"I know. I know. I'm sorry." But she couldn't stop. Her world was gone and her hormones were running wild and there was nowhere to go to escape him.
"It's going to be all right. Everything will be fine. You're overtired and you need to sleep." His fingers began a slow massage of her neck, then slowly crept into her hair to massage her scalp, tunneling deep, moving with sure, circular strokes.
"I don't want to go in the house, Jack. I can't go into that room." How could she make him understand? At least outside, the wind and forest helped to dissipate his scent--give her a breathing space from her need of him.
Jack had never had a weeping woman in his arms before. He stood quietly, just holding her while her body shook with the force of her sobs. His chin nuzzled the top of her head. Soft strands of her hair caught in the shadow along his chin. He didn't try to stop the flood of tears--she had enough to cry about--he simply reached down, positioning his arm beneath her knees, and lifted her, cradling her against him.
"All right. We'll stay out here. Shh, Briony. You're going to make yourself ill." She was light, easy enough to lift, and Jack simply jumped with her, landing back on his porch, Briony cradled in his arms. He settled on the front porch rocker, the one he'd built with his own two hands. They fit comfortably, and he rocked gently, rubbing her hair with his chin, hands gently massaging her neck.
He should have felt like a damn fool, but he didn't. She felt right in his arms. He sat in the night, rocking on his porch, watching the trees swaying and listening to the night sounds of the forest. She wept silently, her tears soaking his shirt as she slowly struggled to regain control.
"It's strange with you," he said aloud. "When I'm with you, I feel like an ordinary man. Everything else falls away, and I can see how beautiful things around me really are. I've sat on this porch hundreds of times, and the night has never looked like this. I've stared into the forest, and I saw a million places to hide, to set up an ambush, to find food. I didn't see the way the leaves look silver in the moonlight, or the way the trees seem to dance and lift up their branches to the stars. Why do you suppose that is?"
Briony swallowed hard and turned her tear-wet face up to him, her dark, liquid gaze searching his face.
Jack wiped the tears away with his fingertips, hands gentle, almost reverent. "It's the truth, Briony. I see the world differently when you're around me."
"Don't, Jack. I'm very susceptible to you, and right now I'm pregnant so it's probably worse. Don't say things like that to me." Briony tried to look away from him, but he held her chin.
"I want you here," he admitted gruffly.
"But you said..."
"I know what I said. That doesn't matter now. We'll have plenty of time to sort it all out. I can feel your headache, and you aren't making it any better by crying. Just listen to the night and relax, go to sleep. One of the reasons we chose to build up here is the quiet, the peace."
Briony closed her eyes and fit her body more comfortably into his. As a rule she didn't cry in front of anyone, and she was embarrassed that she was still sniffing. He held her like she mattered to him, and she didn't know if that made it better or worse.
"Just over there, through those trees and down a little slope, is my shop. I thought I'd add onto it and give you a place to make your stained glass."
"I didn't bring my sketchbook."
"I'll get you a new one. You'll have plenty of time to draw."
Briony's lashes lifted. He was looking down at her, and there was something in his eyes, something close to admiration, when she didn't feel she was at all acting in an admirable way. Her heart responded in spite of her determination to remain at an emotional distance from him. She lifted her hand to his face, traced the hard lines with her fingertips. "I missed your face, Jack."
He turned his head enough to brush kisses over her hand. "I'm sorry for the things I said to you that night. I know I hurt you."
"You did hurt me. I knew you had to go, but you didn't have to do it that way. Why did you?" The pads of her fingers smoothed over his lips.
"I have some things to sort out, Briony, but it isn't about you--or the baby. It's about me and my character and who and what I am. Never you." He caught her hand and held it against his throat.
"I swear I was on birth control pills, Jack. I didn't get pregnant on purpose. I wouldn't do that to a man. And I'm capable of raising a child on my own. You won't have to worry about me asking for money or anything. I need survival skills..."
"Briony, stop," Jack ordered. His hand curved around her neck, fingers working to massage the tension out of her. "It's my child too. I want you here. I want the baby here. I'll teach you the things you need, and after the baby is born, we'll both protect him together."
