Ultimate Prey (Book 3 Ultimate CORE) (CORE Series) Page 2
“When you’re doing theater, there’s not a lot of time between scenes and I can’t keep my audience waiting,” she said with haughty, dramatic flair, then laughed.
He chuckled. “Never,” he said, pulling her close. Cami didn’t have an arrogant bone in her body, and despite the rave reviews she’d received, she tended to joke and down play her recent success. Probably because Hollywood hadn’t been kind to her in the past, and her peers had tended to look down on the roles she’d played in the campy Evil that Lurks films. “That first night I saw you perform on stage, I—”
The lights flickered, then went out. She gripped his arms. “Oh, my God. Ian, I—”
“Shh. Hang on.” When he didn’t hear anything, he reached for her hand and guided her through the blackened room. Once he retrieved his cell phone from the nightstand, he put on the flashlight feature. “Let’s head downstairs. The owner has battery-powered lanterns for emergency situations in the kitchen.”
She jerked his hand, halting him. “Do you think this is an emergency?”
“No. Could be a power outage.”
“But the noises—”
“Coincidence,” he said, but used the flashlight to find the Glock he’d brought with him. Other than the firing range, he hadn’t been in a situation where he’d been forced to use the weapon in nearly nine years. He doubted he’d need it now, but the former FBI agent in him didn’t believe in coincidences. Not after what he’d witnessed with the Bureau, or what his CORE agents dealt with on a regular basis.
“Do you think you really need that?” she asked, gripping his arm hard. “Never mind, bring the gun, and if you have another, maybe you should give it to me.”
Hell, no. He had a .45 stowed in his other bag, but there was no way he’d let Cami have it. Just because she’d held a replica during one of her films, didn’t mean she could actually shoot the damned thing. “This is the only weapon I have,” he lied, and was tempted to tell her to stay put. Although he didn’t think they were dealing with anything more than a couple of pesky raccoons, or possibly a panther, he didn’t like the idea of her being on the second floor alone should he be wrong. “I told you, it’s probably nothing. Stay behind me, we’ll check things out downstairs and probably be back in bed in a few minutes.”
The glow from his cell phone touched along the worry lines creasing her forehead. “Can we at least stop in the kitchen? I saw a set of knives on the counter. In Evil that Lurks in the Sewer, I used a knife to—”
He silenced her with a kiss. “No knives. I probably don’t need my gun. I’m just being cautious and tomorrow morning we’re going to laugh about a family of raccoons stalking us.”
She grinned. “I was up against mutant animals in one of my films and kicked their furry butts. I can handle a family of raccoons.”
“That’s my girl.” He gave her another kiss, then led her toward the door. “Stay behind.”
Cami hooked her fingers through one of the empty belt loops on his jeans. “I have no intention of letting go,” she whispered, her warm breath brushing his bare back. “If we get the power back on, maybe I’ll make us something to eat.”
Food would be good. Cami back in his bed would be better. But first he needed to find out the cause of the noises and turn the power back on, hopefully without having to call the electric company or the owner of the rental. That would be a pain in the ass and not how he wanted to start their vacation.
When they reached the bottom step, he moved the cell phone, sweeping the light between the entrance to the kitchen and the hallway leading to the foyer. Without power, the house had been plunged into darkness, and the phone was about as good as carrying around a lit match in the rain. Needing a battery-powered lantern, he led Cami into the kitchen and checked the pantry. “Damn it. I swear there were lanterns in here. Come on.” Without another word, he took her down the hall toward the foyer. Once they reached the door, he checked the locks. Secured. From there, he inspected the den, then moved them into the large living room. The small beam of light emanating from his phone barely touched on the closed windows, then the TV and furniture. Nothing appeared disturbed or out of place.
He glanced over his shoulder. “The electrical box is in the laundry room off the kitchen,” he said, keeping his tone quiet. “Let’s head into—”
A sudden burst of orange-red flashed from the kitchen. Cami tugged at his belt loop and dug her nails into his side. “There’s someone in the house,” she gasped.
