Page 8

6

Diego shed most of his humanity as he ran up the mountain, setting a fast pace as he swerved around the trees, ducked beneath branches, and leapt over the ribbons of water. Nearly every genetic enhancement he had was that of a predator. He utilized every one of the acute senses to aid him in his run toward the gorge where he’d left the bodies.

The owl had shown him there were five intruders on the mountain. She indicated her disdain for them by ruffling her feathers and sending a warning cry echoing through the trees. Her disdain grew when not a single man looked up to spot her as she sat in the tree right above their heads, her body elongated, frozen in place as she watched the men moving around, eyes to the ground, looking for tracks. She shared the impressions with Diego.

Diego continued his run without missing a stride, but he had the exact location of the five men. They were looking for signs, casting back and forth. One continually sniffed at the air and ground. The owl watched that man with some curiosity, showing Diego the strange way he ran his nose through the leaves and brush around the site where Diego had shot and killed their fellow soldiers.

Diego expanded his senses to encompass the area just above where the men were searching. A field of rocks and boulders studded the mountain, jutting out and forming what Diego called a basking knoll for snakes. Two ribbons of water wound their way through the rocks, bubbling over smaller stones. Diego knew timber rattlers had a den in the caves concealed by the rocks. The knoll was the perfect place to curl up in the sun, out of the trees.

Timber rattlers were carnivores. They hunted voles, rabbits, mice, squirrels and any other small rodent. The water close by was a draw to the rodents and allowed them access as well. Often a den could hold several hundred snakes until the males left the pregnant females. Diego knew exactly where that den was.

As he ran up the side of the mountain, he took advantage of the owl’s information, checking the exact position of each of the men hunting Leila. The man Diego targeted first was the “sniffer.” He ran his nose along the ground, hunting for any evidence of Leila’s passing. Diego had worked to rid the forest floor and adjacent area of any blood splatter, but the scent would be there. It might be faint, but most animals could ferret it out. A sniffer was a soldier who had an enhanced sense of smell.

As he continued his route along the narrow game trail that wound through trees and beds of rock, Diego used the owl’s vision to study his opponent. The man continually ran his nose along the debris on the forest floor. Once he had the sniffer pinpointed, Diego expanded his mind to include several of the larger timber rattlers.

The rattlesnakes’ scales were brown, with the zigzag bands running across the body being a dark black. The pattern was distinctive, identifying the timber rattlesnake. At the tip of the tail was a hollow rattle. Heads were triangular and bodies thick. It was easy to identify a timber rattler, but not always easy to see them, especially when they moved through the leaves and debris on the forest floor with its dappled light.

He nudged the larger ones, agitating them, before he took command of them. The smallest of the six that slithered beneath the leaves and twigs on the forest floor was a little over four feet long, but the others were much larger. The biggest snake was almost seven feet long and most likely weighed in at nine pounds. He directed the snakes toward the sniffer, who continued to run his nose through the leaves and dirt on the trail of blood Leila had left behind.

The timber rattlers were silent as they surrounded the man, the largest positioning himself directly in the path the sniffer was traveling. The moment the man’s head went down to trail through the leaves, all six snakes struck, rearing back to deliver a full load of venom before heeding Diego’s command to leave the area fast.

The sniffer screamed and rolled over and over, trying to cover his face, his chest, both thighs and arms all at the same time. The other men in his unit rushed to him, tried to hold him down to determine what happened. One brought up his rifle, aiming in the direction of the fleeing snakes. The owl launched herself into the air, flying straight at the shooter, talons extended, her powerful wings carrying her swiftly from the branches above them straight to the attackers.

The man trying to spray the ground with bullets shrieked in fear and pain as the owl raked her talons over his face, ripping skin and one eye. The force of her blow sent him tumbling backward. She pulled up at the last moment, flying toward the forest and the safety of the trees.

Diego urged the snakes to a faster pace, getting them out of harm’s way. All the while he continued to run up the mountain, using the faint game trails that cut through the trees and brush. He had put the snakes and owl in jeopardy in order to slow down the five men. He didn’t want them anywhere near Leila. If anything went wrong, he was determined to take all of them with him.

The owl continued to send images to Diego. The sniffer had stopped screaming, but he writhed around on the ground, moans and groans coming from his throat. Two of his fellow soldiers knelt beside him, attempting to assess the wounds. The fifth soldier crouched beside the man with the torn face.

