Ruthless Game

by Christine Feehan

  Rose studied Kane's face--that face she dreamt about for eight long months. His beautiful, masculine carved features and his vivid piercing green eyes took her breath away. She couldn't look too long at him, afraid he'd see her reaction. From the window of her cell and the workout yard, she'd watched him just like a stalker might. Looking had turned into longing. He was a strong, confident male, definitely one who was skilled in his chosen profession. She watched other males, all strong as well, step back when he walked through a small crowd, yet he always seemed to treat everyone fairly. She loved everything about him from his wide shoulders to the strong lines in his face and his sudden, heart-stopping smile.

  She had dreamt of him long before she betrayed him. Wanting him. Building fantasies and unrealistic dreams until she became almost obsessed with him. When Whitney insisted on bringing in those horrible men with their lecherous smiles, uncaring that she didn't want them, men willing to force her, she'd become a desperate woman who would do anything to escape. A woman who would sell another human being into a living hell to gain her own freedom. She swallowed hard and looked away, ashamed of her need and her cowardice. She sold him out, and even now, she couldn't let him go.

  "Rose, what is it?"

  His voice was so gentle it turned her heart over. She felt his baby kick inside her, a strong reminder she would always have a part of him. The soup tasted like ashes now, the seeds of guilt and shame stripping her of all appetite. She placed the bowl on the nightstand. He was a man of honor, and she'd taken his pride, forced him into an untenable position with no way out. He loathed himself for getting her pregnant, and no matter how many times she told him it had been her choice, her decision, he refused to allow her to shoulder the blame. He was waiting patiently for her to answer his simple question--"What is it?"--but the answer wasn't nearly as simple as the question.

  "I'm sorry I got you into this, Kane, but I'm not sorry you're here with me. I'm afraid."

  There. She'd admitted it out loud. If the truth were told, she was terrified. She was so tired and she desperately needed to rest, to spend twenty-four hours without fear.

  She'd been alone for so long, scared for herself and for the baby. She looked up at him, ashamed, but unable to lie to him. "I need you."

  She loved his face, all those hard lines, his strong jaw, those cool, clear eyes. There was no subterfuge in Kane. He didn't have a hidden agenda--not like she had. He didn't lie about how he felt. He didn't hide the fact that his body wanted her and he was uncomfortable with it. She doubted if there were too many men like him in the world. She didn't need just anyone; she needed him.

  "I figured that out when I came up behind you in the room and you didn't put up much resistance." He smoothed back the hair falling around her face and ran the pad of his thumb down her skin.

  Rose tried not to shiver. Just as he'd entered the room where she waited for the informant, she'd inhaled and drawn his scent deep into her body, down into her lungs. She'd wanted to hold him there forever. She'd been so shocked that Kane had been the one to come for the hostages. Could a woman fall in love with a man just by observing him? By watching him through a window? She was afraid she lived in a dream world, not reality, because she had been alone and frightened far too long. There was no one else but Kane. Who else did she have? The other women in the compound had escaped and scattered to the winds, leaving her to face the birth of her baby alone. She wanted to burrow into him, stay in his arms where she felt safe, where she felt she finally had a sanctuary.

  He thought he'd hurt her when he'd had sex with her, that she had chosen him as the lesser of all evils--and maybe that was true to a small extent--but he'd made her feel beautiful and special when no one ever had. He made her feel as if she mattered for the first time in her life. He'd been so gentle. She dreamt of him nearly every night, and now, being so close to him, the image of him rising above her, his body locked deep inside hers, flooded her mind and refused to leave.

  "Rose," he prompted. "Talk to me about Jimenez. I think it's important. How did you meet the man?"

  "Diego moved into the apartment across the street from mine."

  "After you, then. You were already established in your apartment?"

  Rose nodded, her heart beginning to pound. She knew where this was going now, and she couldn't believe she'd allowed herself to be duped.

  "Who lived in that apartment when you first arrived? And why did they leave?"

