Murder Game (GhostWalkers #7)(44)
Author: Christine Feehan

“Everything is right, baby. I just wasn’t ready for the way I feel about you, but I’m getting there.” He’d accepted that she was his world. That didn’t mean he was comfortable with it yet.

Chapter 9

Ryland Miller wasn’t at all what Tansy had expected. He was definitely a force to be reckoned with, tough and scarred and built like a fighter. His steel gray eyes seemed to look right through her, his dark hair spilled in unruly waves over his forehead, but his smile was kind. She had emerged from a shower, dressed, little makeup, hair still damp, to find Ryland sitting comfortably with Kadan.

Kadan glanced up, and something in his energy chilled her at first, but then he smiled and got to his feet, and she immediately felt a shift inside of her, a melting. Kadan took her hand and tugged until she was beneath his shoulder, one hand sliding possessively around the nape of her neck while he performed introductions. Ryland’s expression went from speculative to knowing, and she had to fight to keep from blushing.

“Ryland is married to Lily Whitney. They just had their first child,” Kadan said.

Tansy struggled to keep her face from showing anything but polite interest. She still found it difficult to believe that a friend of Kadan’s could be married to Whitney’s daughter. She glanced at Kadan, but as always, his expression gave little away.

You can trust him.

Kadan’s expression might be remote, but his warmth poured into her mind. She managed to keep smiling and nod at the introductions, keeping her gloved hands behind her back. She detested wearing the gloves now that she’d had months in the mountains and her brief time with Kadan without them. It was as if she’d gone from freedom back to prison, although even to her that seemed a melodramatic analogy. She couldn’t help it. Her fingers felt tight and confined, itching to get out of the cramped quarters.

Three men waited in the living room, all coming to their feet when she entered. Ryland Miller might not look like a man who could be trusted; in fact, he looked like a man of few words but long on action, yet there was a steadiness in him that appealed to her. She could feel respect and even a certain friendship in Kadan’s mind for the man. It would take a strong man to marry Whitney’s daughter. Kadan was blocking a good deal of the energy, but he was allowing enough to slip through, and she recognized that Ryland was a psychic talent as well.

“This disreputable scoundrel is Raoul ‘Gator’ Fontenot. He’s going to try to steal you away from me with his charm.”

Gator grinned boyishly. “Ma’am, I got me a mean little hellcat at home and she’d have my head if she thought I was flirtin’,” he drawled in his Cajun accent and winked at her, declaring her safe even though his smile could and probably did melt hearts.

“Is Gator some kind of nickname?”

“Yes, ma’am. In the Special Forces we often give each other appropriate handles. Kadan is ‘Bishop.’ Rye there is ‘King,’ and Sam, one of our team members, is ‘Knight.’ ” Gator grinned at her, his drawling voice like molasses on a Sunday. “I don’ play boring chess, honey, but I wrestle alligators.”

Kadan pinned his friend with a steely-eyed stare. “You keep flirting with her and you’ll be wrestling with Flame. That woman is the only person who may be meaner than me.”

Tansy sent Kadan a sharp glance. As a rule he could read people’s minds. It was fairly clear that Gator might flirt, but he was definitely a one-woman man.

Yes, he is, Kadan agreed, but it’s good for them to know the score.

His hand slid from the nape of her neck to her shoulder, his fingers brushing her neck, small, caressing strokes that were featherlight, but she felt them all the way to her toes.

Tough guy. She did the equivalent of mind eye-rolling, not wanting to show that even that light touch could affect her the way it did. Shivers of awareness raised goose bumps on her skin and down her spine.

Kadan merely shrugged, his hard expression and cold eyes saying it all to his friends.

Gator’s unrepentant grin widened, flashing white teeth. “Flame’s the better half of me and she sure keeps my life interestin.”

Tansy’s mind was racing with the idea of themes and nicknames in the Special Forces. Each ivory game piece had been carved obviously for a specific killer. If they were military and GhostWalkers, it couldn’t be that difficult to track down their handles. There just weren’t that many GhostWalkers, if what Kadan said was the truth. Wouldn’t it be a matter of just going through the teams and finding out what they call one another?

She glanced toward the dining room. She could just glimpse the long table from the arched doorway leading to it. There were no figurines left out. All evidence was back in the war room, and she would bet her last dollar that the door was securely locked.

There is no way my teams are in any way responsible, and I would have recognized the names. I’ve worked with all the members of both teams. No, this is an outside team, run by Whitney or someone else. They’re connected to Whitney; there was no doubt in my mind before you ever found the puppet master with Whitney’s taint on him.

Tansy let her breath out slowly. Whitney hadn’t been content with working on a few men; he’d given enhancements to others, and obviously their psychological profiles hadn’t shown they were dangerous, or maybe it was because they were that he had chosen them. And that was very, very scary. She turned her head and looked at Kadan.

You knew. All along, you knew.

He didn’t look at her, but his mind brushed against hers. I suspected. I know these men and the others on my team. They are capable of killing, but not murder for pleasure. These killers are doing it for fun. It’s literally a game to them.

“Kadan,” the third man spoke. His voice was quiet, but it drew attention immediately. “If you have something to share about all this, do it. I’ve been traveling nonstop and I want to get home and see Dahlia. I don’t like being away from her for too long.”

It was obvious the man was aware that Kadan and Tansy were speaking telepathically. She looked him over. He had that same stillness in him that Kadan did. He was tall, with longer midnight black hair, bronze skin, and truly black eyes. Where Kadan’s eyes were so blue they could appear black, this man had eyes the color of obsidian.

“Nicolas Trevane,” Kadan introduced. “Sorry, Nico, we’re still sorting things out. Tansy’s parents have been taken hostage. I think Whitney is involved, and that he has a GhostWalker present at the house with the captives. They want Tansy to turn herself over to them or they plan on killing her parents. She had twenty-four hours. Eight of those are gone.”