GhostWalkers 4 - Conspiracy Game

by Christine Feehan

  “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 feared. 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.”

  “You were thinking about the baby. You didn’t want to come here,” Jack pointed out. If she was going to be honest about the things she’d glimpsed, so could he. They had to come to an understanding at some point. She wasn’t ready yet, and he didn’t blame her, but he wasn’t going to pretend with her. She’d come to him. She had to know what kind of man she was dealing with. “I intend for you to make this your home.”

  “I’m going to take one day at a time. I’m too comfortable with your touch, and I don’t trust myself around you anymore.”

  “Don’t worry, baby, if you try to jump me, I’ll fend you off.”

  She smiled, just as he knew she would. “Don’t think it couldn’t happen.”


  The smile faded slowly and she looked frightened, so much so that Jack wrapped his arm around her waist. “What is it?”

  “Doesn’t that bother you? What he did to us? You don’t have to even like me as a person, Jack. All that matters is having sex together.”

  He reached for her hand, held it close to his chest, rubbing her skin with his thumb. “I’ve got news for you, Briony. Most men are just fine with that.”

  She yanked her hand away. “So I found out.” Hunching one shoulder, she turned on her side. “Isn’t there another bedroom where I can sleep?”

  “No. You can sleep in here. I have to be able to watch over you.”

  That low note of command was back in his voice, the one that grated on her nerves and implied that he was in complete control, while she was a victim of her runaway hormones.

  “Do you ever ask?”

  Jack didn’t know why her sarcasm made him want to smile. “No. What would be the point? You’re so tired, Briony, you don’t know what you’re doing or saying anymore. I’m not about to let anything happen to you. If you’d rather I sat in a chair all night, I will, but it won’t change how we’re both feeling.”

  “You don’t know anything about my feelings.”

  Exasperated, he caught her hand and forced it between his legs, over the thick bulge pulsing with heat and urgent need. “It’s not going to matter a damn whether I’m sitting six feet from you, in the next room, or lying beside you. This isn’t going to go away until I’m buried deep inside of you where I belong.” He let go of her hand, nearly shoving it away from him. “Now go to sleep before I forget all my good intentions and get a little relief.”

  Again Briony surprised him. He expected tears—or anger at his rough response, but she laughed softly. “There’s some comfort in knowing I’m not the only one suffering.”

  “You don’t have to. You give me the word and we’ll both be sleeping like babies.” If she said no, he might have no recourse but to head for the shower as soon as possible and relieve the terrible ache. It would be fast and cheap and unsatisfying, but hell, he was going to explode. And he had the sinking feeling the solution wouldn’t last more than the next lungful of air he drew.

  “I think a little suffering is good for your soul,” Briony said.

  Her voice was muffled in the pillow, but he was absolutely certain she was laughing at him. Jack contented himself with smacking her on her pretty little rounded ass, and was more than satisfied when she yelped and glared at him. He closed his eyes and tried not to think of her body naked, stretched under his while he drifted off to sleep. He hadn’t embarrassed himself since he was twelve, but tonight might start a new phase in his life. Even with his physical discomfort, there was something right about lying beside her, having her close enough to hear her breathing and touch her soft skin—just to know she was there.

  He heard her even breathing, slow and rhythmic, and knew she’d finally drifted off. Turning on his side, wrapping his body protectively around hers, he pushed his throbbing groin against the curve of her buttocks, one arm around her, his hand splayed over her stomach to hold their child as he allowed himself to drift into a light sleep.

  CHAPTER 12

  Briony wandered through the large house, surprised by how spacious it was. The ceilings were high and the rooms open, one running into the next. The house itself was shaped in a U, the kitchen, dining room, and great room separating the two wings. She peeked into the rooms in Jack’s wing and found only his bedroom and the bathroom finished. The second bedroom was still under construction, with the walls bare Sheetrock.

  In the great room, the furniture was sparse but well made, and she examined it closely, running her hand along the large, wide sofa, remembering Jack admitting that he made all of the furniture. It was beautiful, as were the other pieces, all made of the same hardwood. She didn’t know if it was milled from their own trees, but she suspected it was. The cushions were thick and made of leather, obviously custom-made to fit each piece of furniture. Jack continually surprised her.

  She followed the rich aroma of fresh coffee into the spacious kitchen and stopped abruptly when she saw the stranger sitting at the table. Even from the back, he looked like Jack, but there was a subtle difference in his scent. She stood in the doorway, reluctant to intrude.

  He turned his head and smiled at her. “You must be Briony. Come in and have some breakfast.”

  He looked like Jack—not as hard, but far more ravaged. The scars marring his skin looked painful and deep, but somehow he managed to look not only confident—but good-looking in a rough pirate sort of way.

  He stood up and crossed to the sink. “Coffee or orange juice with breakfast? I’d choose coffee if I were you. Jack’s already handing out orders about what you can and can’t have. It may be the last time you get close enough to even smell a cup of coffee in a while.”

