed several grenades to his partner and pulled out a block of C-4. Things were getting serious.
He rose up and threw a knife. It was small, the blade barely two inches, but perfectly weighted and accurate. The knife hit the jugular of the man with the grenades, sank deep, and Gino threw the second one. It was a one-two throw, one he'd practiced thousands of times. It was rare for him to miss, and he didn't now. Both men went down, and Gino was on them to finish them before either could pull a pin on the grenades, or worse, retaliate with the explosive.
Mordichai fired his weapon and Gino heard the thud behind him as one of the mercenaries fell. Gino kept moving forward. The most important thing in his world right then was to keep these men off the house. He followed the scent of sweat to the next three mercenaries. They were back in the trees waiting for the explosion they were certain would come. They were ten feet apart, down on one knee, automatics aimed toward the house. He was relatively certain the three were supposed to be guarding the backs of the explosive team, and yet they didn't even know they were down.
He was a ghost, earning him the nickname Phantom, and he utilized his ability to move in silence, coming up behind the first of the three. He took them out one by one and not once did one of them see it coming. He slid back into the forest and began a sweep for any strays as occasionally he heard the bark of Mordichai's rifle.
Bellisia hit the river and swam quickly to the bank where she'd stashed a rifle but she didn't pull it free. She had her Glock on her. Staying low, she watched Violet approach the house with her five bodyguards. It sucked not being able to hear what was being said, but Violet's body language spoke volumes. She was all over the GhostWalker team leader, Joe Spagnola, and his body language was clearly protective. They had a relationship. Bellisia had missed that when she'd been investigating Violet, and she'd watched her for a while. The woman had several lovers, including one or more of her bodyguards.
Ezekiel hadn't relaxed, and he could hear every word being said. He slipped back into the shadows just as she felt the vibration of a swamp boat in the water. They weren't running the engine full out. In fact, it was barely chugging along. She could tell it was a swamp boat by the way it moved through the water. For a moment she was indecisive, needing to stay right where she was to protect the others. If the craft coming toward the Fontenot pier held more enemies, they needed to know.
Just as she began to duck beneath the water to swim toward the moving craft, shots rang out, Mordichai firing twice in rapid succession. She turned back, stroking hard to propel herself back to the bank, all the while watching in horror as Violet slashed Joe to ribbons. It was the last thing any of them, Bellisia included, expected.
Violet might order a hit. She might bring a dozen teams to wipe out the female GhostWalkers and their children, she might even stand by impassively and watch one of them being tortured, but her record was spotlessly clean. If she'd ever harmed another person, hands on, it wasn't recorded anywhere, and Bellisia, for all her research, had never come across such a thing.
Whitney had given Bellisia access to Violet's training. Like all the girls he had acquired as orphans, she had studied how to fight. She had weapons training and extensive hand-to-hand, but
she hadn't excelled in either. She'd been paired with Edward Freeman, a young up-and-coming politician whose father had gone to school with Whitney. Both wanted the presidency for Edward. She had seemed devoted to him, but even then, the two of them were always surrounded by bodyguards. She had never had to actually fight off the assassins--another GhostWalker team had done that.
Violet leapt off the porch and Bellisia lifted the Glock as the senator ran toward the river in a crouch. One of the bodyguards fired at Ezekiel, but Joe threw his body in front of him and the two went down, Ezekiel firing at the guard. The firefight erupted in seconds, and she had a choice of shooting Violet or another bodyguard threatening Ezekiel's life. She chose saving Ezekiel. She pulled the trigger and the guard went down. Two more men got in the way of her shot, running with Violet. Bullets flung them back and away. Violet didn't even so much as glance at them as she dove into the river.
