Spider Game

by Christine Feehan

  "Sorry, ma'am," he muttered, not looking in the least sorry.

  Later, Cayenne was fairly certain that she was going to hear all about Violet Smythe, and he wasn't going to be calling the woman Violet or Smythe.

  "Take the call," Wyatt said. "We need to know what she's up to."

  Trap sighed. "This is fucking annoying. It's my wedding day. I don't want to talk to, or have to listen to, a lying bitch, but if you think it's necessary, Wyatt, I'll do it. Did you set up to record the conversation?"

  Wyatt nodded. "We're on it. Put her on speaker so we can hear."

  Trap threaded his fingers through Cayenne's and tugged until she followed him across the room to the phone. The room was so silent, she was certain they could have all heard the proverbial pin drop. He clamped her to his side, one hand at her waist but fingers sifting through the thick strands of hair curling at the hollow of her spine.

  "Dawkins here." He sounded abrupt. Rude. Annoyed.

  "Please hold for Senator Smythe," the voice intoned.

  Trap waited until the silver voice spoke in his ear. "Dr. Dawkins?"

  "Next time, if there is one, you want to speak to me, don't have some joker tell me to hold for you. You want to talk, be on the fucking phone."

  There was a small silence. "I understand, Dr. Dawkins." The voice was strictly neutral now. "I wanted to talk to you about something important as well as exciting. I'd like to do that in person and hope you'll accept my invitation to a ball. It's actually a fund-raiser to raise money for the presidential campaign. More importantly, I would like to have a meeting with all the top scientists we have here in the United States. I'm running with the presidential candidate on a platform that is very dear to me. I'd like the United States to be the country to find the cure for cancer. I don't doubt that it can be done if I can bring all our top people together to work for the same goal. Not for glory or money, but to actually help mankind. There isn't a family untouched by cancer. The formal invitation will be in the mail for you and your wife. I know you're getting married, Dr. Dawkins, and I would very much like to meet you and your wife. Are you at all interested?"

  Curing cancer. Trap turned his head to look at the woman standing in Gator's arms. Whitney had used her body, even when she was a child, to experiment with curing cancer. He actually gave her cancer repeatedly. No one would ever pass up a chance to meet with the top researchers in their fields when they came together to find a cure for cancer.

  "I don't work alone. Dr. Fontenot is my partner. I'm also in the military and I run missions." He wanted to make that clear.

  "I understand. I know Wyatt Fontenot works with you, and of course, he and his wife are also invited."

  "I'll be bringing a security team."

  "We'll have plenty of security, Dr. Dawkins."

  "I bring my own or I don't show."

  "Of course. I look forward to seeing you."

  Trap hung up the phone and turned to the others in the room. They'd all been able to hear the entire conversation.

  "She's up to something," Flame said. "She may be bringing all the top researchers together, and maybe they'll even find a cure, but she can't be trusted. Not for a minute. She's up to something."

  "I agree," Wyatt said. "The question is, what is it? What does she really want?"

  Ryland shrugged. "The only way of knowing is for Trap and Wyatt to meet with her. Trap will be bringing a very large security team with him."

  CHAPTER 19

  Trap closed his fingers around Cayenne's slender wrist--the wrist adorned with a brilliant emerald bracelet. He found he suddenly preferred emeralds when he'd always been a diamond man. Cayenne subsided on the leather seat of the limousine and looked up at his face. He knew what she saw. He'd gone where he always did when he was in public, his face stone, no expression, no emotion.

  He tightened his fingers until they shackled her, until they were a shackle around her small, delicate wrist. "You don't leave my side for any reason, Cayenne. Do you understand me?"

  Wyatt, sitting across from them, glanced at Trap sharply, but turned his head and looked out the darkened window at the spectators lining the streets. He didn't say a word, and Trap knew he wouldn't. This was between Trap and Cayenne and Wyatt wouldn't interfere--unless he thought Trap would lose his mind--a distinct possibility.

  "Trap." Cayenne's voice was soft. Gentle. Loving even. "We have nearly two full GhostWalker teams here for security."

