Street Game (GhostWalkers #8)(12)
Author: Christine Feehan

Her heart leapt with joy in spite of her determination to keep her perspective. She was in danger any way she looked at it. She padded across the floor on bare feet to stand in front of them, determined to start out in a position of power and authority;

after all, this was her house and they weren’t invited. “Just how long do you both think you’re going to be staying here?” she demanded, pretending dismay at the pile of gear. With a bare toe, she touched a gun case. “It looks like a weapons dump in here. Is this really necessary?”

Kane moved around the heap of drab-colored duffel bags and gathered her into his arms. He wasn’t tall but he was a bear of a man, dwarfing her instantly. “Don’t you ever, ever pull something like this again, Jaimie. You left us without a word. And you know damn well we couldn’t follow you.”

Kane wasn’t a man to mince words, or to be afraid to face her wrath. The whole incident had been too damn traumatic for all of them and he didn’t want it repeated.

He hadn’t said a word in front of the others, but she was going to hear him—

especially after Mack had enlightened him about his conversation with her. She wasn’t disappearing from their lives a second time.

Jaimie thought he was going to break every rib she had. He was squeezing the breath out of her as he emphasized his words.

It was Mack who came to her rescue, gently pulling her from Kane’s grasp, a grin softening the hard edge of his mouth. “Don’t kill her, Kane. I know we discussed it, but didn’t we just decide on severe punishment?”

“Something like that. You look great, honey, too good to be out on your own without protection. What the hell was the frying pan for?”

Jaimie groaned in exasperation. “I’ve had the lecture, thank you very much.” She threw a little glare toward Mack. “I was safer without a gun. And don’t start in on my alarm system. I’m just testing various systems and I don’t expect anyone but the average burglar to break in.”

“Well, just look how wrong you can be.” Kane’s vivid green gaze was taking in the wide-open space. “Wow. Again I say wow.”

“Admiration, I hope.” Jaimie’s hands went to her hips. “Respectful admiration.

Mack didn’t give me any.”

“This place is out of sight.”

Mack rolled his eyes. “I should have known you’d be as dippy as she is. It’s a warehouse. Jaimie is living unprotected in a seamy part of town in a drafty old warehouse.” Mack indicated the far corner. “Take a look at that pint-sized bed.”

“Did you think you were going to take over my bed?” Jaimie demanded, her large eyes flashing a warning at him. He was not taking over her life or her bed.

“First order of business,” Kane said. “Tomorrow, Jaimie, we get a couple of decent beds in here. You have any beer?” He was already striding toward the refrigerator.

“Of course she doesn’t have any beer,” Mack scoffed. “She doesn’t drink. And where do you think you’re going? You can’t leave this stuff here.”

Kane was peering in the brand-new, very modern refrigerator. “Uh-oh, little Jaimie has some explaining to do.” He pulled out a bottle of Corona and popped off the top.

Mack’s eyebrows shot up. “Didn’t the doctors tell you not to drink alcohol, Jaimie?”

“Stop trying to sound like my father.”

She attempted to shove him, her hand flat on his heavily muscled chest, but shoving Mack never worked. He simply brought up his hand to cover hers, pressing her palm over his heart.

“You don’t have a father,” Kane reminded, swallowing half the bottle of beer in one gulp. “That’s our job.”

Jaimie tugged to get her hand free. She never discussed her past if she could help it, not even with the ones who had seen her through it all.

“And we’re good at it,” Mack pointed out smugly. His hand kept hers trapped against his chest. “Why would you have beer in the fridge?”

“Entertainment purposes, and stop ruffling my hair.” She ducked under Mack’s hand.

“You cut it.” Kane made it an accusation.

“It’s just the right length for ruffling,” Mack pointed out. “Entertaining who?”

“Whom,” Kane corrected, his head back in the refrigerator. He came out with a handful of turkey slices. “Thank God you’re over your vegetarian phase. I nearly starved.”

Mack hefted two bags over his shoulder and followed Jaimie across the carpeted floor to the bedroom wall. “Who’s she entertaining with beer?” he demanded. “Let’s get some answers here.”

“Stop harping.” Jaimie curled up on the bed, watching him stow the gear in the corner.

“It isn’t harping if I don’t get an answer.” Mack stood right in front of her, his dark, gleaming eyes on her face as he began to unbutton his shirt.

Jaimie couldn’t tear her gaze away from his hair-roughened chest, the hard, defined muscles, his flat six-pack belly. She swallowed hard as his hands went to the waistband of his jeans. “Don’t you dare take your clothes off in my bedroom, Mack.”

He flashed a taunting grin. “You don’t have an over-abundance of walls, little darlin’. Where exactly am I supposed to get undressed?”

“Well, not right here, for heaven’s sake.” Her long lashes fluttered in shock. “The bathroom would be much more appropriate.”

Kane found a deep, comfortable armchair and sat down with a second beer and a sandwich. “Get away from that innocent little thing, you oversexed lout,” he said mildly.

“Tell her to answer the question.” Mack didn’t take his glinting black gaze from her startling blue one as he dared her.

“I did answer your question. Go ahead and change in the bathroom.” Jaimie’s chin lifted belligerently.

“The other question, the important question. Who’s the beer for, Jaimie?”

Her fist thumped the pillow. “You’re going to make me crazy, Mack. All right.

It’s for my assistant, Joe Spagnola. Are you satisfied now?”

“Damn it, Jaimie,” Mack snapped, his eyes blazing.

Kane sat up straighter, a dark frown on his face.

“Well, I couldn’t do this alone,” Jaimie hastily defended. “There’s a lot of work and he’s been invaluable.”

Kane snorted derisively. “Invaluable.”