“Who the hell are they?” Gator asked.
“They are the ones who have been trying to kill us off from the beginning. Once it got out that Whitney made supersoldiers, the technology was worth billions to other countries,” Ryland explained. “With us dead, no one can do a snatch-and-grab and try to dissect us and get the answers for free. No one can find Whitney and get the information, so they have to find a way to bring us out into the open, where they have a better chance of killing us. If GhostWalkers are accused of murder, there isn’t going to be a trial, is there, Kadan?”
Tansy tangled her fingers with Kadan’s. “We’re not going to let that happen.” She spoke with supreme confidence. “I’m an elite tracker. I’ll find them and Kadan will take the proof back to Washington.”
“I’ve never heard of an elite tracker,” Gator said. “What is it that you do?”
Nico leaned forward over the seat and there was respect tinged with awe in his voice. “You’re the serial killer girl. You track murderers using your mind.”
She smiled at him. “That would be me.”
“How the hell do you do something like that?” Ryland asked.
She shrugged. “All of you do unusual things. It’s a gift.”
“It isn’t easy,” Kadan snapped. “She ended up in the hospital the last time.” He brought her hand up to his mouth. “Don’t make it sound like it’s a breeze.”
“They helped my family.”
“You were willing to do it before they helped your family.”
Color rose, staining her cheeks. “It’s no different. Don’t make it be different.”
Ryland touched her shoulder. “We appreciate it, Tansy. You should have told us, Kadan. We could have helped.”
“I’m under orders. The general called me back, explained the situation and told me to clear it up fast. So I found Tansy.”
“Well, now you’ve got some help. We’re going with you.”
There was a stubborn streak a mile wide in Ryland—in all of them. Kadan knew they’d just follow him, now that they knew what he was doing. They were tenacious like that. “Find the reporter. Tansy has to handle a couple more objects. I think we can find at least the East Coast team.”
“Team?”
Kadan explained the theory of a murder game. “Tansy’s hoping to profile each of the players and maybe get a handle on how the game is played and who is running it.”
“Do you think this coalition, the ones who want us dead, is behind the murders?” Ryland asked.
Kadan shook his head. “My gut feeling is that they’re simply taking advantage of it. The coalition Meadows mentioned has a major hard-on for the GhostWalkers,” Kadan said. “They had to have given some of the details to the reporter, knowing he’d run with it. He found out Tansy was working in the mountains and led them right to her. And they sent a couple of assassins after her. I thought, at the time, that they were after me, but they didn’t know I was there until they started tracking her. Bad luck for them.”
“We’ll track down your reporter and find out who put him on the trail,” Ryland said. “And then we’ll meet you at the other house. And Kadan?” He waited until Kadan met his steely gaze. “You’d better be there.”
Kadan sent him a faint grin and saluted. “I understand. And I’m grateful for the company.”
Gator dug into his pocket as Nico opened the door. “Want an Altoid, Kadan? They’re cinnamon.” He tossed a tin of the mints onto the front seat.
Kadan choked. If it was possible for him to blush, he might have done it. He didn’t dare look at Tansy as his friends got out of the car. He just started the engine, put the vehicle in gear, and drove away, flipping them off through the open window as he pulled onto the street.
Tansy laid her head back against the seat as she picked up the little tin and turned it over and over before dropping it back on the seat. “I take it they have an enhanced sense of smell. Have they been giving you a bad time?”
He could have sworn there was amusement in her voice, but when he glanced down at her sharply, she looked sober and innocent, which raised his suspicion more. He put the tin in his pocket, not wanting it out in the open as a reminder of his friends and their highly developed sense of smell, or their bad taste in humor.
“I’ll get them back. Why don’t you go back to sleep? I’ll put some music on.”
He turned on the CD player. Tucker and Ian’s voice came over the speakers, singing off-key. “I wanna live with a cinnamon girl . . .”
“Bastards.” He turned the player off immediately.
Tansy burst out laughing. “I don’t think they’re going to win any contests.”
“I’m sorry if they embarrassed you.”
She leaned over and nuzzled his arm with her chin. “Why would I be embarrassed? Are you?”
“Hell no. I wouldn’t give a damn if they walked in on us, but I don’t want you uncomfortable.” He was adamant.
She shrugged. “I’m not going to be embarrassed because I have sex with you, Kadan. I like ha**ng s*x with you. I like how you make me feel and I especially like how I make you feel. So let them say anything they want. It doesn’t bother me.”
She meant it. He felt a surge of pride, of awe, that she could belong to him. He wasn’t even certain how it had happened, but damn, he was grateful.
“You left the room tonight.”
“You knew?”
“Of course I knew. I like having you curled around me, and the moment you left, I felt alone. You went to see my father, didn’t you?”
“How did you know?”
“You weren’t satisfied with his answers. He knew about Whitney’s experiments, didn’t he? You would have told me right away if he hadn’t.”
“I’m sorry, baby.” He laced his fingers through hers and brought her hand to his heart. “I really am. I wanted it to be different for you.”
She was silent, staring out the window for a few minutes before she took a deep breath and looked at him. “My mother?”
“She has no idea. She despised Whitney. I could read her mind, but I can’t read his. I made certain she slept through our talk. I didn’t want to cause her any more distress than she already has been through.”
“What was his explanation?”
“If I tell you, Tansy, I’m going to tell you the entire story. Be very, very certain you want to know,” he warned.