Deadly Game (GhostWalkers #5)(27)
Author: Christine Feehan

“The point is, I wasn’t thinking about her—I was thinking about my own feelings, and they weren’t exactly noble. And I wanted to be inside of her, driving any memory of him out of her.” There was shame in his voice.

“Ken,” Jack said, keeping his voice low, “we’re both different. We have to be careful, but it doesn’t make us like him. So we’re a little more dominant . . .”

Ken snorted. “A little?”

“And a little more jealous than the average man . . .”

“A little?” Ken repeated. “Hell, Jack, Briony’s too sweet and lets you get away with going all badass on her; she thinks you’re cute or something. Who knows what goes through her head. And you don’t lose your mind when she’s around other men.”

“It disturbs me,” Jack admitted. “I handle it.”

“And what if you couldn’t? What would that eventually do to your relationship with Briony? How do you think it would make her feel every time some man smiled and you were instantly angry?”

“I’d have the good sense to keep it to myself. I trust her. You don’t even know this woman, Ken. She doesn’t love you; you don’t love her. Why do you expect to be able to handle something like jealousy when you haven’t even built a relationship with her yet? If you trusted her, and loved her, it would be different.”

Ken shook his head. “Logan’s here. Let’s keep them away from her. We had to ditch her clothes, and the thought of any of the others seeing her na**d is enough to set me off. I had a difficult enough time with the doc.”

For the first time, Jack’s expression was leery, as if it might be sinking in that Ken was telling the absolute truth—that his possessive, dominant nature might be too strong to control, as he feared.

“We’ll handle it,” Jack said. “We’ll do it the way we always do.” He indicated the gurney. “Let’s get out of here.”

Ken lifted his end, but hesitated. “If you had walked out into the backyard first and saw mom dead, and him standing there smiling, covered in her blood, would you have gone after him, or done the sane thing and left?”

Jack sighed. “It was a long time ago, Ken. I saw him beating you; he broke both your arms, and I went after him. I don’t know what I would have done had I found him with Mom. Probably exactly what you did. I’m the ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ kind, remember? You’re out front keeping everyone from bothering me, keeping them safe. You aren’t our father, Ken, and you’ll never convince me you’re like he was.”

Logan Maxwell, leader of the SEAL GhostWalker team, was riding shotgun and Neil Campbell was driving. Logan opened the doors and stepped back to allow the Nortons to shift the gurney into the Escalade. Ken and Jack climbed in beside Mari, Ken tucking the sheet around her carefully so that no skin showed.

He reached for the medical kit beside Jack’s feet. “I’m going to give her another painkiller while she’s out. Drugs don’t stay with her long, but it will give her some relief on the ride. She’d probably try to take me out if I gave her a shot while she was conscious.”

“She’s been giving you a hard time?” Logan asked. “She looks on the small side. I thought you two could handle it all by yourselves, but no worries, Daddy is here now.” He grinned at Ken, studiously avoiding looking at Jack.

Ken always found it amusing that Jack made everyone, even his fellow GhostWalkers, nervous and Ken was considered friendly. He’d cultivated the image carefully, hiding what he was behind a ready smile and a joke. It eased the way for Jack’s more abrasive personality and kept them out of fights—fights Ken knew would turn deadly the moment anyone threatened Jack. While there were plenty of people who should be scared of Jack, it wasn’t Jack they should have feared the most. Jack had tremendous control and discipline, but Ken would never hesitate to destroy any threat to Jack. He would do it fast, viciously, and without remorse—and that inner knowledge kept the smile firmly in place and the jokes coming, because no matter what, Jack would back him, just as he had so many years earlier.

Jack always thought that, after discovering their parents, Ken’s tears had been from both grief and the pain of two broken arms, but it had been grief for his mother and the terrible knowledge that he had put his twin in the position of having to kill their father. Years later, when he had been tortured by Ekabela’s men, Ken had known Jack would come for him. Dead or alive, Jack would come and Ken chose to stay alive to keep Jack from single-handedly trying to wipe out the rebels in the Congo. Ken had always felt responsible for his brother. He knew Jack’s personality, the demons that drove him, and he would always feel responsible for bringing out the worst in his brother.

After injecting Mari with the painkiller, he passed a hand over his face. They’d stripped her of her clothing and her dignity. How could she forgive that? He knew what it was like to be stripped, the fear that accompanied the complete vulnerability a prisoner felt. His fingers tangled in her hair, stroking the strands under cover of darkness. He needed to touch her—needed to be close to her—and that was so dangerous to both of them. He’d worked his entire life to stay ahead of the monster and in one brief moment she had brought it roaring to life, all claws and teeth, raking at his gut and his mind.

He’d known the moment he’d inhaled her scent, taken her deep into his lungs, that he had been paired with her by Whitney. Anger had been his first reaction, anger that he could have so easily been made a victim, but then, when Jack had stepped close to her, he felt the sharp knife of jealousy, as ugly and as dangerous as anything his father had ever displayed. It had been a vicious reaction, knotting his guts, sweeping a black, swirling haze through his mind until he could taste it in his mouth. The need for violence had nearly overwhelmed him. And then he’d been afraid—more afraid then when Ekabela’s men had stripped him naked, laid him out spread-eagled, and begun their slow, meticulous work on his body.

His mouth went dry just thinking about how he’d wanted to wrap his fingers around Jack’s neck to keep him away from Mari when she’d looked at his face—his perfect face. Ken scrubbed a hand over the mask, feeling the ridges and the shiny skin, the edge to his lip. Funny how he’d never really minded before. He’d had pangs, of course, but for the most part he accepted what had been done to his body the way he accepted everything in his life. It was a fact, and one dealt with it. Besides, his face was nothing compared to the damage done to his dick. He closed his eyes briefly, remembering how they cut closer and closer and the bile had risen and the fear—the terrifying moment when they were finally there and made that first gut-wrenching cut.