  She laughed. “Both then.” It was difficult not to stare at him, and she didn’t know if it was his resemblance to Jack or the scars. Although Ken was much more mutilated, she recognized the patterns and symmetry of his scarring, so much like those on Jack’s body. “Where is he?”

  “Left for town before sunup. I think he’s buying clothes, groceries, and making you a doctor’s appointment.” He grinned at her as he held out a chair. “I’d love to be a little fly on the wall when they try to tell him he has to wait a week or two to get you in.”

  “Want to make a bet whether or not I’ll be going today?”

  “Hell no. Jack has no social skills. If they give him a hard time, he’s liable to pull out a knife this big”—he measured a foot with his hands—“and start cleaning his fingernails. If he wants you seen by a doctor today, you will be.”

  Briony sank into the chair. “He didn’t say anything about a doctor to me.”

  “You’ll get used to him. He doesn’t talk much. He’s more of a man of action. He muttered something about prenatal care while he was drinking his coffee. I didn’t know he knew what prenatal was.” Ken placed a plate of food in front of her. “I’m not the best cook, but it’s food.”

  Briony laughed again. “He definitely takes charge. And the food looks good.”

  Ken lifted his coffee cup, the smile fading from his eyes. “Jack’s always had to be in charge, and that won’t change. He’s a strong man, and he knows what he can and can’t have in his life to stay balanced.”

  “Just say whatever it is you need to say,” Briony encouraged.

  “Don’t push him too hard. And don’t hurt him.”

  Her eyebrow shot up. “That’s it? That’s the best you can do? I was expecting wisdom, something to make sense of all this, but that’s no help.” She ran her fingers through her unruly hair. “Give me something else.”

  Ken glanced right and left and leaned over the table. “He’s bossy,” he added in a conspiratorial whisper.

  “He’s a dictator,” Briony corrected. “Don’t try to soft-soap it for me. You should hear the man throwing out orders left and right.”

  Ken smirked. “At least now he can order you around instead of me. I owe you for that.”

  “Don’t count on it. I’m betting he has plenty for both of us.”

  “You have no idea.”

  There was a short silence, a little awkward in spite of the fact that both of them were trying. Briony took a deep breath and forced a smile. “What are you working on today? Can I help?”

  “I’m tiling one of the bathrooms. As you may have noticed, only a few rooms are actually finished. We’ve been taking our time and trying to get each room exactly how we want it. Jack wants to start on the second bedroom in his wing so by the time you have the baby, the room will be ready for it.”

  Briony shook her head. “Don’t go to a lot of trouble and expense. I’ll be able to protect the baby after it’s born. It’s just now, when they come at me, I worry they’ll hurt the baby, and as I get bigger, I’ll probably get slower. I’m not asking Jack to take on the responsibility fore
ver.”

  “Is Jack the baby’s father or not?” Ken asked, his gray eyes darkening, reminding Briony of thunderclouds.

  “Jack’s definitely the father, but I can understand why you’d ask. I’m not trying to trap him, Ken.” Briony felt dark color creeping up her skin.

  “I asked because you don’t seem to understand my brother. He’ll never walk away from you or the baby. You’re in his life now. It won’t always be pleasant or easy, but he’ll protect both of you with his life. He’ll make certain you have everything you could ever need—or want—because that’s the kind of man he is.”

  “I know he’s honorable,” she conceded. She couldn’t very well blurt out she wanted more than sex from Jack. She wanted to be loved. She wanted him to love her child, not just feel responsible. Of course Jack would take care of them. His code of honor dictated that he give them his best—but his code wasn’t his heart.

  Ken tapped the table with his finger, a small rhythm that told her volumes. She studied his face, the gentleness there, the concern, the flicker of unease.

  “Jack is… different—extraordinary, but different. It would take a very special woman to live with those differences,” Ken said.

  “You admire him.”

  “I know him.” He leaned back in his chair, legs sprawled out in front of him. “Most people don’t. You’ll be living here a long time, Briony. My advice is to get to know him.”

  It was heartbreaking to stare into the man’s ravaged face when he looked so like Jack. Not broken, not unbending—just accepting, as if he took whatever fate threw at him in stride and lived the best he could. That was Jack—and it was apparently his brother too. Briony ducked her head to keep those piercing eyes from reading her expression. She felt at home here. It made no sense, but these men, this house—all of it felt right to her.

  Restless, she stood up and crossed to the window. “Is the yard really booby-trapped? I’d like to be able to walk around outside. It’s so beautiful.”

  She heard the chair scrape. No footsteps. For such stocky men, the Norton twins walked softly, but she caught his scent as he neared her—almost the same as Jack’s, but with that strange, subtle difference. His hand came over her shoulder with a piece of paper in it.