Total pages in book: 158
Estimated words: 145803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Once he found his tree, he was careful to make his way up into the heavier canopy. After securing the packs, he went back down to make himself a ghillie suit. It was a hasty job, but it would do, helping to hide him from anyone who came to look. Once back in the tree, he placed his weapons around him, securing them to the branches, and figured out several ways to exit the tree if necessary. The last thing he did, before closing his eyes to nap, was pull out his favorite rifle from his pack.
Zale studied his prey from the flat boulder he lay on. Larsen had made himself a cozy little den up in the tree. Even without Vienna giving him the phone with the locator on it, that particular tree would have been one of the first places Zale would have suspected Larsen would have decided on retreating to.
He indicated to Rainier. “He’s there. Sitting up all pretty like he owns the place.”
“Let him sit. He’ll get tired enough. The soldiers will make the sweep. We can protect them from here. If he makes a move to leave his little den, he’s dead. If they spot him, he’s dead. We’ll fade away and no one will be the wiser.”
The forest came alive with soldiers moving slowly, examining the ground and rocks. Going over the trail. They found the blood on the trail. Raine’s. Vienna’s from the spray of granite. Larsen’s. Eventually the soldiers continued their sweep away from Larsen’s tree and disappeared into the woods. Larsen didn’t move for a long time, proving he was well trained and had patience, but as no more soldiers came near, he sat up and drank from his water and ate an energy bar, all without the knowledge that they had him in their sights.
Quiet descended with the night. An owl hooted. Bats took to the air, wheeling and dipping to find every insect over the rushing water in the distance. Zale slipped off the boulder and circled around into the heavier forest, coming close to Larsen’s tree. Eventually, he would climb down and stretch his legs. He was feeling confident if his smug expression was anything to go by.
It took another hour before Larsen moved, making his way down the tree, using the branches, avoiding the trunk as often as possible in order to keep from scraping bark and leaving evidence. He jumped the last few feet, landing in a crouch. He wore a tactical vest and his weapons were close.
Zale emerged out of the shadowy darkness behind him. “You’re military, Larsen. Do you know what a ghost is, when someone in the military refers to one?”
He spoke low, so low Larsen wasn’t certain he actually heard a voice at first, but then he froze. “Ghosts never speak. They just make the kill and walk away.”
“True, unless it’s personal. This is very personal. Vienna’s mine. You shouldn’t have come after her.”
Larsen swore under his breath. “I knew almost from the beginning that I should walk away. Wallin isn’t a man who ever lets anything go. He’s got the backing of the Bottaro family. He carries weight, a lot of it with his kind of money and power.” His hand inched toward the pistol in his side holster. It was the hand in front of him, the one he was certain the “ghost” couldn’t see.
“Consider him already dead,” Zale said softly. This time he was only inches behind Larsen and whispering in his ear. “Because he’s going to die too.”
Larsen felt the bite of the knife in his left kidney as it went in, twisted and came out. Then the blade was at his throat and he felt the incredible sharpness slicing through his skin and artery. His knees went weak and his legs went out from under him. He fell forward, facedown onto the forest floor. Leaves, twigs and dirt met his eyes and nose. He opened his mouth to speak. He didn’t remember what he was going to say. The last thing he saw was the ants coming for him.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Vienna stroked her cat’s soft white fur as she sat in the dark on top of her bed. Princess purred her approval of Vienna’s attention. The Persian had always demanded to be number one in the household, and when Vienna wasn’t giving her the devotion she felt she deserved, she turned up her little snub nose in pure disdain. Sometimes she would turn her back on Vienna and refuse to associate with her in retaliation.
“My ankle is very sore, Princess,” she told the cat, massaging the small, round-tipped ears. “I’m not certain I’ll be doing much dancing at Stella’s wedding.”
For the hundredth time she looked at the clock on her nightstand. She tried not to worry about Zale and Rainier, but it was impossible given that she knew Larsen was trained in survival. Most likely he’d received that training from the military.