Major Roseland Salsberry had just condemned hundreds, if not thousands, of innocent men, women and children to death. She’d included the soldiers trying to stop the rogue unit, the GhostWalkers and SEALs, the men from the Navy base, the security men desperately trying to help get the innocent out. Bellisia wasn’t about to let her get away with it.
She could see the woman walking so casually while around her the crowd was running. Crying children were pushed to the ground while frantic parents tried to yank them up before they could be trampled over. Salsberry smiled as she surveyed the scene of utter chaos, as if she knew that was what would happen, and she was so happy it had.
Bellisia slipped up beside her, brushed close, close enough to deliver the bite that would end Salsberry’s life. It was easy enough to push the venom of the blue-ringed octopus into her system without her even feeling more than an insect sting for a second. The woman was too busy basking in the glory of her success to even notice. It was easy to match those careful, measured steps as they moved away from the crowd and in the opposite direction of the parking garage.
Already the venom was beginning to work. Whitney had made certain to amp up the amount of venom she released into the body of her victim so there was no way they could be saved. Salsberry was obviously feeling something in her hands and arms, most likely numbness or tingling, because she kept rubbing them.
“My name is Bellisia Fortunes,” she said softly as they walked together through the crowd. Deliberately, she spoke in a low tone so Salsberry would have to listen. “I don’t know if your security clearance is high enough or not, but there’s a program in the military known as the GhostWalkers.”
She saw by Salsberry’s face, that quick glance at her, that she had heard of them. The woman tried to speak, but nothing came out, her voice box was already affected by the poison. It was taking hold fast with the walking, moving it through her system very quickly. In another minute she would go down and there would be nothing anyone could do.
Bellisia smiled at her as if they were co-conspirators. “I see that you have. I’m a GhostWalker. I’m actually designed to be one of their premier assassins and I’m very, very good at my job, Roseland. I just want you to know that you’re dead, and if anyone deserves it, you do.” She turned and walked away. Behind her, the body dropped to the sidewalk.
Bellisia hurried back toward the parking garage. She skipped like a child might up the sidewalk, just in case there were cameras on her. It didn’t take long to catch up with the couple, Tania and Tommy Leven. They were laughing as they hurried into the garage, on that first floor. They paused, Tommy throwing his arms around Tania and pushing her up against the side of the concrete building to kiss her over and over.
“This was such a rush, Tommy,” Tania whispered, “I love you so much.”
“I love you too,” he said.
Bellisia fell into them. Tommy reached out to steady her. Tania did the same. The small bites were delivered, the venom going in easily. Bellisia smiled up at them, looking for all the world like a pleased child, one with faint blue rings scattered across her skin.
“Thanks.”
The two ignored her and, arms around each other, started toward their car. Their pace slowed. Tania staggered and Tommy tried to catch her just as her legs gave out. They both went down. Hard. Neither was able to break their fall. They fell and lay very still.
Amaryllis removed the red wig, rolled it tightly and carefully laid it up against the column closest to the vehicles near Treadway’s rented SUV. She backed carefully into the shadows and removed the skirt and blouse, making certain she was out of every camera angle and left that clothing, also rolled as if she were trying to hide it, behind another column. Beneath the attire, she wore her yoga pants and tee, the ones that reflected the background around her, the ones that helped her disappear into any environment. She left her shoes tucked under a car, just barely so they could be seen.
Her hair was already pulled up tightly and slicked back with mesh over it so her wig had stayed on easily. She slipped on soft-soled shoes and looked up at the garage’s cameras. Immediately, the energy she sent out short-circuited them. The explosion was dramatic, the sound a loud pop as glass shattered throughout the floor.
Callendine whirled around, his gun out. He looked at the glass on the floor and then up at the camera. He wasn’t a coward; he straightened slowly and then, taking his time, walked over to examine the shards, looking to see how the glass had been broken. In doing so, he discovered the red wig rolled so tightly and placed against the wide cement support column. He touched it with the toe of his shoe and then turned, back to the column to search the garage.
He knew he was in a hunt. He spotted the shoes beneath the vehicle several cars down from the dead body of his soldier almost immediately right from where he was standing. She saw him react, his eyes widening, and then once again, searching the garage for other clues. It took several minutes before he spotted the clothing and he had to step out of his comfort zone to ease his way stealthily to get to them. He crouched low, utilizing the vehicles as cover to make his way over to the skirt and blouse to examine them.
Callendine could see that it was a woman who had killed Tread-way. He kept shaking his head as if that didn’t sit right with him—as if he couldn’t believe it. He still couldn’t figure out how the man had died. Worse, not one of his soldiers had responded when he had tried to contact them, which meant they were probably dead as well. Amaryllis didn’t feel in the least sorry for him. He had been the one to plan and carry out the horrendous attack on innocent people for whatever his reasons, on his own country’s soil.
She slipped from one car to the next, creeping closer to him. She knew she had to deliver the toxins into his system before he could pull the trigger and put a bullet in her. She would need a distraction. One small little break. She had to get close and never let him see her. She’d practiced for just such an event as this one. Weeks. Months. Years. It was all about being that close and never letting him see or feel her until it was too late. Whitney had given her the most venomous poison possible and made certain it was extremely fast-acting.
Callendine made the mistake of moving close to his soldier again, once more bending down to try to examine him, looking to see what had killed him. Needing to understand so he wasn’t caught in the same trap. Once he stood up again and began to search the garage, she knew she had him. She simply slid beneath the SUV and slithered like a snake over Treadway’s body, blending with it so that if Callendine happened to glance down quickly, he would only see Treadway, the body he expected to see.
A car backfired and Amaryllis injected the poison into Callendine’s ankle, immediately sliding back beneath the SUV and out the other side. Callendine was distracted momentarily by the loud bang, so that the sting barely registered. Then the pain began to overtake him fast. He started to reach down toward his leg but then looked carefully around again before crouching low to rub at his ankle.
Weirdly, his hand missed his ankle as if his coordination was off. He stared at his hand in fascination. His fingers had multiplied. The gun slipped from his palm to drop to the ground beside Treadway’s body. He watched it fall, but there seemed to be two guns clattering to the floor of the garage, not one, and both were so blurred he could barely make them out. His ankle burned and hurt with a fiery pain. He’d never felt anything like it.