Special Forces: Operation Alpha: Redemption for Avery (Kindle Worlds Novella) (Ryker Townsend FBI Profiler Book 2) Read Online Free Page A
the dark trail behind me, guided only by the narrow beams of our flashlights.
“Dan Aykroyd was booked.”
“Not funny, Ryker.”
Moonlight dappled the ground and its blue haze cast deeply carved shadows into thick, scaly bark to make sinister shapes on the ponderosa pines. The chilly night air was thick with the pungent aroma of tree resin. Every sensation, from the cold mountain air to the ghostly images of moonlit shadows, put me back into my worst nightmare.
A year ago, I nearly died at the hands of the most frightening UNSUB I had ever faced in the remote mountains on the Prince of Wales Island in Alaska. Because I’d kept my gift a secret and hadn’t trusted anyone within the FBI, I became a victim. I still struggled with the trauma some nights and heard the whispers of my ordeal when I slept—the voice of my tormentor.
‘Death is powerful. Once someone is marked, no one can stop it, not even you.’
As much as I hated the taunt of those words, I embraced them. Those whispers reminded me how close I had come to dying.
‘You’re the voice of the dead. You watch over them, but who watches over you?’
I’d survived and my body had healed, but I would never be the same. I knew what being a victim meant and I’d even imagined my body on my ME’s autopsy table—cut up like store-bought chicken. My gift put me in harm’s way, but it also had thrown me the only lifeline I would get before Lucinda saved my sorry ass.
“You’re quiet. Are you okay?” she asked.
Her voice drowned out my mélange of demons and I loved her for it. Whenever I felt adrift on a vast sea, she’d become my island. Her voice grounded me in this reality and made me feel safe—and loved.
“Yeah, I’m good. We’re almost there. I can see the clearing.” I stopped at the edge of the marsh, turned off my flashlight, and shut my eyes tight to get my night vision. “No lights. If we’re not alone, it’s best we’re not a target.”
“Roger that.” Lucinda lowered her voice, as I had, and doused her Kel-Lite. “What’s the game plan, ghost whisperer?”
“I have no idea.”
I reached for my Glock and rested my hand on the grip as I searched the dark for anything that moved—alive or dead. When I heard Lucinda’s weapon clear her leather holster, she followed me into the clearing. I wanted to start where we’d found Lily’s body.
“You will tell me if we’re not alone, right?” she asked. “I left my 3-D glasses back in the nineties.”
I waved a hand and said, “Dead ahead.”
“Still not funny, Ryker.”
Chapter 4
San Bernardino National Forest
1:20 a.m.
When Ryker neared the site where Lily’s body had been discovered, Lucinda kept her eyes on him as much as she did the eerie surroundings. He had stopped walking and stared down at the flattened grasses that had been the butchered girl’s deathbed. As Lucinda gazed at his face, caught under the moon’s pale blue haze, his eyes were closed and his chest heaved for air as if he were drowning.
“What’s happening, Ryker? Talk to me,” she whispered.
He didn’t answer, not even when he dropped to his knees and his body moved to a swaying rhythm as if he were in the throes of a conjured vision.
“Who you gonna call?”
Thanks to Ryker, Lucinda endured the annoying ear worm of the Ghost Busters theme song playing incessantly in her head. In truth, the damned thing kept her calm.
When she heard a twig snap, she shifted her gun toward the sound and peered through the shadows. She held her breath and took aim.
“I heard something. We have company,” she hissed. “Ryker?”
He didn’t answer, but she couldn’t leave him. He would be in no condition to respond to a threat. Lucinda gripped her weapon tighter. When the silhouettes of trees took shape and tall grasses heaved in the wind with a menacing rustle, her eyes and mind played tricks on her.
What the hell?
If the UNSUB lurked in the pine trees and watched them, she could deal with
“Dan Aykroyd was booked.”
“Not funny, Ryker.”
Moonlight dappled the ground and its blue haze cast deeply carved shadows into thick, scaly bark to make sinister shapes on the ponderosa pines. The chilly night air was thick with the pungent aroma of tree resin. Every sensation, from the cold mountain air to the ghostly images of moonlit shadows, put me back into my worst nightmare.
A year ago, I nearly died at the hands of the most frightening UNSUB I had ever faced in the remote mountains on the Prince of Wales Island in Alaska. Because I’d kept my gift a secret and hadn’t trusted anyone within the FBI, I became a victim. I still struggled with the trauma some nights and heard the whispers of my ordeal when I slept—the voice of my tormentor.
‘Death is powerful. Once someone is marked, no one can stop it, not even you.’
As much as I hated the taunt of those words, I embraced them. Those whispers reminded me how close I had come to dying.
‘You’re the voice of the dead. You watch over them, but who watches over you?’
I’d survived and my body had healed, but I would never be the same. I knew what being a victim meant and I’d even imagined my body on my ME’s autopsy table—cut up like store-bought chicken. My gift put me in harm’s way, but it also had thrown me the only lifeline I would get before Lucinda saved my sorry ass.
“You’re quiet. Are you okay?” she asked.
Her voice drowned out my mélange of demons and I loved her for it. Whenever I felt adrift on a vast sea, she’d become my island. Her voice grounded me in this reality and made me feel safe—and loved.
“Yeah, I’m good. We’re almost there. I can see the clearing.” I stopped at the edge of the marsh, turned off my flashlight, and shut my eyes tight to get my night vision. “No lights. If we’re not alone, it’s best we’re not a target.”
“Roger that.” Lucinda lowered her voice, as I had, and doused her Kel-Lite. “What’s the game plan, ghost whisperer?”
“I have no idea.”
I reached for my Glock and rested my hand on the grip as I searched the dark for anything that moved—alive or dead. When I heard Lucinda’s weapon clear her leather holster, she followed me into the clearing. I wanted to start where we’d found Lily’s body.
“You will tell me if we’re not alone, right?” she asked. “I left my 3-D glasses back in the nineties.”
I waved a hand and said, “Dead ahead.”
“Still not funny, Ryker.”
Chapter 4
San Bernardino National Forest
1:20 a.m.
When Ryker neared the site where Lily’s body had been discovered, Lucinda kept her eyes on him as much as she did the eerie surroundings. He had stopped walking and stared down at the flattened grasses that had been the butchered girl’s deathbed. As Lucinda gazed at his face, caught under the moon’s pale blue haze, his eyes were closed and his chest heaved for air as if he were drowning.
“What’s happening, Ryker? Talk to me,” she whispered.
He didn’t answer, not even when he dropped to his knees and his body moved to a swaying rhythm as if he were in the throes of a conjured vision.
“Who you gonna call?”
Thanks to Ryker, Lucinda endured the annoying ear worm of the Ghost Busters theme song playing incessantly in her head. In truth, the damned thing kept her calm.
When she heard a twig snap, she shifted her gun toward the sound and peered through the shadows. She held her breath and took aim.
“I heard something. We have company,” she hissed. “Ryker?”
He didn’t answer, but she couldn’t leave him. He would be in no condition to respond to a threat. Lucinda gripped her weapon tighter. When the silhouettes of trees took shape and tall grasses heaved in the wind with a menacing rustle, her eyes and mind played tricks on her.
What the hell?
If the UNSUB lurked in the pine trees and watched them, she could deal with
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