Power Game

by Christine Feehan

  Bellisia crouched down. "Let me." She didn't tell him he looked like hell. She pushed his hands away and pulled at the cords to loosen the ties. Her own hands were shaking and she willed herself to be calm. She didn't like not being in control, but she had no idea what Ezekiel expected of her.

  "Sweetheart, there's no need to be nervous. Nonny gave you her approval, and no one would dare upset you or try to take you back to the cage." He dropped a hand in her hair, burying his fingers deep and massaging her scalp.

  She took a breath and gave him honesty. "I'm not worried anyone is going to demand I go back to the cell. I just have never been inside a civilian's home. I was raised in barracks. I trained from the time I was a small child, not much older than the triplets. The stories you tell the girls? I never heard anything like that in my life. At night when you, Nonny and Pepper hold them on the front porch and rock them? I not only haven't had that; I never saw it. Until I watched the three of you with those little girls, I didn't know anyone could be so kind. This is all new to me. Having any kind of feelings for a man is new." She admitted the last in a very low voice.

  He caught her chin and gently raised her face until she was looking into his eyes. "You're safe with me, Bellisia. You always will be, and I don't mean just physically."

  She knew what he meant, she just couldn't conceive of it, not in regard to her. "Why? I knew Whitney paired us, but that's all about sex. And just for the record, I'm not going to be any better at sex than I am at kissing. I don't know the first thing about it." There was a hint of defiance in her voice, and that made her a little ashamed.

  "Have I indicated in any way that I didn't like your kisses? Not to say that if you feel the need for practice, I'm more than willing." He bent his head to brush his mouth over hers. "But I've got to lie down."

  She tugged his boots off and put a hand on his chest. Up high, where the least of the lacerations were. Pushing gently until he lowered himself to the mattress, she eased his legs onto the bed. Then she didn't know what to do. She felt a little helpless, looking around trying to figure out what she was supposed to do.

  "Come here, Bellisia." Ezekiel patted the bed beside him. "Lie down next to me."

  Her heart stuttered and then picked up the pace until it was galloping. She'd never done that before either. Gingerly she sat on the edge of the bed so she could remove her own shoes. Somehow taking off her shoes seemed intimate and made her feel very vulnerable. "This relationship thing is scarier than going alone into Cheng's laboratory. Believe me, his security is very tight, so that's saying something."

  "Is it possible Whitney has formed some kind of an alliance with Cheng?" Ezekiel reached up, took her arm and tugged her down until she was lying on her back beside him. That wasn't good enough for him. He rolled her over to her side and tucked her in close to him.

  "No way. Cheng sells arms to terrorists. Whitney's capable of using a terrorist cell to get what he wants, but he would never arm them, nor would he do any real business such as trading secrets. He's a monster and a sociopath, but he's also a patriot. He sent me to Cheng because he was afraid Violet was forming some kind of alliance with him--and she was. She needs money for the campaign. She plans to become vice president first. Maurice Stuart has named her as his running mate. Once he's elected president, she plans to have Stuart assassinated so that she becomes president. Cheng can provide the money for her, but his price is a GhostWalker, or at least the body of one."

  "Why didn't they put me on a freighter? They could have gone right out to the gulf."

  "But everyone was going to be searching for you, and they couldn't afford to get caught with you. They don't know your capabilities." She relaxed into his warmth. Now that they were discussing work, the tension ebbed out of her. "If you studied Cheng at all, you'd realize just how cautious he is. He would never risk an unknown with the capabilities the GhostWalkers are reputed to have in one of his laboratories before he knew for certain he could control that kind of power."

  He made a sound as if he was half drifting already. She put her arm around his waist. She couldn't help it. She wanted to be closer to him. He'd be leaving in the morning and she would have to have enough faith in him to keep an open mind about any kind of a relationship. They barely knew each other. And what kind of relationship was he after? She assumed, because she wanted a family, that he was thinking along the lines of something permanent, but she knew from all the gossip in the barracks that most men didn't settle down with one woman. They wanted variety. At least most of Whitney's supersoldiers seemed to confirm that.