He quickly shoved the cell phone in his back pocket, turned, grabbed the back of her head, then put his mouth near her ear. “Hide in the coat closet,” he whispered. “There’s a phone in the kitchen for emergencies. I’ll call—”
She shook her head. “No. Let’s just get the hell out of here.” Her nails bit into his flesh. “Please,” she begged.
He looked over her head toward the front door. The keys to the SUV they’d rented were upstairs in the bedroom. They’d have to trek half of a mile to the nearest neighbor to call the police, and he wasn’t sure if there was anyone in residence at that neighboring house. Which meant they could end up walking for several miles. He glanced to what she was wearing. Her slippers reminded him of something a ballet dancer would wear. They weren’t ideal for the terrain they would face, but at least she had something on her feet. He, on the other hand, had been more concerned about arming himself than shoes or even a shirt. But she was right. He didn’t know who was in the house or their objective, and had no plans of finding out—not when he had Cami’s safety to consider.
Damn if he didn’t want those car keys, though.
Common sense had him hauling her toward the door. “Go,” he whispered, unlocking the deadbolt, then twisting the knob.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice rushed and filled with fear. “Open it.”
He rattled the handle. “Won’t open.” How could this be? The door swung inside, not out. Unless someone secured the door from outside to keep them…trapped. Although the house was large, claustrophobia set in. He grabbed her wrist. “The window—”
She pulled back. “The front windows don’t open, remember?”
He did now. Earlier, Cami had tried opening the windows in the den and on one side of the living room to let the afternoon breeze air out the house. But the ones on the other side by the dining room did open, only that would put them near the kitchen, and without knowing who was in the house, or where they were hiding, he wasn’t sure he wanted to take the risk. Then again, other than smashing the windows, what choice did they have?
“Back door,” he said.
She held her ground and stared at the decorative mirror hanging on the dining room wall opposite to the kitchen entrance, her eyes growing wide and filling with terror. He followed her gaze and caught his breath. A giant man, dressed in all black and wearing a ski mask stood in the kitchen, the orange-red glow of the flare silhouetting him. The man gave a single nod, then rushed from the room, his heavy footsteps pounding along the hardwood floor in the hallway.
“Go.” Ian pulled Cami across the living room, into the dining room and toward the kitchen. On the tile floor, the flare sizzled and burned. Smoke and the strong smell of sulfur hung in the air. “Try the back door,” he ordered, keeping his gun raised and his body in front of hers.
“It won’t open,” she said, her tone panicked as she jiggled the doorknob. “I can’t get it to—”
Another flare burst from the living room. “Move,” he said, covered her head with his chest, then slammed the butt of the Glock against the door’s window.
“There’s no escape,” a deep voice cut through the hiss of the flares and shattering glass. “Ready or not, here I come.”
“He’s coming,” Cami whispered in Ian’s ear. When her warm tears wet his cheek, he looked to her. The horror in her eyes had him thinking of the many ways he wanted to kill the man who had invaded their home. He had a gun. He could put a bullet in the bastard’s head. But first, he needed Cami safe.
The man’s heavy footfalls grew louder, closer. Not sure if he could break them out through the back door in time, Ian hurried her through the kitchen, saw the house phone had been ripped from the wall, then quickly pushed her into the laundry room and locked the door. Other than the glow from the kitchen shining from beneath the closed door, the room was pitch black. Ignoring the way the smoke had stung his eyes, he turned on the phone’s flashlight again, then aimed it to the window. The opening wasn’t large, and he doubted he could fit through it, but Cami could. “Here,” he said, handing her his phone. “You’re going to get out of here and run to the neighbor’s house.”
She looked to the small window he’d opened, then to the cell phone. “Do you think I’ll pick up a signal once I’m outside?” she asked, rubbing her eyes. “Ian, I have no idea where I am or how to even find the neighbor. What if I run into an alligator or—”
“Better than what’s in the house. Just keep to the edge of the driveway and in the shadows. Turn left when you hit the road we drove in on, and run. You’ll see a mailbox at the end of the next driveway.”
