Flame opened her eyes to stare up at her, wondering why she was all grown up instead of Lily the child. "I wanted to die. I wanted to get away from him that much."
Lily drew in her breath. Her gaze met Flame's. "I knew you wanted to die, but I couldn't let you. You were my family. I loved you, Flame. I know you felt it was a betrayal to tell him, but I had to save your life."
Flame closed her eyes. "I can't remember those days. They're too painful and I've wiped them from my memory."
"No, Flame. You didn't. He did. He didn't want us to be close. He didn't want us to have memories of one another. That's why it hurts to look at our pasts or try to remember one another. It's why we don't. He even took that away from us." There was a sob in Lily's voice. "I didn't realize until I tried to remember why you never liked me. I knew there was something between us, but I couldn't remember. It hurt to remember."
"I'm not going back." Flame sounded tired even to her own ears. Maybe she really was dreaming, otherwise she'd be telling Lily what she really thought of her. "How could you side with him when you knew what he was doing to us? Did you tell him I was here?"
"He's dead, Flame," Lily assured in her most soothing voice. "You're perfectly safe now."
Flame turned her head away from Lily to find Raoul. He was her only hope, even if she was caught in a dream. "He's not dead," she whispered.
Raoul caught her hand and held it to him. "I know, baby. I know. Everything's in place. He can't get to you."
"You can't possibly think Peter Whitney is alive, Gator," Lily gasped. She threw out her hand to Ryland, who immediately took it. "He's dead. I felt him die. I saw it, even though I wasn't there. He disappeared, no one has found a trace of him."
"I don't think he is dead, Lily," Gator said. "I'm sorry, I would have told you differently, but something's not right. The men who attacked us are trained, just as we are. They're all enhanced both genetically as well as psychically. I think Whitney has a private army and we either got in his way when he was trying to reacquire Flame, or he was running a little field operation to see how his boys stacked up against us."
Pressing a hand protectively to her stomach, Lily felt behind her for a chair. "This can't be happening. I feel like he's taken everything from me. Everything."
She had to be dreaming, Flame decided. Lily wept so quietly, so hopelessly it nearly broke Flame's heart. And she didn't feel for Lily. She would never trust her again, never be her friend, never call her sister. But if she didn't stop crying, Flame was going to have to find a way to drag her butt out of bed and comfort her. "Men are so freakin' useless," she muttered.
"I'm pregnant, Ryland. It's too late to stop trying. I'm already pregnant. What if he is alive? This is a nightmare."
Ryland crouched beside his wife's chair. "Listen to me, honey. This doesn't change anything. We have a mission. We're going to find the other girls and protect them. We'll find them."
"But what if this is all about the next generation? What if . . ." She trailed off, weeping again, this time into her hands.
Flame felt the choking terror rise. Whitney was just monster enough to have created such an experiment. It would explain why she was so attracted to Raoul. Why he was in her thoughts every moment, why she dreamt about him at night. Why her body burned for his. She couldn't have children, since the treatments had left her sterile, but all the others would have to be protected.
"Raoul?" She slipped her hand under her pillow, needing to feel as if she could defend herself. Her fingers found the smooth edge of the hilt of her knife encased in a leather sheath. She looked at him and smiled, some of the tension leaving her body. "Thanks." She looked through the open doorway of her room and saw a man mopping the floor. He looked familiar. She was certain it was Ian, Raoul's friend, but why would he be a janitor in the hospital? She had to be dreaming.
Gator eased his body onto the bed, stretching out beside her, careful of her broken arm as he wrapped his arm around her waist. "You're welcome. I like you with knives."
"You're such a perv." She snuggled closer to him, already drifting, uncaring anymore if she was dreaming or if Lily was real. She only cared about the warmth of Raoul's arms.
The sound of whistling woke her. It was off-key and hurting her ears. She opened one eye cautiously. Raoul was asleep beside her; although how he could sleep through the noise she didn't know. It was morning and there was no Lily or Ryland in the room.
