by Deadly Game
“What do you want me to say? Yes, you’re right?” She should have kept her mouth shut. Anyone would have heard the stress, the anger, the repressed fear and hurt. Her life had been hell since Whitney had decided to pair the genetically altered women with soldiers. He didn’t care if the women wanted the men; in fact he seemed to delight in seeing how far the men were willing to go to get the cooperation of the women. Everything was meticulously detailed and reported. And men like Brett didn’t like failure.
“He tried to force cooperation from the women?”
She suppressed a small hysterical laugh. That was a gentle way of saying it. “Whitney wouldn’t put it that way. He creates a situation and sits back and observes. He isn’t messy enough to force us. He leaves that to the men.” She pressed her lips together and turned away from him. How could she be giving up information? Personal, vital, information. She had to be drugged.
“Whitney is a first-class bastard.” Ken moved, a rippling of muscle, a gliding of silent steps across the room until he was once more beside her and she could breathe him into her lungs. His palm was cool on her forehead as he brushed back strands of her hair. “He faked his own death and has gone underground. Someone high up is helping him. After Jack met Briony—”
“How? This all seems too big of a coincidence for me to swallow. You just happened to be the shooter when we were supposed to protect the senator. You miss when you’ve probably never missed in your life.”
“I didn’t miss.”
“You missed.”
A ghost of a smile pulled at his mouth. His even white teeth flashed. The effect was breathtaking. Her stomach somersaulted. Even her broken fingers tingled—fingers he had crushed. She remembered the swift attack, so fast he seemed a blur of movement. Even as she’d tried to fulfill her promises to the other women, she had admired his efficiency.
“Tell me,” she urged.
“It started with Senator Freeman. He was flying over the Congo, over rebel territory, and his plane went down. Mysteriously, General Ekabela, who was renowned for torturing prisoners, didn’t touch the senator, the pilot, or anyone traveling on that plane. At the very least, the pilot should have been killed.” He waited a moment, letting the implications of that sink in. “Jack was supposed to lead a rescue mission and pull the senator out. The orders came down, but Jack was still in Colombia. He’d run into a snag there, so I took his place.”
“You led a team into rebel territory to get the senator and his people out, but things didn’t go well.” Her gaze drifted over the terrible scars.
“They were waiting for us. We were ambushed and I was cut off from my unit. They were definitely after me, singling me out and sending in so many soldiers I didn’t have a chance. My men got the prisoners out and I was captured.”
Again, she was struck by the complete lack of inflection in his voice. He showed no emotion, when she felt the emotion like a raging volcano churning beneath the tranquil surface. She couldn’t imagine what the pain had been like—or the fear.
“How long did he have you?”
“An eternity. I knew Jack would come for me. Later I found out three rescue attempts had been made, but the rebels moved me constantly from camp to camp. By the time Jack found me, I was in pretty bad shape. I don’t remember anything but seeing his face. There wasn’t a whole lot of me left.”
“Ekabela had you cut like that?”
“Sliced into little pieces and then he skinned my back. Peeled it right off, like those deer on the senator’s porch.”
“So you had every reason to want Senator Freeman dead.” She made the statement quietly, watching his face for a reaction.
“I still want him dead.”
CHAPTER 3
“ Well at least you aren’t lying to me.” Mari held her breath, afraid to move. She’d gone from suspicion to belief and now she had to backtrack. Why would anyone be stupid enough to send in a skilled sniper to protect the senator when he clearly had a reason to see him dead? It made no sense.
Ken shrugged his broad shoulders. “Why would I deny it? I thought about killing him and saving everyone the trouble. So did Jack. But it smelled too much like a setup to me. If someone managed to kill him, we were right there, patsies to take the fall. Why would anyone order us to protect that man?”
“It doesn’t make sense,” she agreed, noncommittal.
“Out of curiosity, how can you be trained as a sniper when you’re not an anchor? Briony can’t use a gun against anyone without terrible repercussions.”