“What if he’s not alone? What if there’s someone outside waiting for us?”
But what if there wasn’t? He didn’t want to risk her life by keeping her in the house. He also didn’t want to send her into the unknown where he wouldn’t be there to protect her. Now he wished he’d have brought the other gun with them. He couldn’t second-guess himself, though. Not with—
“Knock, knock.” A soft wrap hit the laundry room door. “Anyone home?”
Cami’s breath came in short, shallow spurts as she backed into the washing machine. Ian stepped in front of her, then looked over his shoulder. “You have to get out of here and call for help.”
Still staring at the closed door, she nodded, then wiped the tears from her eyes. “Okay, I’ll go,” she said on a quiet sob, then kissed him. “I love you.”
“I love you, too. Now go.”
He set his gun on the washer, then grabbed her by the waist and lifted her.
The intruder slammed on the door, which knocked a picture frame off the wall. “You’re not trying to run are you?” He battered the door again, splintering the wood doorframe. “That’s no way to treat a guest in your house.”
“He’s going to kick it in,” Cami cried, squirming free of Ian’s grip, then hiding behind him.
Knowing she was right, he retrieved the Glock, made sure it was ready to fire, then aimed it at the door. Sweat coated his chest and back. Fear and adrenaline made his heart pound hard. He hadn’t killed a man in nearly nine years, but would kill this one before he let the bastard do anything to Cami.
The man grunted when he hit the door. “You’re making this harder on yourself,” he shouted, and slammed the door again. “And really starting to piss me off. Now I might have to have fun with your pretty little actress. She was great in those shitty movies, but now I want to make her scream.”
“This is because of me?” she whispered. “Oh, my God, Ian, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know…didn’t think…”
“You know who this is?” Whoever was on the opposite side of the door knew Cami. If they were dealing with a deranged fan…he didn’t want to even consider what the bastard might do to her.
“No idea. I’m sorry,” she repeated. “If anything happens to you because of me—”
The man hit the door again, and Ian worried the next blow would knock it off its hinges. Seconds ticked by. Other than Cami’s shallow breathing and the insects chirping from outside, the house had grown eerily silent. Could the man have gone outside? Ian glanced to the opened window expecting for him to be there. When he saw nothing, he quickly shut and locked it. Aside from the windows, there was one other exit, and that was in the small guest bedroom upstairs where a deck and steps led to the backyard. If they could find a way to—
“Where is he?” Cami asked, pressing closer to his back.
“I’m still here, lover,” the man said, then scraped something along the door.
Dread crawled along Ian’s skin and he quickly took aim again.
“Since you’re anxious to be with me, and I have a meeting planned, playtime is officially over.”
A meeting? Did this mean he wasn’t working alone? Ian reached behind and gave Cami a reassuring squeeze, then whispered, “Be strong and stay behind me.”
“I will. Ian, I—”
The door bounced off the wall with powerful force. Cami cried out just as a bright light blinded Ian. Without hesitation, he fired five quick shots, hoping to God a couple of them hit the bastard. The high-beam flashlight thudded to the floor and rolled. The man staggered back, hit the wall, then slowly slid down.
Dragging in deep breaths, Ian inhaled the strong scent of gunpowder and sulfur, then slowly approached the man. The red-orange glow from the kitchen hadn’t dimmed and cast eerie shadows throughout the hall. He couldn’t tell where he’d shot the man, but considered putting a bullet in his head for good measure. He nudged the intruder’s black boot with the heel of his bare foot first, which elicited no reaction. Heart still pounding hard, his stomach filling with an odd mixture of triumph and dread, he took another step.
“Is he dead?” Cami asked, breathless and maybe a little hopeful.
“Go upstairs to the guest room with the deck and lock yourself inside,” he answered instead. What they’d experienced was bad enough, and he wanted to shelter Cami from any more horror tonight.