Bellisia waited to make certain that no one else threatened Ezekiel. She saw him clearly giving orders. She wasn't telepathic, but she could feel the energy when the others talked. One or two of them were strong and could build a bridge to the others. She wasn't a part of that yet. Still, she could feel it in her brain like a fluttering of annoying wings, and in her ears, the buzzing of bees. Then he was lifting Joe and kicking at the front door. Draden ran out from under cover. Mordichai fired and she did as well to keep three men off of him as he sprinted for the relative safety of the house. She hit one man, Mordichai the other two.
She had no doubt the team could take care of whatever Violet had unleashed on them. In the meantime, she had one goal. She tossed the Glock onto the bank and turned and dove under the water. Violet had a head start, but she was fast and she had a good idea where Violet was heading. Sure enough, the vibrations of the boat became stronger and the engine picked up speed. It was coming toward the pier, still around the bend.
Bellisia streaked through the water as fast as possible. She'd been in the river several times and knew where every snag was. That knowledge aided her as she took every opportunity to try to find the boat before Violet was in it and gone. It made sense that the boat would head out on the river to Lake Borgne. Once out of the immediate area, Violet could take whatever plane she'd used to return home and sneak in as if she'd never left. Her Secret Service agent would attest to the fact that he'd put her in her house and she'd never left. It was imperative that Bellisia catch the boat before it took off for the lake.
She rounded the corner and saw two men leaning down, helping Violet into the swamp boat. She put on a burst of speed just as they dragged her inside and she fell gasping for breath.
"Go. Go," Violet ordered. "Get me out of here." There was suppressed fury in her voice.
Bellisia caught at the side of the craft just below the water line and attached herself as the powerful motor revved up and the boat spun around, spraying water into the air. She began to climb slowly, one hand sticking while she inched upward with the other. It was difficult, even with her strength. The boat was going so fast it slammed the surface hard, making it bounce. Several times they had to slow to get their bearings. She took advantage, peering over the edge. She was behind the man driving. The others looked forward toward their destination.
She slipped over the edge into the boat, her body taking on the color and texture of the wet floorboards. Violet sat on the padded bench seat, her body leaning forward, silently urging the craft to greater speeds. They were a good way from Lake Borgne. Bellisia moved behind the man driving and then around him, inch by slow inch. No one looked her way, but she wasn't taking any chances.
"Are we being followed?" Violet shouted over the roar of the motor.
The man sitting on the other side of the seat shook his head. "I don't think so. The last report was, quite a few of them were trying to save Spagnola. You must have done a number on him."
Bellisia saw Violet's fingers curl into a fist. The glint of a blade lay along her wrist just inside the sleeve of her jacket. She carried two blades and her training on knives had been extensive, but she had been a poor student. She'd slashed Joe's face, not his jugular. She'd cut across his chest and shoved the blade in his gut. But she could have cut the arteries in his legs or done much more damage as fast as she'd been. She had forgotten her training--or she wanted Ezekiel and Draden to be taken out of the fight.
Violet's reasoning didn't matter to Bellisia. Making her body as small as possible, she slipped under the overhang of the seat and continued her forward movement until she was right under Violet. The hem of the senator's trousers hiked up just enough to show skin above her short ankle boots. Bellisia had to do this right--deliver the venom without Violet becoming aware she did so. The injection had to be painless or at least so easy Violet wouldn't recognize she'd been bitten.
The man just across from Violet spoke into his radio over and over. "I can't raise anyone. For a minute I thought someone screamed."
The driver laughed. "Maybe they managed to kill those little vipers."
The distraction worked. Violet turned in her seat to face the others. As she did so, Bellisia allowed the venom to rise. She scratched Violet's ankle deep enough that it drew blood, but shallow enough that it was no more than a brief sting and then gone. Violet jerked her ankle but didn't look down.
"I hope so, Nate. I can't stand the thought of more snakes or spiders running around. They were supposed to be terminated, the entire bunch of them. The orders were given but never carried out. We should have dropped a bomb on that house." She ground out the words, pouring hatred into them.
Bellisia spat into her hand and allowed the venom to drip into the open wound. She waited a moment to be certain enough entered the tiny laceration to kill. She attached herself to the bottom of the seat and waited.