"Wyatt, what are you doing now?" Raoul asked, his voice grumpy. "You're hurting my ears."
"I was warning you. We've got company coming. You don't want everyone seein' you lookin' like a jackass, do you?"
"I look like a jackass?" Raoul sat up slowly, careful not to jar Flame.
"You're besotted. Whipped. Had. You can't leave the woman alone even after she's had surgery."
"Who's coming?"
"Grand-mere." Wyatt straightened his scrubs. "She went shoppin' for Flame, got her all kinds of clothes. And Kadan went over the airboat, retrieved the duffel bag and put it in the cabin. Everything's locked down the way you asked. Are we movin' her tonight?"
"I am awake," Flame declared. "Someone could ask me. And I have to go to the bathroom before your grandmother comes in. Does someone have a toothbrush?"
"I'll help you," Gator said.
"I'm her nurse," Wyatt said. "There's no need for you to be doin' my job."
"Go away, Wyatt," Flame said. "I have to ask your brother something and I may have to shove a knife through his heart when he answers me. I don't want any witnesses."
"You take all the fun out of my job," Wyatt said and winked at his brother as he went out.
Flame sat up slowly, feeling a little dizzy. "They're giving me pain medicine, aren't they? You have to stop them. I have to be able to function."
Gator slipped his arm around her. "Just sit for a minute on the side of the bed."
"Was Lily here last night? Lily Whitney?" She turned her head and looked him directly in the eyes.
Gator glanced down at her hand, making certain she didn't have the knife and wasn't about to pull it out from under the pillow. "I couldn't keep her away. She wanted to see you and Ryland brought her. I told her how you felt, but she came anyway."
"Was it necessary to tell her I was here in the first place? Couldn't you have waited?"
"Ryland is my commanding officer as well as my friend. I was using Lily's private equipment and he asked Kadan what the hell was going on. I wasn't going to put Kadan in the position of having to lie for me. We told the truth, but we took precautions. You were never, at any time alone. I was in the operating and the recovery rooms. The others guarded the doors. Once you were moved to a private room, we took over all care. And you aren't in their computers."
"She took my blood."
"She's worried the cancer has returned." He hesitated. "So am I, Flame."
"You should have just asked me. Of course it came back. It was meant to come back, remember?" She slid off the bed, trying to wrap the flimsy hospital gown closer around her. "Don't look. I may be weak, but I can still kick your ass. This is humiliating and I'm already irritated with you. She had no right to come into my room when I was so out of it."
He was still reeling from her casual affirmative answer to the cancer question as he watched her walk to the bathroom. "Flame." He couldn't quite catch his breath.
She paused by the door. "I don't want to talk about anything important here."
"We are going to talk about this."
"I love it when you get all alpha male on me, Raoul." She flashed a smile at him. "A lesser woman might be intimidated." She disappeared into the small room, closing the door behind her. "Did you beat that nasty little weasel James Parsons into a bloody pulp for me?"
"Not yet, but he's on the list. What the hell was going on in that car?" Gator looked down at his hands. He wanted to smash something. James Parsons would do.
"I think he was trying to drug me, as if I wasn't already a mess, but it's all a littl
e hazy."
"You smashed his head in with a glass." Gator leapt off the bed as his grandmother entered the room.
"Did I? Good." Flame's voice purred with satisfaction. "He's such a slimy little bastard." She opened the door and came waltzing out, at least until she caught sight of Nonny. Color washed immediately through her face. "Nonny. I didn't know you were here." She sent Gator an I'm-going-to-strangle-you-with-my-bare-hands look before flashing a tentative smile. "Sorry about the language."
"No bother. I raised me four boys and I've heard it all. Which slimy bastard were you talking about?"
CHAPTER 14
Someone had tried to fix up the cabin to make it less of a hunting cabin and more of a home. Flame suspected Nonny had paid a visit while they were gone. A homemade quilt, the craftsmanship beautiful, covered the bed and there was a tablecloth on the small makeshift table.
"Are you tired? Do you need to get into bed?" Gator asked.