  She was so tired. She just wanted to weep. And go to sleep. She shifted, a subtle movement, sliding closer to him, dropping her head on his chest. He had one of those thick chests that inspired fantasies and made a woman feel perfectly safe. She was very fond of his chest--a little hard though--but she found the perfect spot for her head. His arms closed around her, and her heart jumped. So did the baby. She closed her eyes and took his hand to press his palm to her belly where their child played. Beneath his palm, the baby pushed as if in greeting.

  Rose expected him to pull his hand away, but his fingers, beneath hers, spread wide to take in more. She relaxed a little, allowing some of the tension to ease from her body. "There was a multi-generation family in the apartment when I first moved in. It was crowded, so I just figured they'd found a bigger place to live."

  "Had they told anyone they were moving?"

  She was disgusted with herself. The family had children. The kids would have talked to their friends about leaving, and word would have gone along the street and through the neighborhood like wildfire. That was how it worked, and yet she hadn't even given it a thought that the family had moved in the night and the elderly gentleman had moved in the next day. She sighed out loud, letting him know she was aware of screwing up. "No, they hadn't told anyone. There was no gossip. I heard them leave, of course. I heard everything. A truck came, and men I assumed were friends loaded the furniture onto the truck."

  "Had you ever seen the friends before?"

  "No. And now that I'm thinking about it, I didn't see any of the family the entire day prior to the move. Not even their son, and he always was in the street with the other boys in the neighborhood. I can't believe I just walked right into their trap."

  "Whitney plays games, Rose. He loves to play his games."

  "I don't understand." There were tears in her voice, burning her eyes, clogging her throat. She was so damned tired. She didn't want to appear weak to him--he already thought she didn't have a brain in her head and she was out of shape--but the thought of Whitney still orchestrating her life depressed her beyond belief.

  His palm brushed caresses over her belly, a soothing motion that not only calmed the restless baby but eased some of the tension out of her. "He has to have some sort of way to track you, Rose, and when you managed to elude his private little army of psycho GhostWalkers, he thought you were worthy enough to play one of his games."

  Rose was silent, turning over the idea in her mind. She couldn't remember a time in her life when she had been anywhere but a military compound training for combat. Whitney had watched every move they made. There had been no privacy, everything documented as if he were studying insects under glass. He had often tried to pit them against one another when they were little girls. He had tried hard to make them rivals, and then later, wanted them cohesive, working as a unit. Yes, he liked psychological warfare. Everything was an experiment to him. He liked to create situations, sit back, and see what developed, and found amusement in watching them all figure out what he was doing.

  "How is he tracking me, Kane?"

  He frowned up at the ceiling. "I don't know yet, sweetheart, but it has to be by satellite, and the feed is intermittent, which explains why he keeps losing you between the times he sends his team after you. And it explains why, once he knew you were in this country, he decided to isolate you in a spot where he could send a team in under the radar and pick you up."

  "Before I have the baby?"

  "I don't think so. I think he'll wait until you're vulnerable and weak. He wants you both,
and he knows you're going to fight him."

  She turned her head up to look at him, although she continued to rest against his chest. "Then we have time."

  "If I'm right. It makes sense. If you buy Jimenez's story and retreat here to wait for the birth of your baby, all he has to do is wait until he's certain you had the baby and send in his force. You'll be weak and vulnerable. You'll be afraid the child will get hurt, and he'll have all the leverage he'll need to use against you. Cooperate or you won't see your child. That's Whitney's logic, and it's actually sound."

  "Except you're here, and he doesn't know that."

  "The mission was covert, and he has no idea anyone was sent in, let alone my particular team. But he'll find out eventually. He has sources placed high in the administration."

  "I need to rest, Kane. Just a day or two. Hopefully my body will settle down and I can move without risking an early birth."

  She was asking permission, and she hated that. It was important to her to make her own decisions, but she needed his protection, and if she was relying on his strength, she'd better use all of it, including his judgment.