  "Violet can't be president, Bellisia. She hates the GhostWalker program. I think mainly because it's Whitney's baby and she despises him with every cell in her body, but I think another part of her wants to be the only one with psychic and genetic gifts," Ezekiel said. "Did you know Whitney paired her with him?"

  "I suspected as much, but her actions don't appear to make that so."

  "That's the rumor. If it's true, it just goes to show Whitney can't control our emotions. He might be able to make us lust after one another, but he can't make me feel like this. Like I do about you."

  "You don't know me."

  "I know you. I knew you the minute I looked at you and knew you were the one. When a man has searched as long as I have, believing he didn't have a shot at finding anyone who would take him as he is, that man recognized the right woman, the only woman, and he isn't willing to walk away."

  "You're crazy. Do you have any idea how lethal I am?"

  "Yes." He sounded proud. "It turns me on, baby, knowing I'm always going to be living on the edge of danger."

  "That just makes you crazier than I thought you were."

  He laughed softly, and in the dark of the room, it sounded a little like music to her. Outside crickets and frogs created their own music, but she thought his laughter trumped their symphony. She had to be honest with him though. "I don't belong here, Ezekiel. As much as I love the fantasy of it, I don't fit in anywhere and I never will. Whitney saw to that."

  He threaded his fingers through hers and pulled her hand over his heart. "You still aren't getting it, baby, I don't belong here. I don't fit anywhere. None of the GhostWalkers do. Why? Because Whitney screwed all of us. The psychic enhancements were bad enough, but we signed on for those. The genetic enhancements were a surprise." He turned his head. "You belong with us. With me."

  She didn't want to feel hope rising. Hope was something she'd learned not to trust. She couldn't look away from him, but she couldn't respond either. She didn't dare.

  He brought their joined hands to his mouth, his teeth scraping gently at the pads of her fingers. "When I was a boy, just heading into my teens, hormones running wild and my strength growing, I was already taking care of Mordichai and Malichai. We were street rats, living in an abandoned building. I insisted we all go to school. They were so fucking smart, honey. Like you wouldn't believe. I had to fake papers and parents and addresses."

  "Parents? What happened to yours?"

  "Our mother was a crack whore. She sold herself for money for her drugs. Got hooked right after Malichai was born. Our father was killed in a shootout with a rival gang and she just went to hell after that. One day I heard a man talking to her about selling us on the street to some of his friends. She turned him down, but I knew it was a matter of time, that she'd get desperate enough. And she did."

  Her heart actually hurt for him. No wonder he was such a protector. He'd been looking after his brothers for a long, long time.

  "I took them and ran, never looked back. They trusted me to get them food and to keep them warm--which I did. There's only a couple of ways for a boy to earn money on the streets. I could be a runner for drugs--something I wanted no part of. I could sell my body, which I wanted no part of, or I could fight. I could use my fists to get us cash. There's always underground street fighting."

  "I heard of it, but don't know much about it."

  "It's pretty brutal, not a lot of rules. On my
thirteenth birthday, I promised the boys we'd get a cake. That meant shoplifting one. Not so easy. Cakes aren't exactly a good size or shape to steal."

  "I can imagine."

  He sucked her finger into his mouth, and her body went hot. Electric. He used his teeth again and then kissed the spot that stung. "I told the boys to wait, that I'd be back in a few minutes and we'd get the cake. I hadn't started fighting yet, not really. Just took a couple of easy bouts, but I knew I'd have to commit. I got halfway down the block and went back because I'd forgotten to tell the boys to put out the fire we'd started. I wanted it good and out before we left. The place was drafty and a good wind could get the ashes stirred up."

  She tightened her fingers around his, realizing he was giving her something important.

  "Malichai just couldn't wait for me. He'd rushed off to go look at the cakes, to try to find the 'right' one. He was only eight at the time. Mordichai was writing me a note because he wasn't about to let Malichai go off by himself. It wasn't safe."

  She took a breath, her eyes on his face. The night was dark, but she could see the outline of his face. He stared up at the ceiling, but his hand held hers almost tight enough to crush her fingers. She didn't pull away.