  "I don't fucking care." He bit the words out, yanking her closer to him. She looked so damned serene, not at all as if they were going into a major ambush. "This isn't a party, baby, this is a fucking nightmare. A trap. They have something planned, and that something could be another attempt to kill you. When I tell you to stay at my side, I mean no more than an inch from me. I want to feel your hand on me at all times."

  She continued to look up at him, her eyes as green and vibrant as the bracelet on her wrist and the necklace at her throat. She had no idea what they cost, and probably would be upset with him if she did know, but he liked seeing them on her. The earrings in particular, framing her face and surrounded by the cloud of dark hair, highlighted the green of her eyes. She took a breath.

  "Honey, I'm not going to leave your side." Her hand came up, fingers brushing at the lines etched deep in his face.

  Her touch always undid him. That look on her face. She didn't hide her emotions, not like he did. That look was pure love and it always rocked him. Sent shock waves through his system and turned him to jelly. He bent his head and took her mouth. Hard. Possessive. Angry. He didn't want her here. He didn't want her anywhere near Violet Smythe and her schemes.

  Flame had done Cayenne's makeup. Not much, just enough to highlight her beauty. He took the lipstick right off. All that gloss that emphasized the beauty of her ruby red bow of a mouth. He loved her mouth, and that gloss sent heat coursing through his body and centering in his cock. She tasted exotic, just the way she looked, and he didn't give a damn if Wyatt was witnessing his raw vulnerability. Not. One. Fucking. Bit.

  Cayenne didn't protest that he was ruining her makeup--she kissed him back. Giving herself to him. Reassuring him. He lifted his head, one hand framing her face, his gaze drifting over her. Brooding. Pushing down the feeling of dread. They were walking into a trap. He knew that with certainty. He just didn't know whose trap it was or what they wanted.

  His thumb slid over the perfection of her skin. Silky soft. "The uncles could be close. The series of articles Doug Levi did on us will bring them out. The taming of the beast was a good slant. I want you to keep your eyes open."

  "I will, Trap." She gave him that too.

  For some reason that just pissed him off more. "Don't fucking appease or patronize me, Cayenne," he snapped. "I know something's going down tonight. I know that one hundred percent. You can't fuck up tonight."

  Wyatt stirred. You're being a dick and damn fool.

  I don't give a flying fuck. She needs to get this.

  Wyatt heaved an exaggerated sigh, but kept his mouth shut.

  Something moved in Cayenne's eyes. Not anger. Something nameless. She sat still, her emerald eyes sparkling like the gems adorning her body. She wore a one-of-a-kind, designed specifically for her, Oscar de la Renta ball gown of shimmering silver. She wouldn't like how much that cost either, but she looked stunning in it. The gown clung to her curves, showing off her hourglass figure.

  He'd gotten his way with her hair. The women had insisted she wear it up, that Cayenne would look more sophisticated. He wanted it down. He loved the silken waterfall and how, when she moved, the unexpected red hourglass appeared and disappeared. She wore it down for him, just like he knew she would. Because he asked her. It was always that simple. He asked, she gave it to him.

  He tried to push down the ice-cold anger. The rage in him. Ice-cold was far worse than burning hot. She couldn't look at him with those eyes, her tempting mouth and love on her face, so damn calm when he knew she was walking into danger.
r />   "Trap, I'm not afraid."

  "You should be."

  "I'm not. You'll be with me. The entire team will be with us. We can do this. No matter what they throw at us, we've got this. I love you. I'm not going to lose you to them. You aren't going to lose me. As for your uncles, I hope they're so stupid that they make their try for me."

  His thumb slid over her silken skin again, traced her high cheekbone and then swept the line of her jaw. "I love you with every fucking cell in my body, Cayenne. You're all I've got."

  He made the confession because she had to know. The money. The fame. None of it mattered. She mattered. He didn't even know how it happened. He just knew he wouldn't survive if she were taken from him. He'd lost too much. He couldn't go through that and survive intact. He didn't care if he was revealing everything to Wyatt or not. She had to know. She had to understand what would happen if he lost her. Maybe Wyatt needed to know as well.