  Kane nuzzled the top of her head with his chin. Her heart jumped a second time. She held her breath, waiting--needing. "I think resting might be the lesser of two evils. I want you somewhere safe to have the baby, Rose, but the baby has to be safe too. Running without thinking is plain foolish. We'll take precautions and give you a day or two to rest. But I want to find out how he's tracking you."

  Relief washed through her. She didn't have to move, hopefully not for at least twenty-four hours. She didn't have to be vigilant or do anything but crawl under the covers and go to sleep. Kane was there, and he'd watch out for their baby.

  As if reading her mind, Kane suggested, "You're falling asleep, sweetheart. Slide under the covers and close your eyes."

  "I have to brush my teeth first. But don't worry, once I'm under the covers, I'll be asleep," she assured, allowing the first tendril of happiness to sneak in.

  Rose knew she was dropping her guard and she was going to get hurt, but did it have to matter right at that moment? She felt brittle--full of tiny holes as if pieces of her were long gone and spiderweb cracks veined the shell of her body. One wrong move and she would shatter. She was drowning, pure and simple. She had no reserve left and was running on empty. If Kane didn't save her, she was going down for the last time, and this time, she wouldn't come up again.

  "Rose."

  Her heart thudded in her chest. His voice was so incredible, a sexy, low tone that resonated through her entire body. He made her feel different--feminine instead of a soldier with death on her hands. He made her feel as if life could be lived with laughter and happiness a part of it.

  "Look at me, sweetheart."

  If she did, her heart would be in her eyes. Her lashes fluttered reluctantly. She was not going to cry again. What was wrong with her? She hadn't cried once until she laid eyes on him again. She didn't want to look like a tragic drama queen to him. She was just so tired, and, if she was honest, so happy to see him.

  He caught her chin and forced her head up. The pounding in her chest was alarming. The baby drummed against her ribs, almost as frantic as she was. She moistened her lips, steeling herself to meet those gorgeous eyes. She was so broken, and Kane was the kind of man who would fix a woman, the rescuer, the hero, a man who could be counted on. She was using a good man, and she hated herself for it. The shame would be there in her eyes for him to see as well as her heart.

  The pad of his thumb brushed over her lips, and her womb clenched. The baby shifted. She forced herself to lift her lashes and look into his eyes. Everything in her stilled--settled. Kane, with his tough face and piercing eyes, looked at her and saw her. She could tell he wasn't looking past her or at an illusion she created. He saw her weaknesses, and it was all right with him. She didn't have to hide from him. She didn't have to project what he wanted to see. For the first time in her life she could just be herself in front of another human being.

  "Are you afraid of me?"

  She hadn't expected the question. Her mouth went dry. Was she? Not in the way he meant. Kane, for all of his ferocious soldier abilities, was gentle inside. She'd known that the moment she laid eyes on him. He could shift into battle in a moment, become a fierce protector, a fighter, and she had no doubt he would kill swiftly if need be, but he was gentle inside where it counted.

  "No ..." She had difficulty maintaining eye contact when that wasn't exactly the truth. He deserved truth from her, and she'd promised herself she'd give it to him, no matter the cost, if he stayed with her. "Yes."

  He leaned forward and brushed his mouth along hers. Featherlight. The breath of hope. Stealing her soul. Her heart jerked. Her stomach somersaulted. She held herself very still while sensations poured through her veins and rushed to invade her cells. She'd already taken him deep into her lungs, and she knew she'd never be able to get him out again.

  "You smell a little like heaven, Rose," he said and shifted his weight, moving off the bed in one fluid motion that reminded her of flowing water. "I keep my promises. If you believe nothing else, believe that."

  She did believe he kept his promises. She believed in him. And that was the entire problem. She was a woman who had been betrayed at birth by her own parents, dumped in an orphanage because she wasn't male. The orphanage betrayed her by selling her to Whitney. Whitney betrayed her by raising her as a soldier instead of a child, and then conducting his experiments. In the end, he'd taken everything from her, including her dignity, forcing her into a breeding program, reducing all those years of work and discipline to nothing at all. He treated her as if it was only her body that mattered, not her psychic talent or all of her training. She was intelligent and able to fight as well as the male GhostWalkers, but Whitney had denied her even that. Believing in anyone was absolutely insane. Yet there was Kane.

