Kadan went after him, trusting his warning system to let him know if he was nearing a trap. Twice he detoured from the trail, sprinting at full speed, hurdling several bushes when he was certain he was coming up on a trip wire. Automatic gunfire sprayed the area and he dove for cover. The Reaper was firing blind, and he was some distance away. Through the smoke it was impossible for him to see Kadan clearly, but certain Kadan was following, the Reaper was keeping the GhostWalker off of him.

The moment the firing stopped, Kadan was back on his feet running. His radar told him the Reaper was a hundred yards ahead. He put on a burst of speed, and instantly his warning system shrieked. He made another dive, rolling as he hit the ground. The earth shook, and another series of blasts sent dirt and smoke into the air.

A motorcycle roared to life, and Kadan burst through the smoke to see the Reaper fishtailing through the dirt toward the far ravine. Kadan set off at an angle, running fast, gun out, firing at the tires as he sprinted across the open field. The Reaper responded with automatic weapon fire, aiming under his shoulder, but not really taking the time to do more than try to slow Kadan down. He clearly had an escape route planned and was using it.

The bike plunged over what appeared to be a drop-off and was out of sight. Kadan didn’t slow down, streaking across the field to reach the edge of the slope leading to the deep ravine. Heavy brush and trees grew in haphazard fashion covering the walls of the deep cut through the mountain. If there was a trail, it was man-made and the Reaper knew it well. Kadan didn’t hesitate and followed him in.

The ribbon of a track was pitted and covered with grass and a few rocks. Someone had taken the time to try to make something that resembled a path. Kadan followed it, but even with his speed, the bike was pulling away from him. The Reaper knew the ravine, every twist and turn, and Kadan had to take care not to break a leg or go tumbling headfirst to the bottom. Branches hit him in the face and brush tore at his arms, but he ran all the same.

He spotted the Reaper going up what looked like a very steep side, powering the bike over rocks and shrubs to get to the top. He disappeared for a moment and then turned the motorcycle back, pausing at the top of the ridge to stare down at Kadan.

Kadan paused, ready to dive into cover if the Reaper lifted his gun. The Reaper stared down at Kadan, a cocky smirk on his face, and then jerked his middle finger high into the air.

Kadan gave him a small salute for the soldier he used to be. There was no way for the Reaper to know he’d been herded straight into a trap, but Ryland had planned the assault perfectly.

The sound of two rifles was simultaneous. The Norton twins fired from opposite sides, and both bullets struck the killer in the head. The body toppled from the bike in slow motion, and rolled back down the slope into the ravine.

“Eight down,” Kadan said softly.

Chapter 20

“Where the hell is Tansy, Nico?” Jeff Hollister asked. He spun around in a wide circle and then crouched down to examine the dirt, looking for tracks. “She should be right here.”

Nico hurried toward a slight slope. “We wove the dream carefully, and we should have pulled her into it when we opened this sequence.”

“I told her exactly what to keep in her mind when she drifted off to sleep and I recorded every detail. Kadan agreed to play it for her as she went to sleep. She has to be here.”

Nico ran along the top of the narrow ridge. “She’s not here, Jeff. Something’s wrong.”

Jeff frowned and closed his eyes, searching through the dreamscape. “Not another living person. You’re right, she’s not here. Something went wrong. Wake up.”

Nico found himself in a recliner, Jeff across from him. Gator stood between them, guarding their bodies as they dreamwalked. He regarded them with alarm. “You couldn’t have killed the son of bitch that fast.”

“We lost her. She wasn’t there, Gator,” Nico said.

Jeff hit the arm of the chair with his fist. “The only answer is, while we were spinning our dream, Dunbar spun one she was more familiar with and pulled her in before we could draw her into ours. He has her. We have to get to her immediately. She’ll be under his control. She doesn’t dreamwalk.”

“Get Kadan on the phone. He’ll know if she has recurring dreams,” Nico said. “Hurry. We don’t have much time.”

So much blood. It rose like a river, the current strong, threatening to pull her under. Tansy gasped and turned, looking in all directions, trying to find Kadan. He’d held her; she remembered the feeling of being safe in his arms. His velvet voice whispered to her; she felt his mouth against hers, so tender she ached inside. She knew he was beside her, knew it, but she could no longer feel him.

A shadow moved in the distance, striding toward her, taking the shape of a man. He waded through the blood, an evil grin on his face. She gasped, fighting for air, unable to move, afraid to speak, to draw attention to herself. Around her, she heard the wails of the dead.

“You’re dreaming, Tansy. Wake up,” she murmured, a litany of hope, but not believing for a moment that she would.

She even closed her eyes and prayed—that when she opened them, the shadowy figure would be gone. Instead, he was closer. A man of medium height, nondescript, he would get lost in a crowd. Not handsome, but not plain, a man with intelligence in his eyes who gave off a kind of cunning energy she recognized. Her heart sank. The puppet master.

“Tansy Meadows, how nice to finally meet you.” He stood a short distance from her, his eyes running over her face, drinking in her fear, looking more feral than any animal she’d ever photographed. He was a predator, skillfully camouflaged in a sheep’s skin.

Tansy straightened, lifting her chin, her heart beating fast. “You.”

He smirked. “You were fairly good at keeping me out of your dreams. I was surprised what a worthy adversary you really were. Not quite my equal, but very good.”

