Conspiracy Game

by Christine Feehan

  Ken nudged her foot under the table and flashed a quick grin from behind his menu, winking at her.

  "Yes, it does, Jack. I think I'll have that." Briony gave the waiter her menu and smiled at Jack.

  "And she'll have a glass of milk as well," he added.

  Ken nearly spit water over the menu. "Milk? You having it too, Jack?"

  "Sure. Why not? And I'll have the chicken pasta as well," Jack said, handing the waiter his menu.

  "I'm driving, so I'll have a very hot cup of coffee," Ken said. "And a steak, rare, with a baked potato and everything on it."

  "Ken?" Briony widened her eyes in helpless innocence. "That might make me sick just to look at it. I've been feeling so nauseous lately."

  Ken jerked his head up, a suspicious frown on his face. "You wouldn't joke about something like that, would you?"

  Briony covered her mouth with a delicate hand. "Just saying steak and rare made my stomach upset."

  "Fine. Give me the chicken pasta as well. But hold the damn milk." Ken glared at her. "Just how long do you plan on being sick?"

  She grinned at him. "A long, long time, now that we've had the good news about the baby and all."

  "Babies," Jack corrected.

  "Comes in useful, does it? I had no idea you had a mean streak in you, but I should have guessed, with Jack adoring you and all."

  Briony took a sip of water, looking away so he wouldn't see her expression. She didn't seem very good at hiding her thoughts from either of them. Jack didn't adore her. The chemistry was there, exploding all over the place, but he didn't adore her--that was never going to happen.

  Don't count on it. The warmth of Jack's voice caressed her mind, touched her intimately, and spread through her body.

  For a moment she could barely breathe with wanting him.

  You can't look at me like that, baby. Not here. Not where I have to keep my mind on protecting you.

  She had to remember to shield her mind from him. She wasn't used to having anyone around who could catch her thoughts, and worse, her face seemed to be an open book.

  "Don't look at him, Bri," Ken suggested. "Pay attention to me. As soon as we hit the bar, he's going to go all bossy and possessive and act like an idiot and annoy the hell out of you anyway, so don't even think nice thoughts about him."

  "Are you, Jack?" she asked. "Are you going to go manly and possessive and act like an idiot?"

  He shrugged his broad shoulders. "Probably."

  "Why? I'm pregnant and on the run, Jack. Do you think I'm likely to fling myself at another man and beg him for wild sex?"

  Jack groaned. "You can't say wild sex. You can't think it. I have the hard-on from hell now, thank you very much."

  Briony flushed, damp heat soaking her panties and her breasts suddenly aching and full. She lifted her chin. If he could admit it, then so could she--just not aloud. You can't say hard-on from hell because then I want to touch--and taste, and have you buried very deep inside me. She took great care to keep her barriers up against Ken and hoped Jack was doing the same.

  Son of a bitch, Briony, you're going to fucking kill me talking like that. Jack caught her hand and drew it under the table, pressing her palm tightly against him.

  His reaction was definitely gratifying. She could hear the need pulsing in his voice, hoarse and clipped and edgy, feel it in the thick bulge throbbing under the thin material of his jeans. Nice to know I'm not alone.

  "Would you like me to go check you into a hotel room?" Ken asked, glaring at them. "Because it's getting embarrassing sitting with the two of you." Hell, bro, we've been mind-to-mind so much we don't even think about it and certainly have never cared how hot either of us was for a woman--but it feels different with Briony. I feel like a damned Peeping Tom.

  I'm sorry. I'll try to be more careful about protecting you.

  I'd appreciate it.

  "You'll be doing a lot of babysitting, Ken," Jack said, releasing Briony's hand as the waiter arrived with their dinner.

  Briony busied herself with her pasta, not wanting to think too much on her confession and what the repercussions might be. She was getting used to the tremendous pull between them. It wasn't waning in strength--if anything, it was growing by just being in close proximity and getting to know each other better, but she was learning to handle it. Even so, she sat eating her dinner, listening to the sound of the two brothers' voices, and all the while she was acutely aware of every move, every gesture--no matter how small--that Jack made.

