Killing Game (Veritas Book 2) Read online

  She shot him a glance, realizing it was true. “Cait.”

  “I like Caitlyn better.”

  She took a few more strokes. “I might get a support animal someday, but not while I’m out here in the swamp. The gators think dog is a gourmet meal. I wouldn’t risk it.”

  “Someday you’ll have to come out of the wilderness.”

  Only if I know how.

  *~*~*

  Over an hour into the return trip, Patti raised her head, blinking. “Please tell me you’re taking me out of this hellhole.”

  “Sorry,” Brannon said. “You’re headed back to the group. They miss you.”

  “No!” she said, sitting up abruptly. “I don’t want to. I don’t like . . . ” She hesitated, then looked from Brannon back to Cait.

  “Is it your boyfriend?” Cait asked.

  “He’s not my boyfriend, okay?” Patti said. “You got any water?”

  Cait stopped paddling long enough to extract a full bottle and hand it over. Patti rinsed out her mouth first, spitting over the side, then took three big gulps.

  “So what’s bugging you about the tour?” Brannon asked. It was a smart question, coming at the situation from another angle rather than zeroing in on James first.

  “It’s not the tour, it’s him. James didn’t tell me we were going on this thing. He just said we’d take a tent out and camp for a couple days. Then I find out we’re going native in the middle of a damned swamp.”

  Cait opened her mouth to ask a question, then shut it. Her companion seemed to be able to get the girl talking better than she could.

  It’s the hormones. Or at least it had been when she was Patti’s age.

  “How long have you been with James?” he asked.

  “A couple weeks. He helped me change a flat tire. We started texting back and forth. Then he asked me to go camping with him. It’s not like we’re dating or anything.”

  Cait ground her teeth. She could just imagine what The Major would say about his teenaged daughter taking off in the middle of nowhere with a guy she hardly knew.

  “What makes you not trust him?” she asked.

  Patti looked back at her, complexion pale. “He asks a lot of questions, but he doesn’t tell me anything about him or his family. He’s always in my face if I look at another guy. Wants to know where I am and what I’m doing every minute of the day.”

  “That’s not good.”

  “No. Or maybe I’m just being weird or something. Who knows? I’m not great at judging people.”

  “Who is?” Brannon said, ramping up the charm, which caused Patti to smile in return. “Do you know where he’s from?”

  Patti shook her head. “I asked and he said it didn’t matter.” She took another swig from the bottle. “I really have to go on the tour?”

  “You have anyone who can pick you up if we do take you back?” Cait asked.

  Patti sighed.

  “Tell me the truth,” Cait warned.

  “No, my mom is out of town and my dad is working on some big project. He’s hardly ever home.”

  “Then you should stick with us. We’ll keep an eye on James. You let us know if you’re spooked about anything, okay?” Brannon said, as he skillfully glided the canoe through the water, powerful stroke after powerful stroke.

  Patti gave him an adoring look. “Okay. I’ll do it. Ah, do you guys have any food? I’m kinda hungry.”

  “Yeah, we might just have a protein bar or two,” he replied.

  She smiled at him again as if he’d just handed her the moon.

  Definitely all about the hormones.

  *~*~*

  By the time they reached the first platform, Patti had come to life after being fed and given some aspirin. While she and Cait packed the remaining supplies into the canoes, Brannon made a trip to the toilet, careful to keep his rucksack with him. He knew it looked odd, but he didn’t dare leave it behind, not with the militia’s money inside. After taking care of his full bladder, he stepped out and powered up his phone. One of the latest e-mails included the Marine’s service record. It made for interesting reading.

  Caitlyn Jayne Landry had enlisted at age eighteen, just as she’d said. After eight years in the Marine Corps, she had risen to a rank of sergeant and been awarded numerous commendations and a few medals for her time spent in Afghanistan and Iraq.