  "He was in an alley and there were two of them. Boys quite a bit older than me. I'd heard of them. Seen them around a time or two. Bullies. Liked to hurt others. Set fire to a couple of homeless camps in the alleys. They were kicking the crap out of Malichai. Had him down on the ground and he was bleeding, but he wasn't crying."

  He rubbed her knuckles along his shadowed jaw. She felt the dark bristles against her skin. The sensation was sensual in spite of what he was telling her--or maybe because of it. He was giving her a part of him she knew instinctively he'd never given anyone else.

  "That was the first time I felt it inside me. Really felt it and identified it for what it was. A dark energy that rose when I was angry. Before that day, it was always my temper. I knew I had a bad one and I had to keep it tamped down around the boys, but then it was rage coiling inside me like a fist. I could call it up at will, and I could defeat any enemy, even two seasoned fighters. It was dark and ugly but it served me well. I felt the power running through me and went after them. I nearly killed both of them."

  He turned his head toward her. "Baby, look at me." His voice was pitched very, very low.

  She obeyed him. His eyes were pure gold, glittering at her like a cat's in the dark. She held her breath.

  "When Whitney enhanced me, he boosted that part of me as well. It's there inside, a deep well, and it gets out every now and then. All that dark energy looking to fight. Looking to hurt." He touched his mouth to her knuckles. "Or find you. You took it away. I didn't have to hit something until my fists were bloody. I didn't have to hurt anyone. You kissed me and you took that away."

  That was huge for him. She could see why. She'd felt that buildup of power in him and realized he was capable of destroying everything around him--a bomb going off. "Did Whitney realize what he'd done?"

  "He doesn't know. How could he? Not even my brothers know. They just think I have a really bad temper when provoked." He pried open her fingers one at a time and then pressed a kiss to the center of her palm. "That's why it's so important to me that you wait for me, Bellisia. I know you're scared and probably confused. I know you don't have any reason to trust me, but I'm asking you all the same to wait for me. Here with Nonny and the girls. The people who matter to me. That should tell you how important you are to me."

  He gave her so much of himself, made himself utterly vulnerable, laying his emotions on the line for her, so much so that she was completely lost in him, willing to give him whatever he wanted.

  9

  Bellisia woke to the sound of giggling. She stayed very still, assessing her surroundings. She was in Ezekiel's bed. He was gone, but she wasn't alone. She smelled baby powder and shampoo. Very carefully she opened her eyes and peered at the three little identical girls from behind the veil of her lashes.

  "You're awake!" The one closest to her wore a long, ruffled dress with a blue sash. "I'm Ginger. These are my sisters, Thym"--she indicated an identical child with the same dress but with a green sash--"and Cannelle. Everyone calls her Elle." She wore the ruffled dress with a pink sash.

  "Good morning." She sat up carefully. Cannelle and Thym looked a little more hesitant than Ginger, and she didn't want to alarm them. "How did you know I was awake?"

  "Your heartbeat," Ginger said. "Why are you in Uncle Zeke's bed?"

  "I'm Bellisia. Your uncle asked me to wait here with your Nonny until he got back. He's going to be gone for a few days."

  Cannelle nudged Ginger. Ginger shook her head, and her sister glared and nodded vigorously, all the while studiously avoiding Bellisia's gaze. Clearly the girls could communicate telepathically.

  "You can ask me whatever it is you want to know," she said, trying out a tentative smile.

  Ginger sighed. "It's so rude. Mom said not to ask personal questions, and asking you if Uncle Zeke kissed you is rude."

  "Then ask her if she's Uncle Zeke's girlfriend," Thym chimed in.

  Bellisia sighed. This wasn't going to be easy. She felt like she was walking through a minefield. These girls adored their uncle and they might not take kindly to a woman in his life. "I did kiss him," she conceded. She wasn't touching the girlfriend question.

  "Nonny said if we came in here bothering you, she was going to tan our hides," Ginger said. "Although I don't think she understands what tanning a hide is. I asked mommy to look it up for me and we don't have hides to tan."

  Cannelle rolled her eyes. "I told you it wasn't like that but you don't ever listen."

  "I listen most of the time," Ginger protested. "Are we bothering you?"

  "Do all two-year-olds talk like the three of you? I didn't think they even understood that many words, let alone knew idioms."

