Ruthless Game (GhostWalkers #9)(3)
Author: Christine Feehan

One man on the roof. He’s got a bottle of tequila and an automatic. Great combo. Ethan’s disgust was obvious.

More time ticked by. Rose would be packed by now. She would travel light. Just the bare necessities. Kane tasted bitterness in his mouth, but his eyes continued a sweep up and down the buildings and along the street. His first order of business was to protect Ethan.

All clear. Ethan’s voice was calm. Launch “the Eagle.”

Gideon sprinted across the sand to the edge of the building and then into the alley. He clapped Kane on the shoulder, pausing to take stock of the dark streets. Figures moved in doorways, and two men stopped briefly to talk in low voices as they patrolled. A couple of women sat on a porch, silently watching, and down at the end of the street, five teenage boys laughed and prodded one another as they practiced throwing knives.

Gideon put on blurring speed and crossed the empty street to the side of the building. He didn’t have Ethan’s advantage, climbing easily with only his hands and toes, but Ethan had left behind a stairway made of throwing stars. Gideon moved up fast in the dark, his sniper rifle snug against his back as he raced up the side of the building.

They all could breathe a sigh of relief once Gideon was in place. The man just didn’t miss. They all called him the Eagle for a reason. Gideon would cover the streets and windows, as Ethan and Mack would enter the building and bring out the prisoners. Kane would cover them from inside, and Javier would be on the street. They were all fast and lethal when need be, but in a situation such as this one, it was very difficult to distinguish between residents and those cooperating with the enemy, unless they blatantly carried a weapon.

You’re a go, Ethan said. We’ve got you covered.

Everything in Kane settled. He turned his attention once more to Rose’s apartment, sweeping it carefully, bouncing sound waves through the building to see inside. She stood by the front door, and there was a weapon in her hand.

He took a deep breath to steady himself while his body reacted to the sensors processing the images before retreating from the alley to jog around the buildings to come up on her building from the same side of the street. Mack joined him, easily keeping the fast pace.

We’ll need you on this one, Kane.

Kane shot Mack a quick look of impatience. I’ve never let you down. Give me a few minutes to get her ready to leave with us.

Mack nodded and crouched in the shadow of the building. Gideon? You in position? Kane is going in. She’s armed.

Don’t you shoot her! Mack, you son of a bitch. Nobody better shoot her. There was warning in Kane’s voice. He was a dangerous, explosive man, capable of swift retribution. They had grown up with him. They knew him. His tone said it all. He expected them to back off and allow him to handle Rose—even if she tried to kill him, which he figured was entirely probable.

Kane took a deep breath and moved around to the window opening onto a small side yard. He could see why Rose chose this apartment. She had alternative escape routes. He didn’t make the mistake of stepping up to the window. Rose was a highly trained GhostWalker. She had survival skills. She was expecting him to come through the front door, a representative of the unit she’d called in to rescue important prisoners the drug cartel was using as hostages against el presidente.

It took a few minutes to spot the small shards of glass scattered in the dirt and leaves. He cleared the area meticulously, knowing the sound of breaking glass would alert her instantly. Like most of the GhostWalkers, her hearing was enhanced as well as her vision. Her window wouldn’t be nailed shut because she would need a quick escape, but she would have it rigged for visitors. It opened sideways, rather than up, a turn knob on the inside.

Clever girl, he mused silently. He pulled a mini laser cutter from his tool kit and, after attaching the suction cup, carefully cut the glass. The suction cup was silent, drawing out the circle of glass without a sound. He reached in and slowly greased the knob to ensure continued silence. Only then did he twist the knob enough to crack the window. Tiny pieces of glass clung to the edges of the sill as the window slowly opened.

Kane smiled to himself. Yeah. His woman knew how to take care of herself. He reached through the opening, avoiding the glass, and opened it wide enough to allow him entrance. Again he waited until he had found the small strobe trigger before easing his large body through the opening. It was no easy feat, not with the glass sticking out.

As he stepped down silently onto the floor, he projected the sound of slow, deliberate footsteps coming up the sidewalk to the front of her apartment. He muffled his own tread, moving through the sparse room to the open doorway. A small pack was on a chair just to the left of her where she could grab it and run should the wrong person come through the door. Rose had her back to him. She was shorter than he remembered. Her body from the back didn’t look pregnant. His heart thudded once at the thought that she might have lost the baby.

She wore jeans and a long tunic top. Her hair was cut short and sassy, a thick cap of shiny, midnight black hair. The memory of the feel of it, soft like silk, bunched in his fist, washed over him, stealing his breath. For a moment, the sight of her shook him.

He inhaled deeply in an effort to drag the fragrance of her deep into his lungs. He could actually feel her soft skin sliding against his, taste her in his mouth. Rose. He would never forget the way she looked up at him with her enormous eyes, so dark brown there was no gold whatsoever in them. Long lashes, black as night, framed those deep chocolate eyes, and she had stared straight into his eyes without flinching away, absolving him of all blame, but damn it all, she’d had no choice. None.

Kane drew another breath as he shoved the memory away ruthlessly. He was a big man, dwarfing her in size, all flowing muscle, his height proportionate with his weight and not an ounce of fat. He loomed over her, nothing more than a shadow, his arms coming around her from behind to take her weapon, and in one smooth motion, he tossed it on the broken-down couch. She tried to whirl around, going for his instep, but his arms became a steel cage, trapping her. His hands settled over her midsection and shockingly, she was round, like a basketball. His heart, after one heavy thump, settled into a satisfied rhythm.

“Shh, Rose,” he said gently, trying to breathe calm into her. Her breathing had gone ragged. “There’s a gun trained on you. Don’t pull another weapon. Just stay still.”

Under the palm of his hand, he felt the small rounded belly and a peculiar push as if the baby kicked him, trying to protect his mother. The sheer relief and satisfaction that she carried his child shocked him a little. “No one is going to hurt you.” And they wouldn’t, not ever again. She carried his baby, and no matter what else, the child would always connect them.