“Why would you think I’m not your equal?”

“I found you. You couldn’t find me.”

Her eyebrow shot up. “A reporter found me. You read about me in a newspaper and guessed. But you can’t find my parents and you didn’t track me by yourself. I, however, tracked and found you. Your safe little home just off base is not so safe. Your little shed where you carve your illegal ivory pieces for your game of murder is now my domain. And I know your name, not by cheating, but by being the elite tracker that I am. I found you, James R. Dunbar.”

Tansy took a deep breath, forcing herself to keep a look of utter contempt on her face when she was quaking inside. There’d been a plan. It didn’t involve wading through blood, but she remembered, there had been a plan, and Kadan had whispered she would be safe.

Fury twisted Dunbar’s face. He turned bright red, his face mottled with color. “You bitch.”

“Why do men always resort to calling women bitches when we kick their asses? I found out a lot about you, Dunbar. For instance, you have an amazing amount of money in an offshore account. It seems your puppets don’t have a clue you’re raking in the dough while they do the work. You take contracts and kill for money. I’ll admit it’s rather brilliant. You actually designed your own killers. You dream up a little game, prepare the cards with specific victims right down to the exact details on how they must be killed, and you direct your puppets to do the killing for you. Even if they got caught, you’d walk away clean.”

The red faded from his face, and his features turned crafty and a little pleased by the flattery. “You are a clever girl. I underestimated you.”

She shrugged. “Most people do. I’ll bet they underestimate you all the time.” She had to keep him talking while her mind struggled to remember the plan. She wanted to stay at a distance from him, but she couldn’t move and he was easing closer.

“I think you underestimate me, Tansy,” Dunbar said. “You found me out when no one else ever has, not even Whitney . . .”

He was close—too close. Tansy tried to draw back even as she forced a smile. “I knew you’d worked for Whitney. You were in the original enhanced psychic program, determining who went through and who didn’t. You handpicked your killers based on their psychological profiles. They flunked, didn’t they? They would never have made it through, but you changed it so they looked good.”

As hard as she tried, she couldn’t move her feet, they were frozen in place. Her heart accelerated, the roaring in her ears increased. Her palms went clammy. What was the plan? Why had Kadan sent her here and then abandoned her? She clamped down hard on her runaway thoughts. He would never do that, and to think it—even for a moment—meant she was panicking.

Dunbar nodded. “Whitney never suspected, even when I put in suggested genetic enhancements for each of them.” He flashed a little smirk. “Designer killers. I like that.”

His smugness bothered her. He might not have killed, but he was more responsible than the ones he’d orchestrated to carry out his plan. He’d profited from the murders. “You made a mistake with one of them. Your scorpion wasn’t so easy to control. He isn’t a murderer.”

Again his face flushed. She’d definitely pricked his perfectionist ego. “I made him into one. He’ll do whatever I want.” He indicated her feet with his chin. “You made a little mistake of your own, Tansy. This is my dream, not yours. I initiated it, not you. You delivered yourself into my hands.” He winked at her. “Ultimately, I win.”

Her mouth went dry. “Maybe. We’ll see.” Wake up. Tansy, wake up. Kadan, where are you?

Dunbar waded through the blood toward her, stopping just an arm’s distance away. She couldn’t move. There was no point screaming. The dead were already wailing loud enough, trying to warn her, but they didn’t need to bother. Somewhere inside, she knew he had her trapped.

Everything in her stilled. Kadan. Her one regret. Did he know she loved him? Would that be enough for him to realize the truth about himself? She could never love a monster, and deep down, he thought that was what he was. She hadn’t had enough time with him to show him the truth of who he was.

I’ll love you forever. She sent the whisper out to his mind, hoping it reached him. Her beloved warrior. Whatever had gone wrong wasn’t his fault, but she knew him, knew he would carry the guilt for the rest of his life.

“I really didn’t want to use this dream, but you visit here so often. I didn’t want to get blood on my clothes. It really bothers you, doesn’t it?” He waved his arm in a half circle to encompass the lake of blood with so many victims crying out for justice. “Who are these people to you? Nothing at all, but you make yourself suffer for no reason in an effort to appease them. You can’t save them. Someone wanted them dead for a reason.”

“Money.”

He shrugged. “Or revenge. It doesn’t much matter. Someone was going to kill them. Why not gain from it? I wouldn’t have killed you, you know. I found I looked forward to our little game, but I can’t have you knowing who I am.”

He stepped close, right in front of her, so close she could smell him in spite of the overwhelming scent of blood. It took an effort not to gag—or cry out in fear. She forced herself to be still, to gather her strength to fight.

Dunbar shook his head. “It’s my dream, remember? You won’t be able to fight. You aren’t a dreamwalker.”

He struck then, astonishingly fast, his hands spanning her throat, thumbs digging deep, cutting off air. He was very strong, something she hadn’t expected. When she tried to struggle, to fight him, she couldn’t lift her arms any more than she could move her feet. Her lungs burned. Her mind began to panic.

Tansy fought down the terror and forced her brain to function in the short time she had left. Her mind reached for his. He was controlling the dream, and that meant he had found a trail leading to her, or he couldn’t have drawn her in, but she had the path that led to him. She followed it, trying not to succumb to the black edging around her and the white dots that swam in her vision.