“I have an anchor. He draws the aftermath of violence away from me.”
“Your spotter.”
She nodded, watching his face. Shadows flickered in his silver eyes, turning them charcoal gray, giving them a smoldering appearance, as if any moment they might shoot flames. A muscle ticked in his jaw. He wasn’t quite made out of stone, as he would have her believe.
“Is your spotter paired with you?”
Was there an edge to his voice? Not really, but there was a heightened alertness in him. “No, he’s a friend. Was any of my unit killed back there?”
“I didn’t ask. I can have Jack find out for you. It was odd that the moment you were shot, everyone in your unit backed off the senator and fell back to try to protect you. Why would they do that?”
Sean had to have been injured. He had been closest to her and should have gotten to her position before the enemy. She sent up a silent prayer that he was still alive. He was a good soldier and the closest thing to a male friend she had. “I can’t answer that.”
“I seem to be giving you a lot of information, but you aren’t giving me anything in return.”
She was giving more than she should have, and both of them knew it. “If it was just my life I was risking, I might tell you what you want to know. I don’t have any loyalty to Whitney, or I wouldn’t have gone AWOL and tried to get to the senator.”
“You’re protecting the others, the women, aren’t you?” Now there was an edge to his voice, the ice cracking just a bit, enough to let out a wave of heat. “He’s going to hurt them if you don’t return.”
She said nothing, her heart pounding. Was she that transparent? Whitney would kill one of them. He’d started with seven, all raised together in that miserable compound, a life of duty and discipline where few things from the outside world were permitted and everything was recorded. They’d learned to move in the shadows and time the cameras to avoid detection. They’d learned to talk late at night, congregating in the bathroom with water running and signing their conversations, until Marigold had discovered she could build a telepathic bridge and they could all communicate that way. Those women were her family. She’d accepted her life and had pride in her abilities, until Whitney had changed everything.
Cami had protested and tried to escape. She’d been caught and Whitney had ordered a name drawn. One of the other women, Ivy, had been taken away, and a few minutes later they heard shots. There was blood on the walls, but no one had seen the body. They tried to tell themselves he hadn’t really killed her, but no one tried to escape after that.
“That’s why you tried to kill yourself. If you were dead, he wouldn’t have a reason to punish the others. And your unit knew he might kill one of the other women, a woman they might be paired with.” He swore softly under his breath. “Someone has to kill that son of a bitch and fast. Why would you think the senator would help you? He’s friends with Whitney. He’s been helping him.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You don’t know anything about the senator.”
Ken studied her face. He’d given her a lot of shocks very fast. She was doped up, her eyes unfocused, and the news of her sister had thrown her completely off guard. The revelations about Whitney garnered him a little trust. He knew his guesses about the threats to the other women had been right on. Whitney didn’t care about his human subjects—they were all expendable. He frowned. Maybe not the women. He could make more supersoldiers, but it would be difficult to find w
omen he had data on almost from birth. “Tell me about Senator Freeman.”
“He isn’t friends with Whitney. They don’t like each other. I think Whitney went to school with his father, but the senator’s father and Jacob Abrams are best friends. The two of them have tried to keep Whitney from doing so many experiments. They’ve talked to him countless times. I’ve heard them. They told him he had to stop, that he was jeopardizing everything.
“Senator Freeman violently objects to the things Whitney has done,” she continued. “In front of Whitney, he chastised his father for making them a part of the experiments. There’s no way the senator would betray our men and our country for Whitney. If his plane went down in the Congo, and there’s any kind of a tie between Ekabela and Whitney, then it was probably because Whitney wanted the senator dead. Jacob Abrams probably gave the order for you to go in and rescue the senator, not Whitney.”
You heard of Jacob Abrams? Ken reached out to his brother.
Big banker. Loaded. Maybe more than Whitney. Definitely a billionaire and has a lot to do with the world money market. Considered a genius. Don’t know much else about him, but I’ll run him by Lily. She’d know. Why?