  He watched the doors and the people passing by. The table was situated where they could look out, but no one would see them. She realized that they were acting as they always did--her being there didn't mean added security. They were always watching--always aware. What did that say about their lives? She studied them closely. The same shadows were in Ken's eyes. That same wariness. He looked more relaxed, maybe even more easygoing, but she realized it was a facade. And they knew each other so well, had worked with each other, could communicate silently--they were definitely a team, and a lethal one at that. It occurred to her that it was somewhat of a miracle that both of them had allowed her into their lives.

  It was Ken who paid the bill, and all the while he was busy talking to the waiter, Jack was at his back, gaze flat and cold and watchful. How long had they had to be afraid someone wanted them dead? Too long. It had to have been too long.

  Briony stayed between them as they made their way out into the dark of night. Music blared down the sidewalk, pouring out of a building just up the street. Neither man said anything, but they turned in the direction of the sound.

  "I've never actually gone in a bar," Briony confided, sliding closer to Jack as they went into the darkened interior. "I couldn't go into such a confined, crowded space. There were too many overwhelming emotions--desperation and loneliness seemed the most prominent when I'd pass by an open door. I wasn't taking any chances."

  "I'm forced to come here," Jack said, scowling at his twin.

  Ken grinned unrepentantly. "Should I order you milk, Briony?" He turned to go to the bar.

  "You do and I'm going to prove to you that I'm enhanced." Briony heard his laughter as Jack ushered her toward a booth near the back where he had a clear view of the room. The crowd parted like the Red Sea as he walked through.

  "You really don't like it here, do you?" she asked. She had to sit close to him in order to be heard above the music and the noise of the crowd.

  "Too many variables. All it takes is one really drunk cowboy and things are going to go to hell fast."

  She patted his thigh. "Don't worry, I'll take care of you."

  He looked so startled she couldn't help but smirk. At once he relaxed, taking her hand. "I do enjoy watching Ken have fun. He loves country music. He plays the guitar and sings like you wouldn't believe. Don't tell him, but he has a good voice--really good. Before Ekabela had him tortured, all the women flocked around him like bees to honey."

  "And now?" She watched Ken. He didn't look at the women. He sat on a bar stool and talked to the bartender, and after bringing them both drinks--hers Coke--he talked to several men who were obviously friends. He didn't look like he had a care in the world, but she knew differently when Jack took her hand and nearly broke her bones squeezing it.

  Can you feel him? He tries to shut me out, but this is hell. Still he makes himself come here. He doesn't have retreat in him. See why I admire him?

  There were a lot of reasons to admire Ken. Watching him make the rounds, she sat quietly enjoying the music, holding Jack's hand, all the while feeling the warmth of his body so close to hers. Ken took about an hour and then slipped into the booth and waved them onto the dance floor.

  "You sure, baby," Jack asked. "You don't have to, if you're tired."

  "I'd love to dance with you." She wasn't certain why he looked so leery until she slipped into his arms.

  His scent enveloped her, his arms surrounded her, and his chest felt real and solid beneath her cheek. His body respo
nded to her nearness with a tight fullness pressed close to her belly. It was a slow, dreamy song, and she let herself drift in a haze of need and lust, of urgent desire, matching the sway of his body, finding a perfect rhythm with his body. It was a moment in time no one could ever take away from her.

  His hands held hers while he guided her through the swaying crowd. He bent his head to brush his mouth along her temple. She'd never danced with a partner--she couldn't touch anyone so intimately--but Jack was sure and strong and led her as if they'd been dancing forever.

  She closed her eyes on the way home, not letting the conversation between the brothers take away from the experience. She was tired, but happy--in spite of the fact she was having twins. She must have fallen asleep, because she woke to Jack carrying her into the house.

  Briony took a long bath, and when she came out, Jack was already lying on the bed, his hair still damp from a shower. She raised an eyebrow, but her body reacted immediately, breasts aching. Beneath the thin tank top, she felt her nipples peaking. "Are you sleeping here again tonight?"

  He pulled back the covers. "It's the only way I'm going to get any sleep. If you don't want me in the bed, I'll take the chair."

  "No, we managed last night." She slipped between the covers, her heart beating a little too fast. "I'm going to have nightmares about babies everywhere."