Diego slowed as he approached the group of men. He stopped just inside the tree line, his gaze moving over the scene. Each snake had done its job, injecting a full load of venom into the sniffer. The neurotoxin was already spreading fast through his body. No matter what his friends did to try to save him, it wasn’t going to work.

While the two men worked on the sniffer, the third was doing his best to bandage the face of the soldier the great horned owl had attacked.

“Hold still, Duncan,” the soldier hissed. He looked warily around. “We must be close to her nest. They’ll defend their territory fiercely.”

“I didn’t have time to shoot her,” Duncan groused, clutching his weapon. He rocked back and forth. “I’m going to lose my eye, Terry.”

“Yeah,” Terry replied. “Not going to lie to you.”

“I don’t understand why they want that bitch so badly,” Duncan said. “What can Leila do that we can’t? They’ve always coddled her. If we catch up with her, I’m killing her. The commander isn’t going to know how she died.”

“I think she killed the entire team,” one of the two men attending to the sniffer put in. “They were good at their job, but she’s on a different level, whether you want to believe it or not.”

Duncan snorted. “How good can she be? She had the same training we did, and she’s a female. She has no business being a soldier.”

Terry was silent as he continued to clean up the wound from the owl’s talons. Duncan swore over and over. Finally, Terry sighed. “I agree with Gerald, Duncan. That woman may be small, but she’s got skills none of us have. She wiped out Leon and his friends, and that was after they bashed her in the head. It’s more than possible she killed the team bringing her up the mountain.”

The second man treating the sniffer turned to look at Terry. “How? You heard what they said on the radio. She was probably going to die from her wounds.” He sank back on his heels, turning his attention to the sniffer once more. “You’re not going to make it, bud.” He pulled out a small revolver, pressed it to the sniffer’s temple and pulled the trigger.

The act should have been shocking to Diego, but he was half expecting it. He was somewhat surprised that they didn’t do the same thing to Duncan. He was going to slow them down.

“We don’t have time for this crap,” the soldier who had pulled the trigger snapped. “The helicopter isn’t going to wait for us.” He stood up. “We’ve got to run that bitch down and end her fast. That’s the only solution to this. She’s responsible for how many dead?”

Gerald stood, backing away from the sniffer’s body. “Damn, Pete, you could’ve warned me.” He flashed a scowl at his fellow soldier. “And yeah, I agree with you all that the bitch has to die. We need to find her fast and get rid of her. I’m just going to point out that you’d better not underestimate her.”

“I don’t think she’s all that,” Duncan snarled. “Damn, this hurts.”

“You tried to get with her once,” Pete said. “I remember she turned you down flat.”

Terry and Gerald helped Duncan to stand. He shoved them away. “Yeah, the little bitch thinks she’s so much better than everyone else. I say she isn’t.”

“Then where’s Harold and his men? All they had to do was haul her ass up the mountain to the rendezvous site,” Terry said. “She was wounded. We know that much.” He gestured around him. “This was their last known location. She isn’t here and neither are they. You want to explain that?”

“It wasn’t her,” Duncan muttered mutinously.

Terry indicated the sniffer’s body. “He said there was a bloodbath here, but the trail ended. How? If there was a bloodbath and Harold and his men were still alive, they’d be making their way to us. They’ve disappeared. That should tell you something.”

“So you believe one wounded woman killed them all and disposed of their bodies?” Duncan demanded. He sounded heated, angry and even confrontational.

Diego wasn’t surprised by the aggression in the men. Each of them had been enhanced with predatory genetics in order to make them faster and stronger. He didn’t understand how those running the laboratory, which had been in existence since the Vietnam War, continued to make the same mistakes Whitney was making. Whitney enhanced psychically, something these soldiers didn’t appear to have had done to them, but the animal genetics alone were enough to raise their aggression levels off the charts.

Diego knew from his talks with Luther that those recruiting soldiers to the enhancement program were proud of the fact that they didn’t conduct the kinds of experiments Whitney did, yet they had to see that a good number of their soldiers were spiraling out of control, just as Whitney’s often did. Psychiatric tests were imperative. By now they had to know that, yet they continued to make the same mistakes.

He believed that the soldiers volunteered in good faith. They had no idea what those altered genetics were going to do to them. He hadn’t known, and the predatory aggression was difficult to keep under control. He was surrounded by men who had a strict code. Many of the soldiers from the lab Leila came from seemed to be sent out alone or put with others who, as they became more aggressive, egged one another on.

Diego had many enhancements—some he’d developed into razor-sharp weapons and others he was good at, just not expert. What he was particularly good at was his affinity with the local wildlife. He sent out a call to those nearby. A male fox, two bobcats, a raccoon family, as well as several skunks in the vicinity.

