Ghostly Game (GhostWalkers #19) Read Online Christine Feehan

Categories Genre: Contemporary, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: GhostWalkers Series by Christine Feehan
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Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 133531 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 534(@250wpm)___ 445(@300wpm)
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The cameras up inside? Mack asked. I want to see and hear the reaction when they realize the women are gone.

In place. Javier installed them. Take a look at your screens, Mack. You can see the three of them walking in like they own the place, Gideon said.

Rory pulled out her phone and Gideon took it from her to AirDrop the program onto it so she could see what the other team members could. Westlake, Michigan and Carver strode straight to the lounge as if expecting to find the women there. They halted abruptly when they found it empty.

“Where’s Morris?” Westlake demanded, glaring at Michigan.

“He couldn’t leave. Deana’s sick. You know she has MS. Nikki’s with them. I told her to stay there until I get back.”

“Nikki could have stayed alone with Deana,” Westlake snapped. “She doesn’t need Bill there.” He stabbed at his phone ferociously, punching in numbers. Evidently, no one answered, which only added to his ire. He jammed the phone into his pocket. “Let’s visit Lydia and her little brat. One of them has that notebook. We’ll get it one way or another. We should have grabbed her first.”

Rory circled Gideon’s thigh with her arm. Thank you for making sure my friends are safe, Gideon. That man is a monster.

Gideon was well aware Westlake was evil. He’d been the one to carry Rory out of the warehouse to the car and pray to the universe that she stayed alive long enough to get her back to the house, where Paul could do surgery on her. If Paul hadn’t been in the car, Gideon doubted if Rory would have lived.

He would hurt Ellen to get Lydia to tell him what he wanted to know, but she doesn’t know anything. In the end, he would have killed them both.

Gideon rested his hand on top of her head, fingers automatically burrowing in the thick mass of hair. He’d indulged himself, washing and conditioning her hair the moment Paul had given him the go-ahead. Her dark cherry–colored hair fascinated him, and he knew she didn’t like the feel of it being dirty. He didn’t like the blood and dirt in it, reminding him he’d come so close to losing her.

“He won’t have the chance to get them,” Gideon said, indicating the screen on her phone.

They watched as the detectives went to Cindy’s door and knocked. No one answered. They called Lydia first, then Cindy. Neither woman answered. Janice’s and Pam’s phones went to voice mail. For the first time, Westlake looked uneasy.

“I don’t like this. Michigan, are you sure about Morris? He hasn’t been talking to anyone, has he? He was acting strange,” Westlake said.

Michigan hesitated. “He didn’t like the way you treated Chappel. He objected several times. He told you, John. You know how he is.”

“Would he sell us out?”

Wilson should send out the call to forensics to go to the warehouse, Gideon suggested to Mack.

Apparently, Wilson had the same idea, but he went a step further. He sent a forensic team to the warehouse but announced that Laurel Chappel had been found alive a couple of days earlier and was being held safe at an undisclosed location.

Westlake and the other two detectives froze as they received the news. Westlake burst into swearing. The three men hurried through the hall toward the front entrance.

“Morris had to have called in Chappel’s location,” he snapped as he yanked open the door leading outside. “No one could have found her. I’m going to kill him myself. But first I’ll do his wife right in front of him.”

“At least find out if he betrayed us first,” Michigan cautioned. “You snapped when Chappel didn’t answer and nearly beat her to death, but the rest of us thought she couldn’t breathe. If you’d just given her air, we might have gotten answers.”

Westlake stopped abruptly, swinging around to confront Michigan. “Maybe it was you, Michigan. As I recall, you didn’t think it was a good idea to take her in the first place.”

“I think maybe you’re putting too much cocaine up your nose,” Michigan fired back.

“We have to get out of here,” Carver said. “Not fight amongst ourselves. Let’s go. We can meet up somewhere else and discuss what to do.”

Westlake spat on the ground in front of Michigan’s shoes and burst into an unexpected sprint toward his vehicle. The others looked up to see the police emerging from every direction.

Wilson and Abbott stepped onto the asphalt from either side of the building. A ring of uniformed officers surrounded the lot. Larrsen walked straight toward Westlake.

Carver and Michigan both halted instantly. Westlake continued forward in a full run, his revolver out. Rhianna had finished disabling the vehicles and was sauntering out of the lot, looking as if she were a resident leaving the area, exiting via the sidewalk. At the last moment, Westlake switched directions, putting the front columns between him and the police. As he did, he fired his weapon and shot Rhianna in the calf to bring her down, clearly wanting a hostage.



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