  Kane left her there on the bed, taking the empty soup bowls with him. It was difficult to leave, but he was scaring her, and that was the last thing he wanted. She was stressed enough and in a delicate condition. He could stitch his own wounds and those of his team. He'd even been known to push a bullet through his skin a time or two, but this baby thing had him rattled. He didn't have a clue what to do in the particular situation.

  At the door he paused and looked back at her. She seemed so small and lost and alone. "I'll be back in a few minutes to tuck you in."

  That bought him a ghost of a smile. "I'm not three."

  "I know. I'm not doing it for you." He turned and walked away from the sight of her.

  She was enough to break any man's heart. For one moment he wished he was the hero type, the white knight charging in to save her, but he was a man, awkward in the presence of women, and he'd already made a few blunders. He washed the few dishes and went back into the pantry to look at the birthing kit--just in case.

  He was a man who believed in preparing for emergencies. Having babies fell under that category. Beside the kit she'd put together were several books, and because he was reluctant to open the sealed plastic container and look at the contents, he browsed through the books. The titles told him a lot about Rose. She planned well for things.

  One book was on natural childbirth, another focused on nutrition for the pregnant woman. Both books had been read many times. The pages were worn and dog-eared. Another book on parenting caught his attention. He flipped through it and found many passages underlined. There were notes in the margin Rose had made to herself, multiple reminders to find other titles on various subjects. Like Kane, Rose could kill a man with her bare hands without blinking, but diapering a baby was out of their realm of expertise.

  He closed the book slowly, the revelation hitting him hard. She had to be every bit as scared as he was over the birth of their child. She had no more experience than he did. Just because she was a woman didn't mean that she understood any of this. She'd never had parents to give her a blueprint. Neither of them had the least idea of
what they were doing, but at least Rose was trying. She was determined that their child would have the chance in life she never had--to grow up in a loving home.

  Kane had grown up on the streets. He didn't know any more about parenting than Rose did, but he had a family. His team were all members of that family, GhostWalkers every one of them, intensely loyal to one another. They would extend that same loyalty to Rose and his child.

  His child. He sank into a chair a bit overwhelmed by the idea. He'd searched for Rose for months because he was tied up in knots with wanting her, but he hadn't honestly thought too much about what it would mean if she was truly pregnant. His child. Their child together. They had created life. Both had DNA that wasn't altogether human, and both had psychic gifts. What would that mean for their child? Rose hadn't had the benefit of doctors for prenatal care. He rubbed his temples.

  A child was a huge responsibility. Did he want that? Hell yes. The moment he fit his palm over Rose's belly, swollen with his child, the baby had rocked his world. That little flutter pressing hard against his hand to let him know there was life there, a life they'd created together, had found its way into his heart. He was solidly with Rose--Whitney was not getting their son.

  He padded silently back into the bedroom, the birthing book in his hand. Rose looked at him, her expression drowsy--and sexy. He nearly groaned aloud. Was it perverted to find her incredibly sexy in her present physical condition? He should have brought the other book, the one about how her body changed during pregnancy. It had advice for husbands. He liked the way the word fit. Husband. Yeah. He could do that--with Rose.

  "I just came in to say good night," he offered, keeping his tone low.

  "I'm glad you did. I wanted to say I'm glad you're here. You can sleep here. It isn't as if we haven't shared a bed," she added. "There's plenty of room."

  He wasn't getting in a bed with her. What was she thinking? His body was already doing enough raging at him. "I think it's best to keep a lookout." They wouldn't be coming until the following night, he was fairly certain, but he wasn't taking any chances. He wasn't going to sleep and leave her vulnerable. "I think I'll catch up on my reading."