The Appalachian Mountains had a certain reputation. Not just a reputation—they were, quite frankly, eerie. Diego’s call was haunting and seemed to reverberate through the trees. He sent it several times, with a long silence in between so the soldiers couldn’t fail to notice the sudden lack of droning insects.

He looked toward the sky and sent out a call for the turkey vultures and red-tailed hawks. Then he sent another call for beetles and bottle flies to join the feast. His next haunting call was to all scavengers in the area. When the last notes ended, echoing through the deeper forest, fog began to drift out of the trees into the clearing. The fog was low to the ground and resembled fingers extending toward the four remaining soldiers.

The men looked at one another uneasily. “I hate this place,” Duncan declared. “Let’s get on with it. The sooner we find her and kill her, the quicker we go home and I get medical treatment.”

“We aren’t killing her,” Terry stated. His voice was low but firm.

Duncan spun around. “No one put you in charge,” he sneered. “Majority rules, and we all say she dies if she isn’t already dead.”

Diego studied the soldier named Terry. He didn’t change expression when Duncan confronted him, nor did he back down. He did wait for the others to begin moving in the general direction of the small ravine the sniffer had most likely pointed them toward. Terry didn’t pull his weapon or aim the automatic slung around his neck, but his hand brushed both guns as he began to trail behind the others.

“Turkey vultures,” Gerald announced, indicating the sky a short distance away. “A lot of them.”

Pete scowled up at the circling birds. More and more joined those in the sky. Some sank down below the trees where they couldn’t see them. “If we’re lucky, it’ll be Leila and we can get the hell out of here.”

“I told you,” Duncan said, his voice triumphant, despite the bandages covering one entire side of his face. “She’s dead. The boys are probably nursing a few wounds, and their coms aren’t working.”

Terry shook his head, clearly not believing the way the others did. He let a few more feet separate them. When Gerald glanced back at him, Terry crouched in the dirt and studied the ground as if looking for tracks. Gerald relaxed visibly. Not too bright, Diego decided. Terry was the one decent man with the others. Diego could read his resolve. If they found Leila, she wasn’t the one who was going to die. At last, evidence that there were soldiers like Luther, who had a strong moral code.

Pete was the first one to get to the top of the ridge. He simply went in the direction of the vultures. The birds were everywhere, on branches of trees, on the rocks and circling in the sky. There were several already on the ground, tearing at carcasses strewn around a few feet below the ridge. A moving carpet of beetles covered the ground and whatever dead carrion lay there. Bottle flies were everywhere, their bluish-green bodies flashing in the streaks of sunlight.

The fog hadn’t made it into the ravine, but it was slowly moving that way. A red-tailed hawk dropped from the trees, passing through tendrils of the ghostly grayish mist, moving relentlessly toward the gorge, landing on the ground beside the beetles. An opossum ambled through the grass and rocks to sniff at the very edge of one of the mounds covered in insects.

The wind shifted slightly, carrying the smell of rotting flesh to those on the ridge. Duncan swore and turned his face away from the sight.

“It’s not Leila,” Pete said unnecessarily. “I think we just found Harold’s team.”

“She couldn’t have done this,” Duncan insisted. “She’s not good enough that she could have killed all of them. How could she be? Have you seen her?” There was bitter distaste in his voice.

Gerald moved closer to the edge to peer down at the bodies. “Every damn one of them,” he announced. He crouched down, one hand rubbing his jaw as he studied the scene below. The wind tugged at his hair, and the fog swirled around him.

Diego let loose another eerie cry that sounded as if it came from deep within the forest, much like the wail of a banshee, a heralding of death. The wind and fog rushed toward the soldiers in a sudden surge. A bobcat emerged from the trees, snarling, staring at Pete, malevolence in his yellow eyes. The cat was difficult to see with its coloring and the gray of the thickening mist.

Pete tried to bring up the rifle that was hanging by a strap around his neck. As he did so, the great horned owl shot out of the fog, striking the soldier with blunt force, talons piercing his hand and neck. The rifle dropped from the nerveless hand and would have fallen to the ground if it hadn’t been for the strap.

Amid a flutter of wings, the sky darkening for a moment, Duncan, Pete and Terry could barely make out the bobcat spinning around after it snarled, showing its teeth. It faded into the swirling fog and then was gone into the forest. The great horned owl did the same, its coloring allowing it to disappear as if it had never been. The only evidence that the owl had been there was the blood dripping steadily from Pete’s broken hand.