Mari dropped his name, said he’s a friend of the senator’s and both aren’t too happy with Whitney, that he’s going to jeopardize everything. Have Lily check to see if the senator’s father, Whitney, and Abrams all attended a school at the same time.
“You’re talking to someone,” Mari said, pressing a hand to her temple. There was accusation in her voice and a reprimand in her eyes.
“My brother. Didn’t you always talk to your sister when you were together?”
Mari frowned, thinking about it. It had been so long ago. Telepathy had been strong between them. Of course they’d talked, hardly thinking about it, sharing every thought. Was she jealous of his brother and that strong bond? Or was she leery because he was the enemy? She should know, but if she were honest with herself, she had no idea what the answer was. She suspected jealousy.
Frustrated and embarrassed at her lack of discipline, she attempted to shift her leg. Gut-wrenching agony slid through her. She choked back a sound by shoving her fist in her mouth and biting down hard on her hand. She turned her face away from Ken, unable to stop the tears burning in her eyes.
His hand was there instantly to steady her. “Take a breath. You’re probably due for your meds again. You’ve been shot. We had a surgeon work on you after Nico, and being genetically altered, you’re bound to heal at an exceptionally fast rate, but you’re going to have to give yourself time.” Jack, we need meds in here now. She’s so pale she looks like she’s going to faint.
I’m coming. Hold your pants on.
“I don’t have time. Didn’t you hear me?” She couldn’t remember what she’d told him about the other women. If she didn’t get back, Whitney might harm them. She couldn’t take any chances; she had to go back. The pain was growing, moving through her system, making her unable to focus properly. There was something about the genetically enhanced system that allowed them to clear drugs much more quickly, and this time, it wasn’t a benefit.
“By now Whitney knows you were shot. He’ll try to go through the chain of command to find you. Whoever runs our teams is going to get slammed with questions and demands. Whitney won’t touch the other women because he can’t replace them. The men are expendable—not the women.”
“Whitney had my friend killed when Cami tried to escape.”
He was silent a moment. “Did you witness it; anyone see him?”
She shook her head. “Only the blood after.”
“You didn’t see a body and Whitney is a master of illusion. My guess is she was taken to another of his facilities.”
“But you don’t know that.”
“No, but we’ve had a lot of time to study Whitney.”
“Really?” Her voice dripped with sarcasm. “I lived my life in his compounds, with his experiments. He’s a megalomaniac. He believes rules don’t apply to him and that he’s smarter than everyone else. He believes everyone else is a sheep and that he can manipulate them with ease. And he can—and does all the time.”
“He’s one man, Mari,” he said gently.
“If men like the senator and Jacob Abrams can’t keep him under control, how can we? If he ordered a hit on either one of them, he has the means to get it done.”
“Maybe,” Ken conceded. What the hell is the holdup, Jack? She’s shaking and beginning to sweat.
Jack hurried into the room. “I’m sorry. Kadan called.”
“He could have waited.” Ken’s voice was gruff. He pushed the needle into the IV. “You’ll feel better in a few minutes,” he assured Mari, his thumb sliding over her skin as if it were an accident. “If not, we’ll bring in the doc.”
There was real concern in his voice, but his face was as expressionless as ever. She couldn’t help looking at his brother’s face. Jack had a couple of scars running down one side of his face, as if Ekabela had gotten his hands on him and just gotten started. They only served to add to his good looks. It gave him a rough edge that was intriguing. Ken’s face was a grid of scars, giving him the appearance of someone very frightening. A child might run from him.
She felt his eyes on her and turned her head to catch him staring at her with glittering eyes. She flashed a small smile. “You two look amazingly alike. He has that stubborn set to his jaw that you do.”
He dipped a cloth in cool water and sponged the beads of sweat from her forehead. “How long do you think we have before they find this place?”
