Free Murder Game by Christine Feehan Page B

single seta could lift nearly fifty pounds of weight. He could support his entire body weight with just one hand. It had taken him a great deal of time to learn to use his ability to “walk” over any surface, even hanging upside down, but the weeks of training had been well worth it. He could stick and unstick himself at least ten times a second as he ran up walls.
    He moved slowly now, but ordinarily he could climb the face of rock in minutes. Sticking was easy enough. Unsticking was a bit more of a problem, but he’d learned the technique over time, until he could move with incredible speed when necessary. Unfortunately, he often wore a thin pair of gloves to cover the fact that the pads of his fingers were different. The microscopic hairs were bristles, unseen but felt. He knew what Tansy felt like always having to cover her differences. He’d learned to live with the strange pads and embrace the things he could do with them, after the first wave of anger at discovering he was genetically altered as well as psychically. If the GhostWalkers’ enemy in the White House knew that all the men and women in the program had been genetically as well as psychically enhanced, Kadan was certain the order would have already gone out to destroy them all. Or maybe he knew and thought of them as abominations and that’s why he was so determined to rid the government of their services. Kadan had heard the term applied to them before.
    Once above the forest, he lay flat and took a cautious look around the area below him. He studied each section. Tansy would have slipped deeper into the woods below. It would take a few minutes for the shock to wear off, and then she’d seize the opportunity to make a run for it. He sighed, knowing he was going to have to track her again for sure.
    Kadan picked out the route that would be the sniper’s best choice and spent a patient ten minutes watching the brush for movement. The wind picked up in strength as the night wore on, and the needles in the trees and the leaves on the bushes began to gently sway. Everything in him tightened. The sniper would move with the wind.
    Motion just south of Tansy’s camp caught his eye and he focused there, catching sight of a blur of darkness moving behind the trees before disappearing. He let out his breath. He had the man now, and he quickly plotted a course to intercept. Just as he began to move, he caught a glimpse of something sticking out from behind a fairly large tree trunk. He studied the shape carefully, wishing he hadn’t shrugged out of his pack. He could have used his field glasses, because he suspected that strange shape was something commonly known as “tree cancer,” a body part protruding from behind the trunk that indicated that a sniper had set up shop there and was waiting for his spotter to mark a distance.
    His heart contracted painfully. What the hell were they setting up? Or whom?
    Tansy, where are you? No bullshit. There’s two of them. I need to know your position to know that you’re safe.
    Telepathy over long distance was always shaky, especially connecting with the same wavelength of someone he wasn’t very familiar with. Oftentimes there could be a few seconds—or even minutes—of delay. He counted every heartbeat, wondering if she was being stubborn or hiding from him. Wondering if she knew that the more they communicated, the easier the intimacy of mind contact would become. She wouldn’t want that. She wouldn’t want him running around in her head. She already had too many strangers there.
    Then she was there, flooding his mind with her. His body reacted to her close proximity, the sweetness of her, the feminine rush of heat and silk. The taste of cinnamon bursting in his mouth. There was fear, determination, even courage, although she didn’t recognize herself as courageous. Mostly she was filled with concern—not for him, certainly not for herself—but for the cougar.
    He groaned aloud. That damned cat. She’d