Once again, the forest went totally silent. After the rush of strange activity, the silence was almost deafening. At first, it was the lack of insects droning and the absence of the scuttering of lizards and mice through the leaves. Then they became aware of the number of vultures sitting in the branches of the trees. The gleaming black feathers stood out as black shapes, not just on the tree limbs but on several of the larger boulders lining the ridge. The turkey vultures, and there easily could have been thirty or more, stared at them with round, beady eyes. The combination of ominous silence and the strange behavior of the birds created a creepy, almost supernatural atmosphere.

“Wait,” Terry whispered. “Where’s Gerald?”

Immediately the three men stared at the spot where Gerald had been crouching, looking down into the narrow, somewhat shallow gorge.

“Where’d he go?” Pete asked, his voice no more than a whisper.

Terry took a step toward the edge of the ridge and then halted abruptly, his hand going to the M4 strapped around his neck. “There’s blood on the ground.”

The men gripped their rifles and formed a loose circle, going back-to-back as they surveyed their surroundings.

“Moving to the ridgeline,” Terry announced, taking slow, careful steps toward the spot where Gerald had last been seen.

Diego’s respect for Terry went up another notch. Terry was determined to look out for his fellow teammate. Duncan desperately wanted to lead the others, but he was clearly reluctant to go near the gorge. His gaze was fixed on the forest. The vultures and the last appearance of the owl had traumatized him. His hands trembled so much that his rifle was visibly shaking. Pete moved in sync with Terry, covering his back, but Duncan stayed where he was, his head swiveling from one side to the other.

Diego was patient. He didn’t like leaving Leila for too long, but she was safe. He had not received any indication from his wildlife spies that others were hunting her. He also trusted her abilities. Leila had already proved herself in battle. She might be injured, and he wasn’t discounting how badly she was hurt, but she would fight if she had to. He believed her safe where she was. That gave him time to manage the soldiers hunting her.

Terry, his finger on the trigger, crouched low to examine the ground. “There’s fresh blood here. It looks as if he fell off the edge.” He peered down, stiffened and then rose. “It’s hard to see with this fog. It seems to be getting thicker, but I’m sure his body is down there.”

“What?” Pete said, whirling around. “Is he alive?”

“I don’t think so. He’s lying on top of the mass of beetles. Those are bodies down there for sure. It’s no wonder the vultures took flight with Gerald falling on top of them,” Terry reasoned. He continued to study the motionless body, trying to see through the swirling gray of the fog. “He isn’t moving.”

“We need to get out of here,” Duncan proclaimed urgently, still not changing his position. “Right now.”

“We have to check,” Terry said. “We have to ensure he’s really dead and doesn’t need our help.”

“Screw that,” Duncan shouted, suddenly turning his weapon toward Terry.

“Think about it, Duncan,” Pete said. “We can’t just go back and tell the commander we left his body here. He’s going to send someone to check on this site. If Gerald is still alive, and we’ve just left him to die, we’re all going to be court-martialed.”

Duncan swore, his voice harsh as he uttered one foul curse after another. “If you’re going to go down there, get to it. I’ve got to get to a medic.” He backed farther away from the ridge, separating himself from the other two.

If he were Pete and Terry, Diego wouldn’t trust that Duncan wouldn’t attempt to kill them. Neither of the two soldiers seemed to consider that Duncan might be that close to losing all courage.

Terry set his pack on the ground and rummaged through it, coming up with rope, which he securely anchored. “I’ll go down.”

“Make it fast,” Duncan muttered and took a few more steps to put distance between him and the others. Twice his finger stroked the trigger of his rifle, his narrowed gaze on Terry.

Diego didn’t want to shoot him. He preferred to add to the legend of the mountains, but he wasn’t going to allow the man to murder the one decent soldier on the team. Keeping his eye on Duncan, Diego began to circle around to get behind him. Pete was concerned with protecting Terry from falling as he rappelled down the side of the gorge. It wasn’t particularly deep, but it was steep. Diego didn’t want either of the two men paying attention to the retreating Duncan.

To ensure Duncan didn’t decide to shoot his fellow soldiers, Diego gave an order to the bobcat. He didn’t want to spook Duncan into firing but did want his concentration to be on the eyes shining at him through the swirling fog. Bobcats were nocturnal creatures, and as a rule their various vocalizations added to the eerie reputation of the Appalachian Mountains.