Her heart jumped, but she wasn't ready to hope again. "Why do you think it's a boy?"
"Because my heart couldn't take a girl. Can you imagine some boy trying to date my daughter? I'd be sharpening my knives when he came calling."
Briony's soft laughter was muffled against his chest, but the sound played through his body with the strength of a tidal wave. He'd expected the rising, urgent need, but not the contentment, the joy. He didn't know joy, didn't understand it, was even wary of the emotion. It crept over him, stealing into his heart whether he wanted it or not--brought by a woman, by the sound of her laughter.
"You're so silly, Jack."
"I've never been called that before. I know it was difficult for you to come here." He knew that was a mild way of putting it, but Briony always did what she thought was right--no matter the cost to her--and going to Jack had come with a high price tag.
The smile faded from her face. "I want this baby. I know we weren't looking for it to happen, but the minute the doctor told me I was pregnant, I was happy. I'm really serious about being able to do it on my own."
"I know you are. I'm really serious about being a part of your lives."
Her smile lit her eyes. "Boy or girl, a child is such a miracle, don't you think?"
She was the miracle. "Yes, it is," he replied quietly. "Go to sleep, baby. I can feel how tired you are." He stroked caresses through her hair. She was bone weary--more, she hadn't felt safe in a long time. He wanted her to feel safe in his home--in his arms.
He rocked her gently, letting the night work its magic. So many times Ken and he had come home weary and wounded and sat on the porch listening to the night. Insects hummed, owls fluttered wings, bats dipped and whirled, and deer moved with grace through the surrounding forest, comforting them. His heat seeped into the cold of her body, warming her as her lashes drifted down and her body relaxed fully into his. Her breathing became soft and even, as she snuggled like a broken child in his arms, sheltered close to his heart.
Boy or girl, a child is such a miracle, don't you think? Jack thought about her innocent statement for a long time. He sat in the dark with the moonlight spilling into the trees, listening to the sound of water running over the rocks and the night insects calling to one another while he rocked her to sleep. A child is such a miracle, don't you think? Briony boiled everything down to such simplicity. Was a child a miracle to him or not? Did he want the child? Or only Briony? Was their room in his life for a baby? How did he feel?
There was no sound, but he was aware that he wasn't alone long before a shadow fell across him. He looked up to see his brother standing, hands on hips, bare feet, dressed only in drawstring flannels. Scars covered his face, ran across his shoulders and down his arms, over his chest, and disappeared into the low waistband. Even now, the skin was raw and red, shiny and raised, an ugly mottled remembrance of falling into the hands of a madman. For one moment Jack felt the stirring of anguish. He hadn't been there, hadn't been protecting his brother's back. Ken had been sent in his place. Jack should have been there, and he would carry that sin to his grave.
He looked up, voice casual. "Can't sleep?"
"Nope." Ken sat on the edge of the railing, swinging one foot. He looked easygoing and relaxed, bu
t Jack knew him too well. "She all right?" Ken indicated Briony with his chin. His eyes glittered like silver in the moonlight, a warning of impending battle.
"She cried herself to sleep. She's had a rough time," Jack said.
"We've got to talk about this, Jack."
Jack closed his eyes, rested his head against Briony, and inhaled her scent. It wrapped him up like a heady dream. "I know. I know we do. I should have told you when I came back from Kinshasa, but there didn't seem much point. I walked away from her. I did the right thing; I just walked out and left her to have a life with a decent man. Damn it, Ken." His eyes snapped open to glare at his twin. "I walked. It was the hardest thing I ever did in my life."
Ken nodded. "I've felt it, ever since you came back. Our connection is too strong for me not to feel how difficult it was. But this is dangerous." He passed a hand over his face. "I came out here to tell you you've got to give her up, that you can't risk it--but seeing you with her--feeling what you're feeling..." He shook his head. "I don't know how you could."