"It's a broken arm. I've spent more time in bed than I ever have." She wandered over to the window and looked out. "I love this place. The bayou is so peaceful. I think I love the nights like this the best."
"We're alone," Gator announced.
She glanced at him over her shoulder. "I'm very much aware of that. You're still angry with me."
"Damn right I'm angry. You took off." He threw his gloves and everything else in his hands on the table and crossed the room to stand behind her. "You know how casual you sounded when you told me you knew you were sick again?"
Flame turned to face him, resting her back against the wall. "There was no question that the cancer would come back. Dr. Whitney made certain of that."
His gaze darkened. "You knew that?"
"Not at first, not until I realized he'd coordinated my escape." She shrugged. "Oh, it wasn't all that easy. I was kept in a laboratory in Colorado for years. I escaped when I was nineteen. He made certain my escape was difficult so he could record it and see what I could and couldn't do. He soundproofed everything so I couldn't use sound against him. He made it hard enough, but after I managed to get out, it occurred to me that he wanted me to escape. How else could he test me in the world? In the field? Unlike his beloved Lily, I wasn't cooperative. He didn't give me any run of the mill cancer; he made up his own. He needed to find a way to ensure I would have to come back to him. It didn't occur to him I'd be willing to die."
There was absolute resolution in her voice. Gator felt something hard grab his heart and squeeze until he thought his chest might implode. "That's not an option." He forced the words out when his lungs burned for air.
"It's the only option. I'm not ever going back where he can get his hands on me. He's evil. I don't care how much he spouts that his work is invaluable to science and will save thousands, maybe millions of lives. He's evil."
"Flame . . ."
"Don't." She cut him off, her features set. "I weighed my options before I ever escaped. I knew he wanted something from me and if I left, maybe I'd be giving it to him. He didn't think I'd be smart enough to figure it all out. He placed a microchip in my body to track me. It was here." She pushed the low-riding jeans his grandmother had bought for her down farther so he could see the arc of flames along her hipbone. The tattoo covered an ugly scar.
He heard a hoarse shout of protest echoing through his mind and for a moment was afraid he'd yelled out loud. He made himself breathe. "You cut the chip out of your body yourself."
"Damn right I did."
He wanted to hit something. Smash it. Drive his fists into something solid until he felt the physical pain. Maybe that would take away the churning rage and the terror of losing her.
"Raoul." She leaned close to him, laid her hand gently, almost tenderly on his chest, right over his heart. Her voice was soft, so low he barely caught the words. "The cabin is shaking. You have to calm down."
He let his breath out, his hand coming up to cover hers, pressing her palm closer to him. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize I was losing control. You were just going to walk away, walk down that road and head out of town, weren't you? Knowing you could die from an infection or from cancer. You were going to let it happen."
"I was protecting you. Both of us, really, but you're in an impossible position. You're so . . ." She searched for the right word. "Gallant. I can't let you lose everything you have in the world when there's no saving me. It's not logical."
"Sometimes I want to shake you until your teeth rattle."
"Well try to control the impulse." Flame moved around him to pace the length of the cabin restlessly. She knew the painkillers were making her anxious, but she couldn't help it. "There are so many things I need to do. Burrell's killers. Keep away from Whitney. Find Joy or at least find out what happened to her."
"We've been looking for Joy, but we haven't turned up any information that will help us yet." He jammed his hands into his pockets as if to keep from grabbing ahold of her. "We're not finished talking about this."
"Well talk all you want. I'm finished. I'm really, really angry that you let that woman into my room when I was . . ." She broke off.
"Vulnerable? You were vulnerable. Say it. It happens to all of us at one time or another. I'm not going to let you die because you're too damned stubborn to see the truth when it's staring you in the eye." He had to work to keep his breathing slow and even. She could make him angrier than any other person on the face of the earth.
"What truth? Yours? You didn't even know Whitney was alive. You're too trusting, Raoul, and it's going to get you killed."
"Maybe, cher, but lack of trust will definitely get you killed."