  She’d been on one of the FETs, the Female Engagement Teams that had partnered with Special Operations units. Their purpose had been to interact with and potentially interrogate village women, since men were not permitted to speak to them due to religious restrictions. It had been a dangerous, but rewarding assignment.

  Brannon knew exactly what it was like to enter a small hamlet, looking for the enemy. How sometimes you found them, and how sometimes they were women and children. The FETs had been disbanded in 2012, and Cait had been assigned to another unit. When it had been time to re-up, she’d left the service. He suspected PTSD had kicked in and she’d found it hard to function. Not an uncommon story. Pensive about what he’d learned, he typed a “thanks” in reply to the e-mail and went to join the others.

  Cait spied the phone in his hand. “Keeping up with the sports scores?”

  He shook his head. “I wish.”

  “Your girlfriend?” Patti asked, joking. He shrugged and didn’t answer, then noticed that Cait was watching him closely.

  Once they were back in the canoes, she gave Patti an oar and put her to work.

  The girl wasn’t impressed. “You’re like my mom. She never lets me slack.”

  “You can slack tonight, once we catch up with the others,” Cait said.

  Patti muttered something under her breath. “Yeah, just like my mom.”

  Brannon kept the smile off his face. The more time he spent with Cait, the more he liked her. Depending on her loyalties, that might prove to be the worst mistake of his life.

  Chapter Nine

  It was about an hour out from dusk when they finally made it to the campground on one of the smaller islands. The instant they reached shore, the other campers swarmed down to meet them.

  “Patti!” James called out, appearing relieved she’d returned to the group.

  “Hey,” she replied noncommittally.

  “So where’d you go?” Bill asked.

  “She decided to check out the wildlife,” Brannon said. “Take a moonlight cruise. No harm, no foul.”

  Good answer.

  The look the girl gave him said he’d made a new friend. Hopefully the gentle lecture Brannon had delivered on the return trip would do the trick. In the end, Patti had promised to tough it out and not cause any more trouble. Cait hoped that was the truth.

  “So what’s for supper?” she called out.

  “We got stew,” Preston called. “We saved some for you.”

  “As long as it’s not made out of squirrel, I’m starved.”

  Once the canoes were secured and the packs unloaded, she looked up to find Patti glaring at James, who was giving her an earful of grief. She headed that way, remembering how uncomfortable the girl had been about the kid.

  “Who do you think you are, running off like that?” he demanded, gripping her arm hard enough that Cait bet it would leave bruises.

  “Back off,” Patti said, yanking her arm away. “I don’t answer to you.” She hurried away even as he made another grab at her.

  “Patti,” he warned.

  “Stop getting in her face and let her work things out in her own time,” Cait said.

  “This isn’t your business,” he snarled.

  “It is as long as I’m heading up the tour. So chill out, and put the drama in neutral. Got it?”

  He swore under his breath and stomped off in the opposite direction.

  “Males. They’re always trouble,” she muttered.
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br />   “Present company excluded, right?” Brannon said as he joined her.

  Cait gave him a long look. “I suspect you’re as bad as the rest of them.” Then she hesitated. “Thanks for helping out with the kid. She won’t listen to me, but then, I didn’t listen to my mom either.”

  “No problem. Let’s get some food.”

  To Preston’s credit, he’d arranged the camp in an orderly fashion, the tents pitched on higher ground in case of rain and the area around the fire pit cleared of debris. In the center of the pit, on an old metal grate, sat the bubbling stainless-steel pot of stew.

  Once she’d gotten herself a big bowl, she sat near her gear. Preston joined her.

  “Everything looks great,” Cait said. “Thanks for taking care of the others.”

  The assistant nodded. “Girl going to toe the line now?”

  “She said she would. You know how it is at that age—sometimes the brain just doesn’t work right.”

  Preston huffed. “Happens at any age.” He lowered his voice. “What did you find out about Hardegree? What’s his story?”