  Jack rolled over and shoved the blankets off of her to expose her before pushing her tank top from her stomach. His hands passed over her rounded tummy, then surrounded it, and he bent forward to press his lips against her skin. "Hello in there. Come to attention. This is your father talking. Your mom's a little afraid of this twin thing. We're going to have to ease her into it, so don't go kicking too hard at first. Give her a little time to adjust."

  "The baby book says the baby can hear and eventually recognize our voices, but not this early."

  "But they aren't talking about our babies, Briony. They hear me. They know. And they aren't going to be little soldiers for Whitney and his fucked-up plans."

  Briony smiled. "If you're really so sure they can hear you, stop swearing. They'll come out saying the F word and I'll tell the doctor you taught it to them."

  "Sorry. That was a slip, boys. Don't be saying that word."

  "Boys?" She caught his head in her hands, forcing him to look up at her. "Not boys. Boys are difficult. They do all sorts of boy things."

  "Not girls, Briony. Can you see me trying to keep up with two little girls? And what happens when they get older and some boy wants to take them on a date?" He groaned and once again stretched out, turning on his side to prop himself up with one elbow. "I'd either lock the girls in closets or spend my life picking off hopeful horny teenagers."

  "Hopeful horny teenagers?" she echoed.

  "We'd have to homeschool the girls and put up a twelve-foot barbwire electric fence complete with a security system."

  "Let me get this straight. If we have boys, they can run wild and be free, but our daughters will be locked up in closets and behind fences for all time."

  "That's about right," Jack agreed. "Ken and I can handle boys, Briony, but no girls, so keep that in mind when you have these babies."

  She patted his hand. "I hate to be the one to give you the bad news, but you determine the sex of the baby, so if we have a girl, it's all your fault."

  The touch of her hand, light and teasing over his, squeezed the air out of his lungs. He stared up at the ceiling and wondered how he'd gotten so lucky, to have her in his home, in his bed, lying in the dark teasing him. It didn't seem possible. His life was what he'd chosen and he had no complaints. He was used to silence. To being alone. There were days when he didn't talk to another human being, and weeks when he went without conversing with anyone other than Ken. He had always thought of himself as solitary--it was safer for everyone that way--but now, with Briony lying beside him, her body warm and soft and her scent teasing his senses, he felt an odd sense of peace.

  "Strange thing." He made the confession aloud, not knowing why, but wanting her to know. "I've never actually relaxed with anyone around, not enough to sleep. Even out in the field, I have to move away from everyone or I don't close my eyes--but you relax me. Before, when we were together, first I thought it was exhaustion, and then the sex, but it's you." He pressed his hand over his heart. "It's just you."

  She was going to rip him apart when she tried to leave him, and it would come--maybe not now, or a month from now, but sooner or later, his domineering ways would make her need to rebel. She couldn't understand the demons that drove him. Hell, he couldn't--why should he expect that she would?

  "I thought I could relax with you because you shield me from emotion, but that's not the reason either." She turned toward him, her fingers brushing his face as if she could read his expression. "You don't think Whitney could do that too, do you?"

  "No." His voice turned grim. "Whitney doesn't want to make it easy on anyone, Briony. He could have kept you with an anchor, but he deliberately put you with a family where you'd be out in the public on a daily basis. You had to interact. That was on purpose, for his little experiments. What were you made of? Could you find a way to overcome the pain? Overcome your differences living in a normal family? Bastard. He knew you were going to suffer every damn day of your life--and that there was every possibility your family would reject you eventually."

  "They thought I was autistic at first. Mom would hold me, and I felt everything she was feeling, knew what she was thinking, and it hurt so bad. I used to curl up in a ball under my bed and hide. She cried and cried, and I knew I was failing her."

  His hand found her hair. "That's bullshit, baby. You've never failed anyone in your life. You did whatever it took to live in that family and fit in. Whitney needs someone to cap his ass."

  Briony snuggled closer to him, so close he could feel her breath against his chest. "Well, don't do it tonight. I'm thinking I'm going to have nightmares about little boys running wild in the forest and me chasing them all. If I wake up screaming, it's your fault."