  Her hands framed his face. She leaned into him, her emerald eyes boring into his. Piercing him right to his soul. "Listen to me, honey. Hear what I'm saying. You look at me and you see a woman you love, someone vulnerable. Someone you want to protect and care for. You do that well. You love me better than any other man could. I know that. But you have to see who and what I am. Look at me and really see me. If you do that, you won't be afraid for me. Afraid for us."

  His gaze roamed her face, his heart pounding hard in his chest. She was so beautiful. So small and delicate. Her gaze remained steady on his. The love was there. That soft silken skin. The cloud of hair he loved to sink his fingers into. Her body, the one that belonged to him. The one she gave him. The one that brought him unimaginable pleasure.

  His heart constricted. It hurt to look at her. To see her beauty. To see that look of love on her face and know it was all for him. He did know her. All of her. That voice that could lure men, make them forget, make them do her bidding. He was mostly immune, but it was because his brain was always occupied with other things and could dull the impact. The silk she spun. So lovely. An art form really. Silk she could bind around a person in seconds. Her skin, that stunning expanse of skin that was really armor so strong it could stop a bullet.

  There was her mouth. Alluring. Tempting. More than beautiful. Deadly. She could smile and kill in seconds. She didn't hesitate under fire. She had good instincts, and she moved like lightning. For him, that lethal, deadly side of her was part of her siren's call. Part of what he loved so much. One moment all silk and vulnerable. He loved when she lay under him, helpless, pleading, begging him for release, knowing at any moment she could lose complete control and sink her teeth into him. He lived for those moments when it happened. He had the bite marks to prove it.

  She was lethal to anyone but him. He loved knowing that. He loved that with the rest of the world she was shy. A hidden danger. She clung to him. Relied on him. Loved him. She gave him everything, but anyone else could be in trouble. Everyone else could be in trouble.

  A slow smile formed, first in his gut, unraveling the tight knots, worked its way up his chest so that the constriction in his heart eased, and then made its way to his mouth, softening the hard line there. "I see you, baby. I see everything about you, and I get you."

  Her gaze moved over his face and the tension in her dissipated. She sent him a slow smile. "We've got this, Trap. I'm not saying it will be easy or that there won't be danger, but we've got this. You. Me. Together." She leaned into him. "Do you get what I'm saying now?"

  She took his breath away. Her exquisite loveliness. Her delicate vulnerability. Her absolute confidence. The fact that beneath the beauty was a weapon so lethal, her creators were terrified of her. She was fucking perfect, and she was his.

  "I get you, baby. Let's do this and go home so I can spend hours making love to you." He meant that. He liked fucking her. Rough. Hard. Tied down. On her knees. Any way. But he loved making love to her. Taking his time. Letting his body show her how he felt inside. How she could turn him inside out. How he worshipped the ground she walked on. How he worshipped her.

  Like I needed to hear that.

  Trap ignored the amusement in Wyatt's voice and took Cayenne's mouth one more time, watched her repair the gloss as if she'd been doing it her entire life and hadn't just learned a few short weeks earlier. He buzzed their driver and the man came around to open the door for them.

  Wyatt stepped out first. Paused there. Scouting. He stepped aside for Trap. Trap emerged next, allowing his gaze to sweep the crowd of spectators and reporters just as Wyatt had done, his body blocking Cayenne's while he did so. He took his time, waiting until Draden and Gino moved into position to guard her. Guard them.

  He stepped back and extended his hand to her. Cayenne took it as if she'd been born royalty. She'd been devouring every video clip of galas she could find, studying the women and how they acted. She observed how they dined formally or informally over and over. How they moved, talked, danced. Everything she could find that would help her. She learned fast, and now, as she took his hand and gracefully exited the limousine, he couldn't help but be proud of her.

  She didn't look scared or shy. She looked serene. She even tilted her face up and smiled at him as dozens of flashes went off. Only he saw how her gaze clung to his, drawing on his strength. He loved that. His little lethal warrior needed him. Not for saving her life, or kicking a man's butt, but just to get her through being in a very public situation. Again, no one else would know, only him. It was something she shared with him alone, that reluctance to be in a crowd.