"They'll get them, Senator," the driver assured. "We hit them when they weren't expecting it and very few of them were there to protect the hideous creatures."
"It was a shame to have to sacrifice Joe Spagnola, but he refused over and over to listen to any of us. I tried. All of us did." She didn't sound sad, only annoyed that he hadn't done as she wanted. Clearly Violet was used to her voice paving the way for everyone to do as she desired. "I knew I'd have to kill him sooner or later. He just refused to see reason."
Violet shook her hands and moved her legs restlessly. She coughed. "My hands are going numb. So are my legs."
"It's the cold, Senator. I should have thought to bring a blanket for you," Nate said solicitously.
Violet waved his suggestion away, but brought her hand up to her throat, still shaking the other one. Nate moved up toward the front of the boat. Bellisia was close enough to Violet to hear the soft gasp as breathing and swallowing became difficult. She lay down abruptly, stretching out along the seat. Bellisia waited, but neither man seemed to notice that Violet was in distress. Violet tried to speak, Bellisia could hear her, but over the roar of the engine, the men couldn't. A good five minutes went by. Violet's head lolled to one side as paralysis set in.
"I want you to know that this was for all my sisters," Bellisia whispered softly, her mouth close to Violet's ear, although she was well hidden beneath the seat.
Violet tried to move, but nothing happened. She lay with her eyes open and her breathing shallow, almost nonexistent.
"It won't be much longer before you're dead. If there is one person in this world other than Whitney who I know needs to die, it's you, Violet. You could have saved us, but you left us to Whitney and his knives and needles. His cancer and hideous experiments. You hated what some of us were, but you didn't save us from him. No one can save you now. Even if they discover you, it will be too late. You're dead, and we killed you. Your sisters."
Bellisia allowed a little more time to pass. The boat bumped along. The senator's body flopped on the seat, but the men kept their eyes forward. It was night now and they were running fast through the river out to the gulf. They didn't want to be seen. It was imperative that the senator get back to her home befo
re her absence was discovered.
The boat came about hard and Violet's body fell with a hard thump to the floor of the boat, her face turned right toward Bellisia. Deliberately, Bellisia allowed herself to be seen. Violet couldn't move or speak. She gurgled, her body struggling to get air, but it was impossible.
"You sold everyone out and now look at you. A mass of garbage and no one cares. Not. One. Single. Person. You lie there and die, Violet. I'm going back to a life with Ezekiel."
Bellisia crawled right over her legs and back behind the driver. Violet's body was flung against the side of the boat at the next violent pitch. Nate yelled and the boat slowed then stopped altogether. Nate and the driver both made their way to Violet. Her pupils were fixed and dilated. Both men swore.
Nate began CPR, but there was no response. Within ten minutes, both men were convinced the senator was dead. Bellisia was convinced as well. The heartbeat continued until extreme asphyxia had set in. Bellisia had dosed her with as much venom as possible, making certain they wouldn't discover her in time to save her.
Satisfied, Bellisia crawled to the very edge of the boat and began to make her way over the side into the cold waters of Lake Borgne. It was going to be a long, tiring swim home. She was numb from being in one position for so long, and when the boat lurched suddenly as both men moved away from the body, she had to fling out a hand to save herself from falling back into the boat.
"What the hell?" Nate burst out. "What is that?" He lunged and got a grip on her ankle, his knife in his other fist.
Alarmed, she kicked out and launched herself over the edge. The knife came down again and again and a volley of bullets hit the side of the boat and water as she slipped under.
16
Bellisia dropped to the bottom of the river as quickly as possible. Bullets spat into the water around her, and the knife came far too close, shaving skin on her arm. She swam a distance from the craft, moving like a rocket in the water, but deep so there was no way to see her. Once away from the boat, she surfaced. In the dark, and unless they shone their spotlight right on her, she knew she couldn't be seen.