  Why would you care? “We didn’t talk much,” she lied. “We were too busy looking for the girl.”

  “Okay. I just wondered.”

  “Our photographer ever start being sociable?”

  “No. But he couldn’t get a word in edgewise with the Townsend woman or the writer yapping all the time. Gonna be a long week.”

  “That’s for sure.”

  As he walked away, Cait couldn’t help but wonder if Preston had messed with Mike’s truck. Had he wanted to lead the tour so badly that he’d risked his employer’s life? But what would be the point?

  If not him, then who?

  Her attention tracked back to Brannon where he sat by the other two women, eating his supper. If she kept it up, she’d be seeing enemies everywhere.

  *~*~*

  After supper, though it was pure busywork, Cait reorganized her rucksack. It was soothing, in a strange sort of way. She’d always done the same right before a mission.

  Trust your instincts. That had been Mike’s mantra for as long as she’d known him, and right now her instincts were twitchy. A sidelong glance proved that it was only her: Brannon leaned back against a tree, seemingly mellow. Maybe she was imagining things.

  One of the shrinks had cautioned that she was probably hooked on the adrenaline rush. She could easily find that in the swamp, especially when she was camping solo. Get hurt? She was on her own unless she could reach someone by phone. That part, she could deal with because she liked trusting her skills to keep her alive. But she missed her team as well. They’d been like a family, watching each other’s backs, joking, sharing life—and death.

  Occasionally, there had been some jackass who thought the women had joined up solely to keep his dick happy. That was until whoever was in charge got in the guy’s face, told him if he didn’t straighten the hell up, his life was going to get very unpleasant, very quickly. Most of the dudes got a clue and fell in line. If not, the women took care of the situation themselves. In one case, a private had learned exactly how brutal Cait could be when cornered.

  She reluctantly pulled herself out of her memories, because too often, they led to that dark voice whispering to her. Instead, she tuned in to the others’ conversation and found they’d moved from swamp life and history to politics.

  “No way you can trust this government,” Preston said. “If you think you can, you’re not paying attention.”

  She couldn’t resist. “Why don’t you trust them?”

  “You see what’s going on. Our liberties are disappearing, more each day.”

  In some ways, Preston was right; post-9/11 America had seen an erosion of personal rights, courtesy of Washington—some of which she didn’t think served any purpose. The new laws had been too heavy handed in some cases, a knee-jerk response to a horrific attack, one that security analysts had been sounding warnings about for years. The politicians had decided they didn’t want to scare the public with what could happen. Then reality had bitch-slapped the nation and people had died.

  “What about you, Hardegree?” she asked, intentionally trying to push a button to see how he’d react.

  “We’re losing control,” he said evenly. “Makes one wonder where it’s all headed.”

  “But what can you do about it?” Susan asked. “Other than sit around a campfire and complain?”

  “There’re ways to make it right again,” Brannon said. “Just depends on whether you have the balls or not.”

  Then he closed his eyes and shut all of them out, though she knew he was listening intently. She’d met disgruntled military folks over the years, some who hated the government, others who were gung-ho patriots. Most of them just bitched, but a few of them took it too far. Was he one of those?

  God, I hope not. She turned her attention back to the group. They’d moved on to discussing the military.

  “This government, they’re crazy,” Keith said. He’d spoken so infrequently that everyone’s attention swiveled in his direction. “All this politically correct bullshit. Now they’re talking about having chicks in the Special Forces. No way that should happen.”

  “Combat experience helps you advance rank,” Cait said, surprised she was even bothering to explain. “Right now, women are at a disadvantage.”

  “That shouldn’t even be an issue. Women have no place in the military,” Keith said. “They just don’t. Can’t handle the stress, can’t handle any of it. They fall apart when the first few bullets go flying. They get people killed.”

  “You’ve been in combat then?” she asked, suspecting he hadn’t. The people who tended to run their mouths hadn’t had bullets coming at them.

