Ruthless Game (GhostWalkers #9)(12)
Author: Christine Feehan

“Give me a minute,” she gasped.

Pain didn’t show on her face, but it was there in her eyes. And fear. She was very frightened. He smoothed back her hair. “Don’t be afraid, Rose. I’m not going to let anything happen to you or the baby.”

She swallowed hard and let out her breath. “I’m counting on that.”

He could feel the tension ebbing out of her. Grateful that she was beginning to trust him a little, he swept his arm around her shoulders to help ease her into a sitting position.

She managed a small smile. “I think I should have thought that particular part of the plan through a little better.” She looked around her. “We’ve got to get moving. I’m hoping we can disturb the sand enough to cover our tracks, and they’ll think we went into the ravine with the car.”

Kane looked around him. Sand stretched out for miles. “This could be bad, Rose. The farther we get away from the city, the more chances are we’ll get caught out in the open.”

“Not if you know where you’re going.”

He sighed and reached down to help her to her feet. She swayed unsteadily and clung to him. That small show of fragility shook him. Rose was such a mixture both ultra-feminine and ultrasoldier. She didn’t flinch from combat, yet she leaned into him, so soft and vulnerable, his heart ached.

“Enlighten me.” He sounded gruff, but she’d twisted his insides up, and he wasn’t certain how to react to her. He damn well wasn’t going to force himself on her ever again, but just being close to her made him feel different inside.

She moved, a soft, subtle, very feminine retreat. He felt something hard press against his chest, right over his heart, and he stiffened, glancing down at the barrel of the gun and the absolute steadiness in her small hand. His gaze jumped to hers. Her eyes stared without blinking, no hesitation. The woman meant business. So much for soft and feminine. Fury burst through him, but he didn’t move, didn’t show her anything at all.

“Throw it away, Kane. You’re either with me or against me. If you’re with me, throw the tracker into the ravine.”

There was nothing sweet about her voice. He considered wrapping his long fingers around her neck and strangling her right there.

“If I throw the tracker into the ravine, we have no resources—no backup. They’ll come get us in a few days. We just have to lay low.”

She still didn’t blink. “This child is never going to fall into Whitney’s hands. Not ever. I need help, Kane, and I’m willing to trust you, but only you. You have to make a decision.”

Fury knotted the muscles in his belly. Anyone who knew him would have been alarmed by his calm demeanor and the cool, flat look in his eyes. “What are you going to do, Rose? Shoot me?” His voice dropped lower than ever, softer, even more deceptive. “You’re going to shoot the father of your child?”

She blinked. He slapped the gun away, turning sideways to present a smaller target. His fingers closed in a brutal grip around her wrist and he twisted, dropping her to her knees, extracting the gun from her fist and holding her locked in position. With one hand he engaged the safety and shoved the gun into his belt.

“You ever point a gun at me again, Rose, pull the f**king trigger. Do we understand each other?” He chose not to look at the pain on her face or the tears swimming, turning those dark eyes to soft, melting chocolate. He didn’t let up on the pressure on her wrist. If she moved, it would break. They both knew it. “You don’t know me, Rose. You just think you do. I’m not the sweet, malleable man you took me for. You aren’t going to manipulate me.”

She swallowed and blinked rapidly in an effort to dispel the tears. “Let me up.”

“Are you going to try to stick a knife in me next?”

“If you don’t let go, I’ll most likely consider it.”

He eased the pressure on her wrist, allowing her to get to her feet, but he was much more careful, not trusting her now. She pulled away from him and put both hands protectively on her swollen belly. She was trembling, but her eyes met his steadily, even defiantly. They stared at one another.

“We don’t have all night,” he reminded.

“No, we don’t. But I’m not moving until you throw away the tracker. I’m more scared of Whitney getting my baby than I am of a drug cartel. I’ll go down fighting, Kane.”

He clenched his teeth. Damn, she was stubborn. He could tell by the set of her jaw, her raised chin, and the flash of fire in her eyes that she wasn’t bluffing. She planned on staying right where she was..

“You are aware these people like to chop off heads.” That should make any woman reasonable, let alone a pregnant one.

“I’ve seen them do it. It’s not a pretty sight,” she answered, her chin raising a notch.

Okay. Maybe pregnant women weren’t reasonable. It wasn’t like he’d ever been around a woman about to give birth. It could be they were all nuts. And every good sense he had was flying out the window. He should have put her over his knee and taught her a lesson, especially after she had the audacity to pull a gun on him, but instead, he wanted to kiss that little chin.

“Rose.” He used his most logical and sensible tone. “If I toss the tracker, and something goes wrong, we aren’t going to have a ride out of here.”

“I’m used to relying on myself. Don’t worry, if you’re afraid, I can take care of both of us. I know you surround yourself with that big, bad team …”

She broke off when he took a step toward her, the taunting laughter fading from her eyes. He noted one hand had slipped inside her jacket, fingers curling around the hilt of her knife.

“Don’t piss me off any more than you already have,” he snapped and ripped the tracker out of the lining of his shirt. He threw his lifeline into the ravine. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

“There’s none inside your body?”

He gave her his blackest scowl, and this time, he really was on the edge of losing his temper. “You’ll just have to trust me.”

She had the grace to look ashamed. Rose turned and walked out into the night, head up, body confident. They were walking away from any road he could see. He followed without comment until he reached the top of the first rolling dune. Turning back, he raised his hand to the sky. It was incredibly difficult to move air when there was little breeze to “push,” but he’d done it a time or two. Rose had remembered from their conversations in her small prison room.