Because Jaimie was wired that way, and she never stopped digging, she managed to piece together a little information on the existing GhostWalker teams. There were four that she’d uncovered. The first and oldest was comprised mainly of men with army backgrounds, Rangers and Green Berets, although there was an FBI agent with extensive military training on it as well. The men had undergone a tremendous number of experiments as well as training. A few of them were anchors, men who would draw the overload of psychic energy from the others so they could function properly. They usually worked together as a team, the anchor staying close to those who couldn’t work without one.
The newspapers had reported that Dr. Peter Whitney, the brains behind the GhostWalker experiments, had been murdered, yet she’d had contact with him after that time. Brian Hutton had worked in a unit that had guarded a facility where he’d been working, and several others, Kane among them, had done so as well. She had a high security clearance and had continued to help analyze information. During that time she’d kept tabs on her family to ensure they were all doing fine and no one was double-crossing them as she suspected had happened to Team One.
She rubbed her temples, trying to stop the headache already pounding there in spite of Javier’s presence. Team Three—Mack’s team—was comprised of all anchors, very rare in the world of GhostWalkers, and she knew they often had to work alone on their assignments, impossible for someone overcome by psychic overload. She had been the exception. She still wondered why they’d made the exception for her, as she wasn’t an anchor and couldn’t work alone. She believed Mack and Kane had something to do with the decision, but she couldn’t be certain. She’d never been able to access her own records. For all her skills, she hadn’t been able to get to her file—
and that bothered her more than anything.
Something was going on and the men didn’t seem to question it as she had. Team Two was comprised of mainly SEALs. There had been a few shady things happening within that team as well. Jaimie scrubbed her hand over her face. Two of those men had been lured into the Congo and tortured, barely escaping with their lives. Someone was trying to destroy the teams. To her mind, the third team, Mack’s team, was the most vulnerable.
As urban warfare specialists, Team Three was sent over and over into situations that would fray the nerves of the most skilled combatants. Urban warfare was a dangerous art, a unique combat that only the most gifted and steady men could really handle for long periods of time and, sadly, it was becoming a necessity. She feared for the team’s vulnerability. If someone in their own government was working against them, it wouldn’t be that difficult to put them in harm’s way.
As for the fourth team, comprised of mainly the elite Air Force Pararescue Special Forces, they were ghosts in the wind, as was their commander. She had uncovered little about that team beyond their confirmed existence.
The tapping of a finger on the counter caught her attention. She looked up. You all right? Javier asked.
She nodded. But she wasn’t. Her stomach was in knots and she wanted to throw up. This was not coincidence. She’d worked hard to get out of that life, to build a future, not only for herself but for the others. They would need it later, when all was said and done—if they survived. Psychics had a difficult time without a controlled environment. She meant to build up a surplus of money and a safe haven for her family. Instinctively, like she knew so many other things, she knew everything she’d worked for was being threatened.
Mack’s voice whispered in Javier’s ear this time, using the radio so Paul was a part of the orders. “Come up behind them, Kane.”
Gideon’s voice interrupted. “We’ve got a sleeper, boss. Third window, second story. I caught a flash.”
“You certain?”
“Don’t insult me. He had to have seen Javier take out his men.”
There was a small silence as Mack examined the two dead men. “These men are military,” Mack’s voice nearly growled. “What the hell’s going on?”
Javier’s heart jumped. “You telling me I killed a couple of our own?”
“We’re getting pictures and fingerprints. No IDs on them, but they’re military.
They came prepared to take her,” Mack assured. “They have an injector that looks like a tranq, but we won’t know until we test it. Ties. Firepower. They aren’t innocent, so don’t sweat it.”
Easier said than done. Javier shook his head and tried a few deep breaths to settle his churning gut. His every instinct had told him they were the enemy, but military?
The same side? “What the hell are we into here, boss?”
Jaimie shook her head. She couldn’t hear what Javier was saying, but she could read lips. They were all questioning what they were involved in. She’d made a mistake thinking the government would let her go. Once a GhostWalker, always a GhostWalker. She thought working as an analyst would satisfy them, but obviously she’d been wrong. Whatever was happening, the power orchestrating behind the scenes was determined to draw her back in, and planned on using Mack and her family to do it.
A spurt of resentment had her kicking out at the wall in defiance. She’d told Mack. How like him to just go his own way with all of them following him, no one bothering to think about the how and why of anything. Now they were all in this mess. She’d done her best to convince them, but would any of them listen to her? She had a brain. A big brain. High school at eight. Graduating with honors from the University with a doctorate by the time she was twenty. Come on. Of course they wouldn’t listen to her. Mack was so much smarter.
She kicked the wall a second time, wishing it was his shin. Mack. He was out there in the night, staring up at her window, gun slung around his neck, putting his men—no, not just his men; his family—in deadly peril, and loving every moment of it. Worse, even with all of her intellectual reasoning, she was just as bad as the others, following him anywhere he led, even when she knew it was down the wrong path.
Who could resist Mack? Not her. Certainly not her. And he was back. He’d looked at her so differently. Not even in the year they’d been lovers had he ever looked at her with that particular expression he’d worn tonight. Not even when passion had burned hot and out of control between them. Not ever.
She pressed a hand to her stomach. Did she never learn? He was poison to her.
She forced herself to look at Javier, to concentrate on his lips.
“He’s on the move,” Mack’s voice intoned in Javier’s ear. “Don’t let him get away.”
“He’s moving across the rooftops with incredible speed, boss,” Gideon said. “I’m after him, but I don’t have a prayer of catching this guy. He’s souped-up with something.”
“Who’s on the move, boss?” Javier stirred, tried to peer out the window at the rooftop across from him. Something was moving fast, no more than a shadow. No more than a ghost. “The son of a bitch watching Jaimie?”
Jaimie’s heart jumped. She always knew when she was being watched. Her internal alarm system never failed. How could it be possible that someone had set up to watch her and she hadn’t known? Maybe Mack was wrong. Doubt ate at her. Mack was many things, but he was seldom wrong about this kind of thing.
“He’s gone, boss,” Gideon reported.