  The three exchanged long looks, once again communicating. Of course it was Ginger asking the question. "What is an idiom?"

  Great. She didn't know the first thing about children or their capabilities of understanding. "Well, an idiom would be a phrase or word you can't take literally. There are tons of them. Tons would be an idiom because words obviously don't weigh a ton. Tan your hide might mean spank you. Bought the farm could be used to mean dying, not actually purchasing property."

  The girls wore identical frowns on their faces. "Say more," Cannelle pleaded, clearly wanting to understand.

  "Going with the theme of dying, kicked the bucket could mean that as well. Piece of cake can mean something is easy, as in talking with you three is a piece of cake."

  The frowns faded, to be replaced by three identical smiles. "Tell us more," Thym urged.

  Bellisia had to think hard to come up with a few more. It wasn't as if she went through life using idioms as a rule. "Let me see, there's break a leg, that's a rather famous one, and some people say it to mean good luck. Let the cat out of the bag doesn't mean someone actually put the poor cat in the bag, it means to tell a secret."

  The girls broke into giggles again. "Nonny has breakfast ready."

  "Well, if I said, don't bite off more than you can chew, I wouldn't be referring to breakfast and what you can eat, but I'd be saying not to take on a chore or task that's too big for you." She was still dressed in the clothes she'd been wearing from the night before. "Can you show me where another bathroom is?" Bellisia asked, needing to get the girls out of the bedroom, since she was not sure if Ezekiel had any weapons hidden.

  All three heads nodded simultaneously. They slid off the bed and started toward the door. Ginger looked back over her shoulder. "When we bite, we hurt people. Really, really bad."

  She delivered her warning in a grave, ominous tone, clearly wanting to scare her. Bellisia's eyebrow shot up. "You do? Biting does hurt," she said solemnly, all agreeable. Little Ginger was throwing down the gauntlet now that they were on the move.

  Ginger scowled at her as if she wasn'
t quite bright. Bellisia continued to smile as she followed the girls out of Ezekiel's room and down the hall. Cannelle and Thym had stopped outside a door.

  "Thanks, girls. I'll meet you in the kitchen. Tell Nonny I'll be right there."

  "Don't forget to wash your hands," Ginger said.

  "Thank you for the reminder," Bellisia said, and firmly closed the door on three little faces.

  What she wanted to do was fill the bathtub with water and climb in it, but she hastily took care of her morning business, going so far as to brush her teeth with her finger. She hoped she could use the telephone and let Donny know she was all right. Maybe he could bring a few of her things over for her. She didn't know if returning to the island would be a good idea, even for a couple of hours, not if Ezekiel thought someone might be coming for the three girls.

  She stared at herself in the mirror, barely recognizing herself. She looked different. Her eyes were enormous, very, very blue and ringed with her fair, bluish lashes. Her hair was a pale blond, a blue sheen running through it. She remembered the feel of Ezekiel's fingers in it and couldn't help smiling.

  He'd fallen asleep with her tucked close to him, his arm a band around her. She'd lain next to him, awake in spite of her exhaustion, listening to him breathing, knowing she was going to stay no matter what the danger was. She could fit in anywhere, be what Whitney had designed her to be, or she could try to be Bellisia, whoever that was.

  He wanted her to give his family the real thing. She was the rebel. The troublemaker. She was the one who stood up for the other women and nine times out of ten ended up in solitary. She took pride in her abilities and training. She'd worked hard to be good at what she did, and she'd do the same in whatever she did next. She took a deep breath and tried to comb her hair into some semblance of order with her fingers. She needed her things. She couldn't just run around in the same clothes day and night. No toothbrush. No hairbrush. There were such things as the niceties of hygiene.

  She made her way down the hall toward the sound of laughter coming from the kitchen. The walls were lined with photographs. Boys. Plants. The bayou. The swamp. She paused to study one of the oldest. It was clearly Nonny in her younger days, and looking down at her was a very handsome man. She was looking up at him with a faint smile on her face, but it was the way they looked at each other that caught and held her attention. It was one of the most intimate things she'd ever seen and yet they weren't even touching each other.