Street Game (GhostWalkers #8)(21)
Author: Christine Feehan

They thought she was stubborn, and maybe she’d become stubborn, sick of what they wanted from her.

She closed her eyes, inhaled to clear her mind and let go, seeking outside of herself to find those hunting her. She felt the ocean first, the surge of power that connected with her almost immediately, heightening her senses and expanding her range. She felt the two men moving around the corner of her warehouse, staying low as they carefully examined the building for weaknesses in security.

She felt their heartbeats, the adrenaline in their systems. She felt the breath moving through their bodies. Anger. Fear. Puzzlement. She could almost read their thoughts, but the body chemistry was enough to know they were enemies. She forced herself past them to encompass the street and buildings running alongside her warehouse.

A man huddled on the steps of the building to the right of her. His mind was a haze, a blur of no thinking, just shivering. He was cold and wanted more alcohol, but was oblivious to anyone else. Up the street a group of a four partied together. Drugs raced through their systems, not adrenaline. She examined the rooftops. She knew Gideon was up there somewhere along with the one they called Superman, yet she couldn’t find either of them.

She opened her eyes and looked at Mack. “I don’t know how long I’ve been under surveillance. He has to be a GhostWalker. I can’t detect Gideon either.”

“But you can detect both of us?” Mack asked.

She nodded. “And the two outside moving around the first floor, looking for a way in.”

“But not Gideon or the other man?”

She shook her head. “That’s never happened before, Mack. Not once. Not in all the times I trained. What’s different about Gideon?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t want you saying anything. We’ll need to protect that information. Don’t document it,” Mack cautioned.

She crawled away from the window to the center of the room where her furniture was. “Because you know they’d dissect him to see if they could make you all that way.”

“The mysterious ‘they’ again,” Mack said. “You use ‘they’ and ‘you’ a lot. You’re a GhostWalker too, Jaimie. You gave your consent just like the rest of us. And not everyone in the program is corrupt.”

She sank into a chair across from Kane. “I know that, Mack. I just despise the entire mess. Whitney’s given some people cancer. He’s hurt them in order to see if he could speed the healing process. He’s so far out of control and someone knows it.

More than one someone, yet they protect him. They want his research and we’re all expendable to protect it. And we have foreign governments wanting one of us to dissect so they can build the same kind of soldier. Do you think any of us are going to have a life if we don’t get out now?”

Kane slipped his gun back beneath his sleeping bag, knowing Jaimie hated the weapon. “We’re going to be fine as long as we stick together, Jaimie.”

Her eyes met his. There was despair there. She was too intelligent to be reassured like a child and they both knew it. She had logged in hundreds of hours going over Whitney’s experiment. It read like a horror story. Her temples throbbed with pain, an aftermath of using psychic ability. It helped with Mack and Kane in the room, but still, the pain made her stomach lurch.

She didn’t want to think about all the children Whitney had conducted his experiments on. The adults had been bad enough, but she knew there had been children involved. The man was still out there, on the loose, condoned and aided by a group of power-hungry men who believed themselves above the law. The men in GhostWalker Team Three were all members of her family. No, they weren’t bound by blood, but they’d chosen years ago to band together and make it through life together.

Now they were all in jeopardy.

“I can’t save them,” she said aloud, and then was horrified that she’d spoken without thinking.

She could no longer trust either Mack or Kane. They had embraced their new bodies and minds and they believed they could make a huge difference. They were honorable men and they fought for what they believed. She was no longer part of that circle. No matter how familiar, no matter how much she loved them, she had to remember she wasn’t part of what they were doing and if orders came down regarding her—both men would follow those orders.

As if reading her mind, Mack sank into the chair beside hers and reached out to take her hand. “We’re here in San Francisco hunting this shipment of weapons and the men who are going to buy them. It’s our one chance to get at the Doomsday unit.

They happen to be in the same neighborhood you’re living in. Whatever that means.

However it happened. Someone is threatening you. Let’s just call a truce until we remove the threat and I have my terrorists in custody.”

“You don’t take them into custody, Mack,” she pointed out. “You assassinate them.”

“I do whatever it takes. And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you alive, Jaimie.

Whatever is going on here is not of my making. You wanted out. I was hoping you would get out and make a life for yourself.”

He had hoped she’d come back to him and tell him she was missing him every single minute of every single day—that she couldn’t breathe without him. That hadn’t happened. It didn’t look like it was going to happen anytime soon.

“We’re a family,” Kane added. “We’d never leave you until we knew the threat to you was past. So we’ll be moving in here for a long while. We’ve already gotten permission. The boys are setting up their rooms; we’ll be here with you. You’ll be safe.”

“What does Sergeant Major want in return? He doesn’t do anything for free.”

“That’s for us to worry about,” Mack said. “Not you. Let’s just enjoy whatever time we have together while we figure all this out. I missed you, Jaimie.” There was an ache in his voice. An unexpected lump in his throat. She had no idea. He’d felt shattered. Fractured. And he’d had no idea how much he needed her or depended on her until she was gone.

There was resentment in him. Stubbornness. She’d left him. Walked out.

Whatever her reasons, however stupid he’d been, she’d left him. For a moment it took all his discipline not to yank her out of the chair and shake her into seeing sense.

They were meant for each other. He’d thought—hoped—that when he saw her again, the impact she had on him would lessen, but it was worse than ever. He craved her like some terrible addiction. He wanted the adoration back, that look of absolute love in her eyes. He wanted her soft body streaking fire through his. He wanted the sound of her laughter and her trust. More than anything he wanted that back.