Lethal Game Read online Christine Feehan (GhostWalkers #16)

Categories Genre: Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal, Romance, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: GhostWalkers Series by Christine Feehan
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Total pages in book: 164
Estimated words: 151345 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 757(@200wpm)___ 605(@250wpm)___ 504(@300wpm)
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This was going to be a hard one to live with, but the hell with it. Jorganson was right, they were sheep and they wouldn’t listen to reason. They couldn’t hear when they were told a simple truth. They wanted to believe everyone in the world was good. Some people really were too stupid to live. That was Jorgey’s laughing mantra and it was the truth. He took a deep breath, straightened and began the long walk back to his car. It was on the third floor of the parking garage just up the street.

It was getting hot already, although it wasn’t yet afternoon. Sweat broke out and he slapped at an insect on his neck. One nailed him on the inside of his wrist, and he smacked at that one too. He didn’t like bugs. He sprayed for them all the time, but he’d never found a bug spray that really deterred mosquitoes. He walked briskly, but after a few minutes he found his arm felt numb and he was having difficulty catching his breath. He didn’t want Callendine to see him like that, because he’d make him run for days until he got back in shape. Too much time sitting around watching football and basketball.

By the time he reached his vehicle, his lungs were burning. He put his head back on the seat and closed his eyes, giving himself permission to rest, hoping Callendine didn’t have eyes on him. He was just going to stay there for a few minutes . . .

He’s down, Bellisia confirmed.

That was four. Malichai glanced at his watch. They’d identified and taken down more than half of them in under five minutes, but Ezekiel was still working on the first bomb. Not one had said they were clear.

“Back entrance, all the way to the left. John Sawyer,” Avery said.

Malichai nodded to let Avery know he heard. Shylah, John Sawyer back entrance, all the way to the left. He’s lighting a cigarette on the sidewalk and he just flipped off the building. You see him? You there?

Yes, he’s grinning. Thinks he’s getting off scot-free. That’s not happening. I’m moving up on him now.

Don’t take him close to the center. Callendine probably has eyes on him. If he knows we’re onto him, and killing his men, he’ll blow this place. We have to find where every bomb is and then get them out.

It was a huge chance they were taking, but they were certain Callendine was prepared to kill everyone if he was discovered.

“You’re not supposed to smoke here, sir.”

John Sawyer whirled around to see a young girl with freckles spread across her nose looking at him through wide, brown eyes. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, but even that style failed to tame the mass of waves and wild curls. She was smiling at him with her generous mouth as if she’d given him a compliment instead of telling him, a soldier, a man who had secured her fucking freedom, her right to breathe, what he could and couldn’t do.

“Fuck you,” he said and flicked the cigarette right at her face.

She was close to him and it should have hit her right in her eye, that glowing end. He’d even stopped to see the results so he could think about them for a long time. He’d had lots of practice hurting the weak, showing them what fools they were and how they should treat men like him with far more respect. Callendine would probably shoot him if he knew some of the shit he’d done, but he’d been careful. He’d like to see this little sweet-faced bitch reach the understanding of just who was in charge.

Somehow, her hand moved with blurring speed. She was so fast he hadn’t even blinked yet he didn’t see her move and the cigarette hadn’t hit her. She caught it and smiled at him. That smile wasn’t sweet. Those dark brown eyes were suddenly cool and not at all friendly. She went from looking like a young teen to something altogether different.

Found the bomb, Mordichai confirmed. Go for it, Shylah.

“Who are you?” He turned away from her.

Something bit his neck as he turned, and he slapped at it. He walked briskly away, slapping at the insect and then just covering the bite because it throbbed. He felt a trickle of sweat sliding down his neck to soak into his tee and he walked faster. He was almost to the parking garage, but his legs felt rubbery. He made his way to the grass and sank down, thinking he’d just rest for a minute. He found himself lying down, staring up at the sky.

A woman’s face swam into view above him. He recognized those freckles. She didn’t say anything, she just reached over his body to his neck where the bug had stung him and then she was gone, leaving him in peace to stare up at the sky until everything just faded away.


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