“With Whitney’s connections? If you used a helicopter and any aid at all from military or black ops personnel, he’ll have the information in hours.”
“That’s what I thought too. We moved you once after the surgery, but we had to use a helicopter. We’re going to have to move you again.”
“Let them take me back.”
“No.” His voice was soft, a hiss of sound, low and mean, sending chills through her body. “We’ve already called the helicopter. When you wake up, we’ll be in another safe house.”
“And it will be a matter of hours before he has that information. Eventually he’ll catch up with us and someone will get killed.”
“We’ll keep moving until they can take you off the IV. Doc says another twenty-four hours. We can buy that much time.”
It hit her then what he’d said. When you wake up. “You drugged me.”
“I’m not stupid. The minute you thought your people were anywhere near, you would use telepathy to call them. Of course I drugged you. Do you think I didn’t see your body when they cut your clothes off? Somebody beat the hell out of you with a cane.” His voice was so low she could barely catch the flashes of repressed rage. He dragged his shirt up to show the crisscross of scars, long and deep, making a patchwork quilt of his body. “I know what it feels like to have someone cut and skin you like an animal—to treat you like you have no rights and no feelings—that you’re nothing at all.”
“Stop it.”
He swung around so she could see the mess that was his back, the numerous skin grafts and the terrible scars that remained of a once beautiful man. He spun back around, his face close to hers, his silver eyes, fierce and steady and totally implacable. “I saw what they did to you and you’re not going back there.”
“Stop it.” Her voice came out in a whisper. “Don’t say anything else.” He had reduced her to that helpless creature, crawling across the floor, determined she’d never beg for mercy, never give what was demanded of her. She saw herself through those silver eyes—not the soldier who commanded respect, but that animal, half-mad with pain and despair, torn and bleeding and without hope.
Of all the people in the world, it had to be Ken who saw the mess Brett had made of her body. I can keep this up all night, Mari; eventually you’ll give me what I want. It will just hurt a lot more, but I don’t mind that. Ashamed, she pulled the blanket closer around her as Brett’s words ec
hoed in her mind. Of course he hadn’t touched her face. Whitney would have killed him, but sooner or later, Whitney’s threats wouldn’t be enough to deter Brett. In a way she felt sorry for him. Whitney had programmed him, turned him into an animal who no longer thought about right or wrong, only what he wanted—and he wanted Mari. He would be on the team that came for her, and he would kill anyone who stood in his way.
She reached down to touch her hip. There was a bandage there. They’d found and removed the tracking device Whitney had implanted. She should have known they would find it. She had been certain her team would be able to find her quickly, using that tracking system, but now they would have to rely on Whitney—or Abrams and his military contacts—and that would take some time. There were few trails leading to the GhostWalkers and no one carried identification. If they died during a mission, they were buried quietly, without public fanfare, because no one knew they existed.
Ken jerked down his shirt, covering the scars running down his belly, disappearing even lower into his jeans. He leaned over her, his hand spanning her throat, fingers stroking a caress over her silken skin. His whisper was soft, lips against her ear so that his breath was warm, fanning curls of heat through her body. “I don’t live by anybody else’s rules. I make up my own.”
She wrapped her fingers around his wrist, a bracelet that went halfway around, but her fingers dug into his skin, into the ridges of his scars as her lashes drifted down. “Don’t let anyone else see me. Especially not Briony.”
Ken closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against hers. It was sheer hell to be so close to her and not touch her. Even with blood and sweat and the drugs, her scent drove him crazy. Whitney’s experiment into pairing through scent was more than a success. But even more than the physical need, he felt the urge to protect her. Maybe it had been the sight of her broken and battered body when they’d cut off her clothes. Maybe it had been the sound of Nico and the surgeon swearing, or Jack’s hiss of rage. All he could remember was feeling the impact like a punch to his gut, and then later, when they’d rolled her over to examine her back, he felt his heart being ripped from his body.