The cat wasn’t happy with Diego summoning him from his den during daylight hours. He answered the call reluctantly, made his appearance and was already retreating when Diego sent out another call for aid. Diego’s summons sounded like a male challenging the other male for territory, but the notes were slightly off. Just enough for the bobcat to know Diego’s call.

Duncan froze when he heard the unnerving snarl. It was impossible for him to tell where the frightening sound was coming from. That meant he couldn’t pinpoint where the cat was. The soldier began to turn in circles, his anxiety climbing.

Pete glanced up, looking toward the forest, but then, seeing nothing, turned his attention back to Terry, although he continued to glance toward the forest every few moments. The fog swirled in the air, growing heavier. Rising higher. Shadowy and murky, the mist diminished the ability to see clearly.

Pete called out, “Watch our backs, Duncan.”

Duncan ignored him, moving even farther from the forest and the ridge, trying to get to the only spot that was relatively clear. The ground was clear, even of rocks, a large oak tree with low-hanging branches providing the only cover. Duncan inspected the tree.

Diego nudged the cat to not only give the soldier a low warning hiss of displeasure but also show himself briefly from a distance, assuring the animal through images that he would be grateful and the cat could go back to its den. The bobcat provided the distraction Diego needed, emerging from the fog, eyes shining evilly, fixed on Duncan as if he were prey.

Duncan whimpered and lifted the rifle to aim toward the bobcat. It had already slunk back into the forest, the fog dropping that shadowy veil. Diego took the opportunity to climb the tree. The moment he was in the branches, he froze, exactly the way the great horned owl did, his body appearing to be part of the tree should Duncan look up again.

Duncan retreated, step-by-step, until his back was against the solid trunk, his wary gaze fixed on the spot where the bobcat had disappeared. So close to him, Diego could see how badly the soldier was shaking. He had been the most aggressive, yet he was the one truly falling apart. He had no business being amped up. Diego couldn’t imagine what his psychiatric evaluation had been like, but those in charge of the laboratory should have known better.

Duncan had easily shot his friend in the head because he didn’t want to be bothered to wait for him to die. He didn’t want to expend any time trying to make him comfortable while he was dying. Duncan’s life was all about Duncan. As a rule, the teams were a brotherhood, but Duncan didn’t fit into that unless he was the leader and he could have all the attention.

Diego watched him for a few moments as Duncan switched his attention back and forth between where the bobcat had disappeared and Pete. Each time he put his attention on Pete, he stroked the trigger of his rifle. Diego would have bet a month’s pay that he was considering shooting Pete and cutting the rope that would allow Terry to make his way back up to the ridge.

Diego inverted, moving like a lethal, hunting leopard down the trunk of the tree in complete silence. He didn’t so much as disturb a leaf. Fear had a smell to it, and Duncan stunk of it. He was continually squirming, twitching, and turning his head from side to side in quick, jerky movements.

Diego found a pattern in the way Duncan’s neck twisted and turned, moved forward and then back. Using the strength of his legs to hold him, he waited for Duncan’s head to come toward him. Striking quickly, he wrapped one arm around Duncan’s neck and placed his other hand on the back of the head, tilting it forward to control him as he applied pressure to the neck. The force was great enough that it instantly cut off the blood supply to the brain. It took nearly ten seconds for Duncan to go limp.

Diego eased him down to the ground and covered his mouth and nose with his hand, cutting off the air supply. Duncan’s body reacted to the lack of blood to the brain and now the lack of air. Diego was relentless, waiting patiently, keeping his body in the shadow of the tree. The fog thickened. Silence reigned. Even after he was certain the life was gone from the soldier, Diego waited a few more moments, checked him and then disappeared into the fog, retreating to the edge of the trees, where he could watch Pete.

Diego had a decision to make. He didn’t kill innocents. Not that he thought Terry was all that innocent. More than likely, he was a man similar to Diego. Still, Terry seemed to have a code. He knew Duncan had planned to kill him. Pete most likely knew it as well. They had plotted to kill Leila. Terry was the only voice of objection. Did Diego kill him simply because he was part of the unit under orders to retrieve Leila? That didn’t sit well with him.

Movement caught his eye, and Diego watched as Terry pulled himself over the ridge and sat for a moment, catching his breath.

“I take it Gerald is dead,” Pete greeted, sounding resigned.

“They’re all dead, and so is Gerald. Someone cut him all to hell with a blade. Thighs, armpits, throat. If it was Leila, she had to be extremely fast. Gerald was no slouch.”