  Every protective instinct he had came surging to the forefront. He tugged her to his side, watching the way her body moved beneath the dress. The designer was brilliant. He knew women and how material best draped on their bodies, how it came alive, moving with them, heightening their beauty. Her dress was a miracle of silken fabric, shimmering with every step she took, emphasizing her curves and the grace of her body as she moved in close and took his arm.

  Wyatt closed in on her other side. Gino stepped in front of them, leading the way toward the doors of the hotel where the fund-raiser was being held. Draden prowled behind them. Trap spotted Ryland at the double glass doors, just inside, looking handsome and casual in his tuxedo. Ryland brought five of his team members, including Gator, Wyatt's brother, to help with security. Nearly all of Trap's team was present. They'd left Diego and Rubin Campo, two members of their team, with the rest of Ryland's team to guard Pepper, the triplets and Nonny. None of them were taking chances.

  Wyatt and Trap, with Cayenne in between them, stopped at the VIP security line, the one set up for the scientists, to present their engraved invitation to the guard. He immediately allowed them through, nodding his head in deference to them.

  Ryland wandered through the large lobby parallel to them, his wife, Lily, on his arm. At the double doors to the ballroom, Trap spotted Gator and Flame talking together. Although he appeared completely involved in the conversation, Gator's gaze continually swept the entire area, noting everything and everyone in it. As Trap, Wyatt and Cayenne went through the elaborately carved doors into the ballroom, Gator and Flame fell in behind them.

  The moment Trap entered, he felt the tension, stretched like a thin wire in the room. One glance told him there were several supersoldiers inside, most covering the various exits. How many? He didn't care if they knew he spoke telepathically. They wouldn't hear what he was saying unless he wanted them to.

  Malichai answered. My count is seven inside the ballroom. He was positioned up above, on the long sweeping balcony overlooking the room.

  Nine, Ezekiel answered. I've got two more on the roof with rifles. He was outside the building, across the street. His job was to keep them alive while they moved in and out of the building.

  I've got one just inside the kitchen, Mordichai reported. He's trying to blend in with the catering staff. He's smaller than most of the soldiers but still stands out like a sore thumb. I also saw two setting up with the band earlier. They're roaming the
halls.

  Trap put his hand over Cayenne's as they moved through the crowd, Wyatt sticking to her other side, Gino clearing a path for them.

  So we know they've got twelve supersoldiers to supplement their regular security staff. That's interesting. Is Whitney here? Are you running facial recognition, Ryland? Joe Spagnola, Team Four leader, asked from his position on the balcony.

  Jeff is in the security room. He's doing that now, Ryland answered.

  Senator Smythe at six o'clock, Wyatt reported.

  You heading that way? Joe asked.

  She wants to talk to me, Trap said, she can come to me. I'm not her fucking servant.

  You're such a hard-ass, Joe murmured, amusement edging his tone.

  Cayenne's fingers curled on his arm. "She's using her voice." She nodded to where Violet was holding court, looking spectacular in her low-cut gown, her laughter tinkling like sweet-sounding bells. "Do you hear those notes? She's embedding a compulsion. You'll have to be careful, Trap."

  "Don't worry, baby, the only woman capable of ensnaring me is you. I've got something going on in my brain that prevents voice compulsion from working."

  "My voice. I don't try that hard with you," Cayenne corrected. When he raised an eyebrow at her, she shook her head. "I don't. Not even that first meeting. I was terrified and I wanted out of the cell, but you opened that cell of your own volition. No one had ever done anything for me before, not without wanting something huge in return. You didn't ask for anything."

  "I've got you to protect me, baby. We'll head away from her and see just how anxious she is to talk to me."

  Wyatt nodded his approval, and they moved away from Violet, who was surrounded by a group of about eight men. They headed toward the long tables of hors d'oeuvres. "Might as well eat while we got the chance," he added.

  Cayenne laughed. The moment she did, heads turned toward the sound. Trap noted that included the men circling Violet. Violet's eyes darkened, but she kept her smile, ever the consummate professional.

  Cayenne didn't seem to notice the attention. Trap didn't like the way the men were looking at her, already captivated by her.