"For the first time in a long time, I'm afraid, Ken. I always figured if I went psycho, eventually they'd send someone better than me and I'd get whacked. I knew I'd never turn on you--but now..." He stroked his hand down Briony's hair. "I couldn't stand it if she looked at me the way Mom looked at him." He shook his head slowly. "I've already got the beginnings of his ways. I'm too obsessive over her. I can't think about anything or anyone else. I don't want anyone close to her."
"Does that include me?"
"I was afraid it might, but you're close to her now and I don't want to shoot you, so maybe not."
A faint smile crept into Ken's eyes. "That's a relief."
"I can't let her go. I just can't, Ken. It's like looking through different eyes when I'm with her. I feel hope again." He shook his head again, feeling a fool. "When I came back this time, I wanted it all to end. After having her--and walking away--I just wanted it all to be over."
Ken scowled. "I knew you felt that way. What are we going to do?"
"You're going to give me your word of honor..."
Ken stood up, shaking his head, hand raised to stop his brother. "Don't. Don't ask me to do that. It's not an option."
"It's the only option we have. I'm telling you I can't let go of her. I swear, Ken, I don't know what I'd do if she tried to leave me."
"You'd harm her?" Ken's voice went quiet, his gray eyes once again catching the silvery light of the moon.
"No! Never! Never that. I'd destroy myself before I'd ever do anything to hurt her." Jack caught Briony closer, held her protectively. "I'm totally fucked, Ken. You have to give me your word on this."
"The baby?" Ken persisted. "How do you feel about the baby?"
Jack sighed. "How would I know what I feel? I don't recognize feelings anymore. You're beginning to sound like those shrinks they always want to send us to." He'd been sitting in the dark contemplating that very question and still had no real answer. Did he want the baby because it was a tie to Briony or because it was his child?
"When you told me, I felt that same flash of joy in you."
"I'm happy she's pregnant. She's here. I don't know what the hell I'll do with a baby, but I'll figure it out. I was sitting here thinking I might start a crib or one of those little things they sleep in with rockers on it."
A small smile escaped Ken. "A cradle, you cretin. And just to give you an added glow, you might also consider that our dear old dad gave us one more legacy aside from his monster genes."
"And that would be?"
"Twins. He was a twin. His father was a twin. His father before him was a twin. See any pattern here?"
Jack groaned. "Briony will be especially pleased with me for that one." He stared into the woods, at the trees with their dark trunks and dazzling leaves, one hand sliding down to cover her rounded tummy. "He drank, you know. Do you remember that? He was always drinking. I tried to remember what he was like without alcohol." He looked at his brother. "Promise me, Ken."
"It's a hell of a thing for you to ask me."
"I have to ask."
Ken swore and turned away from him. "Damn that man to hell for what he did to us. I have to think about it. I don't know if I could do it. I'm not giving my word unless I know I'll keep it."
"I've lived my entire life trying to do the right thing, Ken. I'm not ending it by hurting the people I care about." A faint, humorless smile touched his mouth briefly. "There's so many of you--you and Briony."
"And the men. You've never left a man down, Jack. You don't give yourself enough credit because you're always watching yourself so closely, so certain you're going to be like him. He was vicious when he drank. It was like poison to him."
Jack raised his head, forcing his twin to look into his eyes. "You know we're different. We've always been different. I refuse to pretend otherwise. If I know what I am--what I'm capable of doing--I have a chance to stop myself. If I can't, then you have no choice."
"I'm not doing this with you. We both agreed there would be no woman, not one we cared about, not one who mattered."
"She saved my life. She's a GhostWalker, same as we are. Whitney's after her for the baby."
Ken swung around. "What the hell are you talking about? Peter Whitney is dead. He was murdered. How could he have anything to do with this?"
"Apparently he has a lot to do with it. Aside from enhancing us, he programmed us to respond sexually to one of the enhanced females--at least that's what I'm told. And if it's true, it's potent. I'm a walking hard-on around her."
"Great. Like we didn't have enough problems." Ken sighed. "Are you certain about all of this, Jack?"
"Just as certain as I was that someone set us up in the Congo. That someone had to be Whitney. He has the money, the resources, and the clearance--and someone very high up is helping him. They'll be coming after Briony and the baby."