  He loved the soft, drowsy note in her voice; it was as sexy as could be. What would it be like to be normal? He didn't know. Ken didn't know. And he doubted if Briony would ever know. But she was with him now, and he could wrap his arms around her, and somehow the memories of blood and death seemed far away.

  CHAPTER 14

  "Oh you angel!" Ken leaned across the table and pressed a kiss to Briony's temple. "Who knew the woman liked to cook? Marry me right now. We'll run away together."

  "Get the hell off of her," Jack said, his tone mild. He forked another bite of fluffy omelet into his mouth. "I had the good sense to get her pregnant, so you can just back off."

  "Good food and a beautiful woman haven't improved your disposition much," Ken grumbled. "And having a baby hasn't improved your language either."

  "Not one baby," Jack corrected, "two."

  Briony laughed softly, shaking her head at him. There was a note of pride in his voice he hadn't bothered to conceal--one totally at odds with his tough, scarred features. "You're so conceited."

  The sound of her laughter slid over his skin like fingers trailing over his nerve endings, stirring his body into yet another erection. He could sit across from her every morning, drinking in her tousled hair and her bright eyes and sunny smile. Even if Ken was deliberately provoking him by making goo-goo eyes at her.

  "Well if you're going to insist on twins every time I get pregnant, this is it, buster," she said and reached over to pour coffee into Ken's cup.

  "Even your coffee is great," Ken said.

  Briony's eyebrows drew together in a frown. "How would I know? Every time I try to sneak a cup, your brother dumps it down the sink."

  Jack lifted the book he had open at the table. "It says right here, caffeine isn't good for you or the baby. And we need fresh fruit, not juice. Do you have any idea of the amount of calcium you need?"

  She yanked the book out of his hand and flung it across the room hard
enough that it hit the wall. "You've got to stop reading from the Book of Satan. You're clearly becoming obsessed."

  "Rebellion!" Ken grinned at her. "I knew it was coming. You can't mess with a woman's coffee, Jack. See, hon, if you marry me and cook three meals a day with a snack or two thrown in daily, I'll let you have all the coffee you want."

  "How good of you to let me." Briony kicked his shin under the table. "You just pretend to be the sweet, easygoing brother. I'm not marrying you so you have a cook."

  "That's not right," Ken complained, rubbing his shin and trying to look pathetic. "I'm still growing, and all I get around here is lists for work." He held up a small notebook and scowled at his brother. "No fuel to keep me going."

  "She's not cooking your meals, Ken, so stop whining." Jack glanced over at Briony. "I told you he whined."

  "Wheedle," Ken corrected. "I wheedle. It sounds so much better than whining."

  Laughing, Briony shook her head. "You two are so crazy. So is it okay for me to walk through the yard now?"

  "We just have alarms set," Ken said, "small strobes that will go off to alert us if anyone has breached the parameters. It's safe enough."

  Jack looked up alertly. "Are you planning on going for a walk today?"

  She nodded. "If I have the time. I want to do a little cleaning and put together something for dinner."

  He shook his head. "You don't have to do that."

  "Idiot," Ken hissed, wadding up a napkin and throwing it at his brother. "Are you insane? Don't listen to him, Briony. You want to cook, get on with it, I say."

  "I like to cook, Jack. It's always been something I've been interested in doing. I didn't have a chance to do a lot of it, but now I've got several months to play."

  "I bought you some sketchpads the other day," Jack said. "I left them in the great room on the coffee table along with a few other drawing supplies."

  "You did?" Briony's eyes lit up. "Thank you for remembering."

  "He's been looking all morning at a furniture book," Ken confided. "Thinks he can make a better cradle than you can find anywhere else, and he probably can too. Believe it or not, my brother's gifted that way." There was a singular note of pride in Ken's voice.

  Jack flicked a repressing glance at him and then caught the expression on Briony's transparent face. She looked at him almost as if the sun rose and set with him. Her expression turned his insides out and made him uncomfortable. She was getting the wrong idea about him. Part of him loved it and part of him--the sane part--hated it. And damn him to hell, there were the beginnings of love in her eyes. Between Ken and Briony he felt like a fraud. They were killing him with their belief in him.