“You sure she cut him to pieces? He was right there in front of us. I had my eyes on him. At least I thought I did.” Pete rubbed at the bristles on his jaw. “Snake bites, owl attacks, what the hell is going on?”

“I don’t know if it was Leila,” Terry admitted. “But whoever killed Gerald did it right under our noses.” He sat up straighter and looked around. “Where’s Duncan?”

“Bobcat scared the piss out of him,” Pete said, a sneer in his voice. “He would have run like a rabbit if he wasn’t afraid of being alone.” He jerked his head in the direction of the tiny clearing. “He made sure he was safe. I don’t think either one of us is safe from him though.”

“He knows I’m not going to allow him to kill Leila.” Terry made it a statement. Daring Pete to contradict him.

Diego could see Terry was ready for action. Concealed from Pete, Terry had wrapped his fist around his knife and gently, stealthily drew it from the leather scabbard on his belt.

Pete sighed. “I knew that was going to be a problem for you. Damn it, Terry. She’s bad news. If she did this”—he indicated the dead men in the gorge—“we’re in trouble. If they all died trying to get her back, how do you think two of us have a chance to bring her in? Think about it. If we get her in our sights from a distance, shooting her would be a mercy for all of us. I need to get back to the lab and get my injuries taken care of as quickly as possible.”

Diego found it interesting how Pete could sound so reasonable. Maybe he believed what he was saying. He didn’t make a move against Terry. It was possible Pete’s enhanced instincts allowed him to realize the danger he was in. He also didn’t believe Pete. Pete wanted Leila dead. Why? What was it that made these men want to kill her? Did she know something about them they wanted to keep hidden?

Terry nodded slowly and glanced toward the tiny clearing. The fog continued to swirl through the trees and across the rocks. “I think it would be a good idea for you and Duncan to get back as soon as possible to rendezvous with the helicopter to get you out of here. I’ll see if I can pick up any tracks. If I can’t, I’ll double-time it to catch up with you.”

Pete nodded and rose. “I think that’s a good plan. I’ll see what Duncan has to say. He wants out of here, so I can’t imagine him objecting.”

It was Pete’s voice, so reasonable and cooperative, that told Diego he planned to murder Terry. Pete sauntered over to the clearing, his large frame disappearing and reappearing in the swirling mist. Diego moved with him, circling around, never taking his gaze from his target. He was four feet from him when Pete stopped abruptly, his entire body stiffening.

“What is it?” Terry asked, letting Diego know the soldier hadn’t taken his eyes off his companion.

“I think he’s dead, Terry.”

“Dead?” Terry echoed.

Diego didn’t blame Terry for thinking it was a setup.

“Yeah,” Pete snarled. “Dead.”

Terry remained silent, a good tactic, Diego thought. He wasn’t a man to make quick decisions. He assessed a situation thoroughly before he made a move.

Pete took a couple of steps toward Duncan’s body. Duncan looked small, crumpled on the ground. There was no doubt he was dead. Pete looked around, looked up into the tree and then crouched down to examine the body.

“I’m not sure what killed him,” Pete announced, “but he’s still holding his gun.”

Diego watched as Pete bent over Duncan’s body and removed a revolver from his boot. He checked it and then reached behind him to shove the weapon into the back of his belt. Before he could stand, Diego was on him, plunging a knife into the back of his neck, severing the spinal cord. Pete went down face-first as Diego slipped into the shadows.

“He’s dead as well,” Diego announced calmly. “He planned to murder you with Duncan’s holdout gun.”

There was silence. Terry didn’t bother to duck down in an effort to save himself. Instead, he stood up, facing the sound of Diego’s voice.

“Who are you?”

“Name is Diego Campos.”

Terry was silent. It was clear he knew the name. Most soldiers did. Diego had a reputation with his rifle.

“Your men tried to rape Leila while she was severely wounded and couldn’t defend herself. I left their bodies in the gorge for the vultures.”

“They weren’t my men.”

“And these men, the ones you’re traveling with, planned to kill her.”

“I’m aware.” Terry didn’t defend himself or try to explain that he would have protected Leila if he could.

“They planned to murder you.”

“I’m aware,” Terry repeated.

“You tell your commanding officer if he persists, he’s going to have a war with the GhostWalkers on his hands. Won’t be difficult to find me if he wants to pursue this.”

“They want Leila back. Is she alive?”

“You tell them to leave it alone.”

“And it’s over?”

“I’m not making any promises.” Diego left it at that. He slipped back into the forest and waited until Terry made up his mind to start back up the trail. Only then did he do cleanup, depositing the bodies with the others in the gorge.