"They won't get her, Jack, but we'd better be prepared. How is she in a fight?"
"She needs an anchor, but she's tough as nails if she needs to be. She'll stand."
"So there's a woman out there who is going to turn me into a raging testosterone bull."
"Yeah, that's about it," Jack said.
Ken whistled softly. "Well, there are always compensations in life."
"Yeah? Well, don't be too sure about that. The way I understand it, Whitney's not having much luck getting us lab rats together so he's trying to round up the women and establish some kind of baby factory with a few of his enhanced soldiers volunteering for donor duty."
"Okay, that's just sick." Ken frowned. "So this woman--the one I'd react to--might be locked up in Whitney's basement as a broodmare?"
"Makes you want to meet the son of a bitch on a dark night with no one around, doesn't it?"
Ken crossed to his brother's side and bent close to Briony's neck, inhaling deeply. He was acutely aware of the rising tension and Jack's sudden stillness. He straightened slowly, winked at his brother, and backed up. "Doesn't do a thing for me."
"Well, next time you're going to get personal, you might warn me."
"Get used to it. If you're keeping her, then she's my sister and that child is my niece or nephew. I'm a hands-on kind of man."
"You just like to piss me off," Jack said.
"Well, there's that. On the other hand, we'll find out really fast just how much of a bastard you're going to be to live with--with your woman around. You get out of line, and I'll have to take you out behind the barn."
"We don't have a barn."
"I told you we needed a barn, damn it," Ken said. "You had to have a shop. It doesn't sound the same saying I'm taking you out behind the shop." Ken dropped his hand on his brother's shoulder, a silent gesture of camaraderie--of solidarity. "It's getting a little cold out here for me. I'm for bed."
Jack watched his brother walk into the house. Ken's shoulders were straight, his gait even and fluid, but his heart was heavy, aching with the weight of dread--of the nightmare both had always fea
red. The savage wounds on Ken's body had healed, but the scars were everywhere, inside and out. Jack didn't like contributing to his brother's burden, but there was no help for it.
Briony stirred in his arms, shivered, and snuggled closer, her body squirming against his groin. The feeling was different than any he'd experienced. The painful, aching tightness was there, a swift response he was becoming used to, but there was more, a rush of emotion threatening to choke him. He should have felt reluctance--he did feel it, but the wakening sensations, affection, stirrings of love mixed with passion and his heightened senses were all unexpected.
He stood up, cradling her slight weight against his chest. She lifted her head, blinked, and looked around her. "I was dreaming."
"What were you dreaming?"
"That there were two of you."
He took her into the house, striding down the hall toward his room. "That must have been frightening. Two men to order you around."
"Not really." She laid her head back down on his shoulder. "I'm used to four brothers, all with loud opinions."
She sounded amused and drowsy all at once. It wasn't just her scent, he decided, as he laid her on the bed and stretched out beside her. She trusted him on some instinctive level. No one trusted him--not even his twin brother, not even Ken. He turned on his side to wrap his arm around her, pressing his body close to hers.
"Don't try anything," she warned. "I'd have to smack you around."
"I was just going to tell you the same thing," Jack said.
"Really?" She turned her head to look at him, amusement creeping into her dark eyes. "What are you doing in here?"
"Keeping you from sleepwalking. It's the only way I'm going to get any sleep."
"I don't sleepwalk."
"It's safer, trust me, baby."
It wasn't, but she wasn't going to get into the reasons why. She turned completely over to study his face. "What if they find us? They could hurt your brother, Jack. I didn't think about that. I was so busy protecting my brothers, I didn't think about yours, and I should have. I'm sorry."
"You had no way of knowing Ken and I shared a house."
"Yes, I did." Her gaze slid from his, flicked up to the ceiling. "You were worried about him when you were in Kinshasa. The rebels had tortured him, worse than what they did to you, and you were upset that you didn't get to him fast enough. I caught glimpses of your home and knew he lived close--or with you. I just should have thought about how you'd feel if something happened to him."
Conspiracy Game Page 21