She touched his back as she edged out of the laundry room.
“Don’t open the door unless it’s me or the police,” he added.
“And if it’s not you?”
The fear in her voice had him turning his head toward her. Shadows and smoke caused by the flare played across her face and intensified the apprehension in her eyes. “Run.”
“No one’s running from me.”
He saw movement in his peripheral vision and pulled the trigger. “Run,” he shouted, as the intruder shifted his body and raised his arm.
Ian fired another shot, then stilled. Every muscle in his body cramped tighter and tighter until he couldn’t hold the gun, let alone himself, up anymore. He dropped to his knees with a painful thud, then fell forward. The Glock was kicked from his hand as his body jerked against the cool, tile floor. He saw Cami’s ballet-slippered feet move, watched helplessly as the ski-masked intruder stood, still aiming the Taser on him. Tried to tell her to get out, but couldn’t make his mouth work.
“Nobody fucks with me.”
Ian shifted his eyes. The intruder raised his boot. “Nobody,” the man finished, then everything went black.
Lola Tam’s Condominium, Chicago, Illinois
Wednesday, 11:56 p.m. Central Standard Time
Lola Tam pulled the apple pie from the oven. “What the—?” She looked at the bottom of the glass dish, saw that the crust was as black as fresh asphalt, then set it on the stovetop. How could the crust be burnt, yet the middle still soupy? She tossed the oven mitts on the counter, checked the directions again, and then the clock. So much for taking a homemade apple pie to Dante and Jessica’s tomorrow, it was already nearing midnight and she didn’t have the ingredients to give it another attempt. Thank God she’d bought a frozen one as backup. Since she didn’t have to be to their house until one in the afternoon, she’d bake the frozen pie in the morning and—
Her cell phone rang. Considering the hour, she rushed to retrieve it off the charger. When she checked the caller ID and saw the call was from Dante Russo, her coworker and fellow agent at CORE, she didn’t relax. Midnight calls usually equated to critical cases. Cases she’d never been given the chance to work.
“Hey, Dante,” she answered. “Everything okay?”
“No. We’ve got a problem.”
“What is it?” she asked, both nervous and hopeful. Although grateful for her position as an investigator at CORE, during the past few months, she’d begun to question whether she should stay and continue to give the agency a
chance, or quit and move on to a different job. She enjoyed the investigation aspect and conducting research, but had grown tired of the boring, easy assignments her boss, Ian, kept giving her. But Ian was out of town, leaving Dante in charge. Maybe Dante had an assignment for her that could help her earn the respect of not only Ian, but her fellow agents. A little excitement would be nice, too.
“You need to get to CORE. Everyone is meeting there in about thirty minutes.”
“Anything I need to know?”
There was a long pause before he said, “Not right now. I’ll fill everyone in once we’re together.”
“Okay, I’ll be there,” she said, heading into her bedroom to change.
“Call Harrison for me. I want him there, too. He might need a ride, and he’s on your way.”
“Will do,” she said, then ended the call.
Fifteen minutes later she picked up Harrison Fairclough outside his apartment building. “What’s up?” he asked, climbing into her Honda Pilot. “It’s not like you to get all cloak and dagger.”
She shifted into DRIVE, then pulled onto the street. “I wasn’t being cloak and dagger. I told you what Dante told me.”
“A whole lot of nothing,” he said, then smothered a yawn. “How’d the pie turn out?”
“Don’t ask.”
“What? No apple pie on Thanksgiving?” He sighed. “That’s totally un-American.”
She grinned. Since Harrison didn’t have any family in town, he was also invited to Dante’s for dinner. “I’m bringing pie, it just won’t be homemade.”
“Aren’t you glad I suggested buying a frozen one just in case? Next time, do what I do and volunteer to bring wine or beer. That way the only appliance you need to contend with is a refrigerator.”
She pulled into the parking garage below the CORE offices. “I’ll keep that in mind.”