  “No, but I heard it from some of our vets. It’s God’s honest truth.”

  “It’s only a matter of time before a woman qualifies for Special Operations,” Brannon said, his eyes open again. “They’re getting close to it now.”

  “Then the government’s bending the rules for them.”

  “Not if they want to become Rangers.”

  “No, I’m not buying it,” Keith said.

  Hardegree rose and poured another cup of coffee. “A buddy of mine got shot in Fallujah. The medic crawled fifty feet through enemy fire to get to him, pulled him back to safety,” he said. “My friend is home now and has a brand-new baby. He wouldn’t have lived to hold his son if it hadn’t been for that soldier.”

  “See?” Keith said, nodding. “No woman could have done that.”

  Brannon looked up, pinning him with his eyes. “The medic’s name was Corporal Alice Meyers. She took a round in her shoulder, but she still saved my friend’s life. So I suggest you rethink your position about women in the military, because it’s complete bullshit.”

  Patti whistled under her breath. “Slap down,” she murmured.

  Keith rose. “It’s not bullshit. It’s the truth, but you just don’t want to hear it.” He stalked off to his tent and crawled inside. The sound of the zipper closing caused sighs of relief to run through the group.

  “Nothing quite like the peace and quiet of nature,” Preston said.

  Cait snorted as Brannon retreated to where he’d been sitting, squatting down to drink his cup of coffee. Cait gave him a nod of respect and he returned it. Then he reached for his phone to check his messages, as he did frequently.

  Must be a girlfriend. For some inexplicable reason, that made her sad.

  *~*~*

  Later, Cait did her usual rounds before heading to her tent. She’d made sure that Patti’s was on the far side of hers, away from James. That hadn’t gone down well with him. The girl had looked pointedly relieved and crashed early, no doubt still nursing a hangover.

  Cait glanced over as Brannon passed her on the way to his tent, which sat just next to hers.

/>   “’Night,” he said.

  “’Night.”

  Cait stripped out of her coat, then unzipped the flap and began to crawl inside. A faint rattle began, followed by a hissing sound. With a yelp, Cait rolled to the side as the snake struck at her. She flung her coat on top of it and it whipped underneath the garment, hissing louder. Slowly, she tugged the garment outside, praying it would keep the creature confined.

  “Something wrong?” Brannon said, leaning out of his own tent now.

  “Yeah, you could say that.” Cait carried the wriggling coat to the edge of the platform and shook it out. The snake dropped into the water.

  Brannon leaned over, watching it swim away. “Canebrake rattler?”

  “Yup.”

  “You get bit?”

  “Nope.” She frowned back at the tent. “I always keep the flap zipped. How did that thing get inside?”

  “That’s a damn good question.”

  He held the flashlight while she carefully removed everything from inside the shelter, verifying there was nothing else waiting to harm her. The rattler’s bite wouldn’t have immediately killed her, but she would have had to be evacuated to a hospital for treatment.

  Leaving Preston in charge.

  Brannon quietly called out her name, beckoning to her to join him at the back of the tent. She joined him as he shined the flashlight along the base of the shelter. There was a long, smooth slit in the nylon, like a knife would make.

  “Hell,” she muttered. This had been deliberate. “I guess I’ll have to duct tape it.”

  Brannon stared at her. “Someone just tried to kill you,” he said evenly. “You’re awfully casual about this.”

  “No, I’m angry, but I’m not going to waste that anger until I know who did it. Then I’m going to rip that person apart, slowly and with considerable malice.”

  His lopsided smile said he understood now. “Ooh-rah!!”

  “Exactly.”

  As he crawled into his tent, he said, “Goodnight, Caitlyn.”

  “Goodnight, Hardegree.”

  “Brannon.”

  After fixing the hole, Cait pulled all her gear into the tent and lay down on her sleeping bag. She had an enemy on the tour, one who wanted her incapacitated, or dead. Problem was, it could be almost any of them.