"I'm going to get ready for bed after all. It's warm in here." It was warm just being in the same room with him. And for some reason, when he was angry, she found herself getting damp with need. Even her breasts ached. Maybe she was the pervert.
Gator snatched up a bottle of beer and uncapped it, using the edge of the table. He sank into the one good armchair and took a long swig of the cold liquid, hoping it would cool his temper. She damn well wasn't going to die on him. And he couldn't get the vision of her scar beneath the tattoo out of his mind. He wanted to kiss it better. He just plain wanted. He pressed the beer bottle to his brow. It was going to be a long night.
"Don't you want to know why I bashed James Parsons in the head with his little crystal tumbler? The bastard."
He turned his head and wished he hadn't. She had her back turned to him and was in a man's plaid shirt. He was certain this time it was his shirt. His grandmother's version of nightwear? She was awkwardly shimmying out of her jeans, shoving them down with one hand and kicking at them to get the material away from her.
"Are you just going to sit there or are you going to help me?" She glared at him.
"Oh, cher. I'm goin' to sit here. I'm not getting near you when you're in such a mean mood." He leaned back in the chair and stretched his legs out in front of him. "I rather like the show."
"You would." She gave a final kick to her jeans and they went flying off.
"So tell me about Parsons. I didn't believe his story, but I didn't have time to beat the truth out of him."
She shook her head. "You aren't the type of man to beat the truth out of anyone. You're too nice."
He took another pull of the beer and looked at her over the bottle. "Don' you go thinkin' I'm all that nice, cher. If that man did what I think he did, he is accidentally goin' to die. He ripped your shirt, didn't he?"
"Yes."
Something deep inside him he kept hidden from the rest of the world began to unravel. He felt rage. Cold. Absolute cold rage. He set the beer bottle down carefully on the floor and looked at his hands.
"Raoul."
He heard her say his name softly, from a great distance. He curled his fingers into two tight fists. The man had been so close and on some level, Gator had known. Flame would never have sat in a car with her breasts bared to the world no matter how much blood she'd lost. If some other man had ripped her shirt in the sw
amp, she would have covered up before getting into the car. She had presence of mind to bash Parsons, she sure as hell would have covered up. He was going to kill the man with his bare hands.
"Raoul." This time her voice was sharp. "You're doing it again. The cabin is old. Do you want it to come crashing down? He's a skanky little punk."
"He's a dead man walking."
She sighed softly. "There's more. I saw scratch marks in the leather and there was an earring. The earring was very distinctive. Joy's mother sent away for the pair when she saw them in a magazine. They had silver footprints over gold. The footprints represented a poem Joy loved about Christ carrying her in times of need." She frowned, trying to remember more details. "It was strange. I felt dizzy and everything seemed so dreamlike." She wiped at her face. "I still can't remember very much."
"You've lost a lot of blood and they have you on heavy painkillers." His voice had a hard edge to it. He swallowed his anger and picked up the beer bottle, trying to distract himself from the memory of her covered in blood, in mud, bruised, battered, and her rescuer ripping her shirt open. He couldn't drink enough to erase that.
"I'm all right now. You got there in time. My arm's fine."
Gator took another swallow then pointed toward the table because he couldn't think about it now. He had to change the direction of the conversation and his thoughts or he would be in jail by morning. "Take a look at those pictures. Kadan pulled those out and said to have you take a look at them. He thought you might see something the rest of us don't."
"Pictures?"
"On the table by my gloves."
Flame leaned over the small makeshift table to study the pictures strewn over the tablecloth where they'd fallen out of a manila envelope. The shirttails rode up to reveal the underside of her bottom, her cheeks firm and smooth and curving deliciously. Gator repositioned his legs in an attempt to ease the growing ache in his groin. He wasn't about to call her attention to the fact that she was showing bare skin and giving him one hell of a hard-on.
"Joy's mother said she was a wonderful photographer and she's right. These must be the pictures Joy took of the bayou and wildlife. Have you looked at them? They're quite good. Joy took these photographs right before she disappeared."
Night Game Page 24