Ruthless Game (GhostWalkers #9)(18)
Author: Christine Feehan

“What do you think it all means?” She patted the bed beside her in invitation and moved to the far side of the mattress to give him room.

Sitting with her on a bed might not be the best of ideas. He wouldn’t be making any moves on her, not while she was so pregnant she looked like she might explode, but his body didn’t have the same sense his brain did. The moment he saw her or smelled her, every cell in his body went on alert.

“I’m not going to bite,” she said.

He realized he’d hesitated too long. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” Which was partially true.

“It isn’t like we haven’t shared a bed before,” she reminded.

Immediately the image of her writhing beneath him rose up to haunt him. His c**k reacted, hard and full and aching, desperate for the feel of her tight, hot sheath surrounding him. Cursing under his breath, he eased his body gingerly onto the bed, trying not to inhale and draw her scent into his lungs.

“Are you going to tell me what you think about Diego Jimenez?” she prompted.

“Tell me how you met him,” Kane said. “I need all the information to make any kind of judgment.” The soup tasted good. He hadn’t eaten for hours and realized he was very hungry. He nudged her with his shoulder. “Just try it, sweetheart.”

She surprised him by eating a few spoonfuls before she spoke. “I’d been moving, staying in the back country or in the mountains mostly. There were women willing to help me when they found out I was pregnant, but I knew I had to find a place Whitney wouldn’t be able to track me so easily to have the baby. I couldn’t take the chance of a doctor or midwife writing anything on paper. Whitney is searching for me; I know because he sent a couple of his goons on two occasions that I know of. I barely escaped both times.”

“How the hell did he find you?”

“I don’t know. I tried looking for a second tracking device. There was one in my hip, but I removed it myself. I got rid of all my clothes, everything I had previously owned, but he always seems to be breathing down my neck.” She looked at him. “I promised you I would take care of the baby and keep her out of Whitney’s hands, and I mean to keep that promise.”

“Why the hell did you pull a gun on me, Rose? You knew I helped you escape. You knew I turned him in. I risked my career and my life to try to get his ugly program dragged into the light of day.”

She took a couple more spoonfuls of soup, her gaze downcast, but he felt her stiffen, as if steadying herself to tell him the truth. “I was afraid. I knew you trusted your team; I could tell by the way you worked with them, that easy camaraderie that only comes when people have relied on one another through dangerous situations. You told me to get on the helicopter, but you weren’t getting on with me. You would have sent me away.”

“Where you would have been safe and had medical attention,” he reminded. He could tell she found it difficult to admit that she was afraid.

She bent her head again, and he couldn’t help but look at the vulnerable nape of her neck. He had the sudden urge to lean over and brush his mouth over that soft spot.

“I needed you, Kane, not your friends. They aren’t my friends. They aren’t people I trust. I’ve lived too long in captivity and I’ve had a taste of freedom. I won’t let our child live like I had to, with Whitney documenting every single moment of my life and dictating what I could and couldn’t do.”

“I understand.” And damn it all, he did. She’d been trained to be a soldier, experimented on, and then shoved into a breeding program. It was a monstrous life she’d led, and had it been him, he would have done anything to get free and stay that way. “Tell me about Jimenez.”

She flashed a brief, rather wan smile. “I’m getting there in my own roundabout way. I knew I had to find a safe place to have the baby, and just in case, learn how to deliver it myself.”

“You f**king have to be kidding me, Rose,” he burst out. “You make me crazy. You really do. Both of you could die, don’t you know that?”

“Of course I know it,” she said. “I’m not crazy and I’m not stupid. I’m careful, Kane. I studied hard. I was careful to learn about pregnancy and what I needed to make the baby healthy.”

“You didn’t have a blood test, or any of the tests, did you?”

“How could I?” she defended. She sounded close to tears. “I did the best I could for her. Better both of us dead than back with Whitney.”

Kane put the empty soup bowl down and slipped his arm around her shoulder. “I know you did. It’s just the thought of you out there alone, trying to figure it all out by yourself, when I should have been there with you, makes me want to shoot somebody.”

She leaned into him. “Preferably not me.”

He laughed at her choice of words. “Not you, sweetheart. You might make me want to pull out every hair on my head, but I’d never hurt you.”

Rose studied Kane’s face—that face she dreamt about for eight long months. His beautiful, masculine carved features and his vivid piercing green eyes took her breath away. She couldn’t look too long at him, afraid he’d see her reaction. From the window of her cell and the workout yard, she’d watched him just like a stalker might. Looking had turned into longing. He was a strong, confident male, definitely one who was skilled in his chosen profession. She watched other males, all strong as well, step back when he walked through a small crowd, yet he always seemed to treat everyone fairly. She loved everything about him from his wide shoulders to the strong lines in his face and his sudden, heart-stopping smile.

She had dreamt of him long before she betrayed him. Wanting him. Building fantasies and unrealistic dreams until she became almost obsessed with him. When Whitney insisted on bringing in those horrible men with their lecherous smiles, uncaring that she didn’t want them, men willing to force her, she’d become a desperate woman who would do anything to escape. A woman who would sell another human being into a living hell to gain her own freedom. She swallowed hard and looked away, ashamed of her need and her cowardice. She sold him out, and even now, she couldn’t let him go.

“Rose, what is it?”

His voice was so gentle it turned her heart over. She felt his baby kick inside her, a strong reminder she would always have a part of him. The soup tasted like ashes now, the seeds of guilt and shame stripping her of all appetite. She placed the bowl on the nightstand. He was a man of honor, and she’d taken his pride, forced him into an untenable position with no way out. He loathed himself for getting her pregnant, and no matter how many times she told him it had been her choice, her decision, he refused to allow her to shoulder the blame. He was waiting patiently for her to answer his simple question—“What is it?”—but the answer wasn’t nearly as simple as the question.