Deadly Game (GhostWalkers #5)(22)
Author: Christine Feehan

“He thinks he knows you, just like he thought he knew me. I still have Briony. And I’m fine with her. You see us together; I might get a little jealous now and then, but I’m not like him and you aren’t either.”

Mari looked from one to the other. “Who is him? You’re no longer talking about Whitney.”

“I am,” Ken said to Jack. His voice was a low, soft whisper of sound, but the impact it carried was lethal. “I am exactly like him.”

“That isn’t true, Ken,” Jack denied.

“The hell it isn’t,” Ken snapped. “Do you know what I wanted to do to her when I knew another man had been inside of her? Touching her? Hell, Jack. I don’t even know her. I don’t know the first thing about her. I’m not in love. She’s not in love with me; how could she be? But it didn’t matter. I wanted to pound into her, make her forget anyone else, punish her for daring—daring—to allow another man to touch her that way. I wasn’t gentle with her; I didn’t want to be. I wanted her to know who she was with.”

Jack hit the back of his head against the doorjamb. “This is insane.”

“I’ve always known he was alive, living in me. I’ve always known it. And that son of a bitch Whitney knew it too. He wants to see what will happen to us. How his little game will destroy our family. Fast. Slow. A big explosion, a quiet bullet to the head. He’s just sitting back and watching us, Jack. The bastard is wired to us some way. He wants to force the issue to see if you’re up to the job of putting a bullet in me.”

“And what good will that do him?” Jack asked.

“He wants to see what it does to Briony, to see if both of you are strong enough and worthy enough for your kids to be his supersoldiers. Mari is expendable to him; she always has been. Why do you think he tried to get a baby out of her by someone else? He didn’t want his work to be a total loss.”

Mari turned her head away from both of them. She could hear the anguish in Ken’s voice, and it ripped her up inside. He didn’t love her. How could he? She didn’t know whatever was in Ken and Jack’s past, but she heard the ring of truth in Ken’s voice and things were making sense. Whitney detested her because he couldn’t control her very well. He had to use threats against the other women to keep her in line. And she was strong, always a threat to him and his programs. She asked too many questions. Whitney had been furious when Brett was unable to get her pregnant.

She tried to separate herself from what he was saying. It was all happening to someone else. A woman she didn’t know. She was a soldier and needed to get back to her unit. It’s where she belonged—what she understood. She wasn’t the type to lie helpless, tears burning in her eyes, while a man used her body, but she’d done just that, helpless to resist Ken’s mouth and hands.

With Brett, it was a fight every single time he came near her. She was committed to defending herself and her right as a person to choose whom she wanted to be with. With Ken, she desperately needed him near. Every moment she spent in his company worsened the addiction to him, until she felt frantic with wanting his touch.

“Could Whitney do that?” she asked, searching her memory for an unguarded moment he might have let something slip. “What’s your last name?”

“Norton.” It was Jack who answered, his eyes still locked on his brother.

Again her heart jumped. She recognized the name and she should have known. Snipers. Not just any snipers. The elite.

Ken wiped the blood from her leg, all the while avoiding touching her skin. Pride should have kept her from looking, but she was fascinated by the way his body moved, by the glide of his hands, always so careful to keep from contact. The memory came out of nowhere, triggered by the mesmerizing ripple of muscle beneath skin. Whitney’s face contorted with anger.

Damn the Nortons anyway. How did you let them slip away from you, Sean? I made it easy and you still blew it.

It won’t happen again, Doctor.

Sean had been standing close to her while Whitney jabbed her with a needle right before one of their missions. She remembered the surreptitious brush of his hand to encourage her. She’d always hated needles, and only Sean had known that little weakness.

Ken stiffened, his fingers circling her foot like a vise. “Who is he?”

Mari blinked, glanced at Jack and back to Ken. “I don’t know what you’re asking me. And you’re hurting me.”

Ken let go of her as if she’d burned him, wiping his palm along his thigh. “The man you were just thinking about. I caught the impression of him. Big man, standing by Whitney. You like him.”

“You caught all that just by touching me?”

“Damn it, answer me,” Ken ordered.

“Ken, back off,” Jack warned.

“You had your chance, Jack.” Ken shot him a hard glare. “Now we all have to live with the consequences.”

Mari laid her head on the blanket stuffed under her head, her eyes narrowing on his face, lending her a kind of tunnel vision. She recognized the familiar signs of her temper kicking in. “Wait a minute. I have a horrible feeling I’m beginning to understand what’s going on here. Call me slow, but for some reason, although you’re men, I expected you to act with intelligence.”

“Mari . . .”

“You don’t know me well enough to use my name. You don’t know the first thing about me or my life. I’m your prisoner, remember? You shot me.” Her voice was tinged with fury, so she kept it ultra-low, but it was too late to rein her temper in. She was already looking for something to smash over his head. “Don’t you dare Mari me. I don’t care if I have a broken leg. If you want to torture me, get on with it, but I’ll be damned if you sit there being smug and acting like a jealous lover because of Brett. Brett, of all people. That’s what set you off. I get it now. The ‘did he touch you like this’ and then losing your mind. What a complete ass.”

“Mari . . .”

“What a moron. Don’t talk to me. Don’t touch my leg.” Adrenaline poured through her body, so that she found herself shaking. “Do you have any idea what that man is like? What it’s like for a woman to have someone who repulses her touch her? Go to hell, Ken. Next time you want to put a gun to your head, I’ll help you pull the trigger.”

“You don’t understand,” Jack said.

“Are you kidding me? I’m the one who has to endure Brett—or anyone else—at Whitney’s whim. Not you, not Ken. And catching a glimpse of a soldier who has treated me with decency and respect—one I admire—is cause for jealousy as well?”