Conspiracy Game (GhostWalkers #4)(69)
Author: Christine Feehan

For a moment she could barely breathe with wanting him.

You can’t look at me like that, baby. Not here. Not where I have to keep my mind on protecting you.

She had to remember to shield her mind from him. She wasn’t used to having anyone around who could catch her thoughts, and worse, her face seemed to be an open book.

“Don’t look at him, Bri,” Ken suggested. “Pay attention to me. As soon as we hit the bar, he’s going to go all bossy and possessive and act like an idiot and annoy the hell out of you anyway, so don’t even think nice thoughts about him.”

“Are you, Jack?” she asked. “Are you going to go manly and possessive and act like an idiot?”

He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Probably.”

“Why? I’m pregnant and on the run, Jack. Do you think I’m likely to fling myself at another man and beg him for wild sex?”

Jack groaned. “You can’t say wild sex. You can’t think it. I have the hard-on from hell now, thank you very much.”

Briony flushed, damp heat soaking her panties and her br**sts suddenly aching and full. She lifted her chin. If he could admit it, then so could she-just not aloud. You can’t say hard-on from hell because then I want to touch-and taste, and have you buried very deep inside me. She took great care to keep her barriers up against Ken and hoped Jack was doing the same.

Son of a bitch, Briony, you’re going to f**king kill me talking like that. Jack caught her hand and drew it under the table, pressing her palm tightly against him.

His reaction was definitely gratifying. She could hear the need pulsing in his voice, hoarse and clipped and edgy, feel it in the thick bulge throbbing under the thin material of his jeans. Nice to know I’m not alone.

“Would you like me to go check you into a hotel room?” Ken asked, glaring at them. “Because it’s getting embarrassing sitting with the two of you.” Hell, bro, we’ve been mind-to-mind so much we don’t even think about it and certainly have never cared how hot either of us was for a woman-but it feels different with Briony. I feel like a damned Peeping Tom.

I’m sorry. I’ll try to be more careful about protecting you.

I’d appreciate it.

“You’ll be doing a lot of babysitting, Ken,” Jack said, releasing Briony’s hand as the waiter arrived with their dinner.

Briony busied herself with her pasta, not wanting to think too much on her confession and what the repercussions might be. She was getting used to the tremendous pull between them. It wasn’t waning in strength-if anything, it was growing by just being in close proximity and getting to know each other better, but she was learning to handle it. Even so, she sat eating her dinner, listening to the sound of the two brothers’ voices, and all the while she was acutely aware of every move, every gesture-no matter how small-that Jack made.

He watched the doors and the people passing by. The table was situated where they could look out, but no one would see them. She realized that they were acting as they always did-her being there didn’t mean added security. They were always watching-always aware. What did that say about their lives? She studied them closely. The same shadows were in Ken’s eyes. That same wariness. He looked more relaxed, maybe even more easygoing, but she realized it was a façade. And they knew each other so well, had worked with each other, could communicate silently-they were definitely a team, and a lethal one at that. It occurred to her that it was somewhat of a miracle that both of them had allowed her into their lives.

It was Ken who paid the bill, and all the while he was busy talking to the waiter, Jack was at his back, gaze flat and cold and watchful. How long had they had to be afraid someone wanted them dead? Too long. It had to have been too long.

Briony stayed between them as they made their way out into the dark of night. Music blared down the sidewalk, pouring out of a building just up the street. Neither man said anything, but they turned in the direction of the sound.

“I’ve never actually gone in a bar,” Briony confided, sliding closer to Jack as they went into the darkened interior. “I couldn’t go into such a confined, crowded space. There were too many overwhelming emotions-desperation and loneliness seemed the most prominent when I’d pass by an open door. I wasn’t taking any chances.”

“I’m forced to come here,” Jack said, scowling at his twin.

Ken grinned unrepentantly. “Should I order you milk, Briony?” He turned to go to the bar.

“You do and I’m going to prove to you that I’m enhanced.” Briony heard his laughter as Jack ushered her toward a booth near the back where he had a clear view of the room. The crowd parted like the Red Sea as he walked through.

“You really don’t like it here, do you?” she asked. She had to sit close to him in order to be heard above the music and the noise of the crowd.

“Too many variables. All it takes is one really drunk cowboy and things are going to go to hell fast.”

She patted his thigh. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

He looked so startled she couldn’t help but smirk. At once he relaxed, taking her hand. “I do enjoy watching Ken have fun. He loves country music. He plays the guitar and sings like you wouldn’t believe. Don’t tell him, but he has a good voice-really good. Before Ekabela had him tortured, all the women flocked around him like bees to honey.”

“And now?” She watched Ken. He didn’t look at the women. He sat on a bar stool and talked to the bartender, and after bringing them both drinks-hers Coke-he talked to several men who were obviously friends. He didn’t look like he had a care in the world, but she knew differently when Jack took her hand and nearly broke her bones squeezing it.

Can you feel him? He tries to shut me out, but this is hell. Still he makes himself come here. He doesn’t have retreat in him. See why I admire him?

There were a lot of reasons to admire Ken. Watching him make the rounds, she sat quietly enjoying the music, holding Jack’s hand, all the while feeling the warmth of his body so close to hers. Ken took about an hour and then slipped into the booth and waved them onto the dance floor.

“You sure, baby,” Jack asked. “You don’t have to, if you’re tired.”

“I’d love to dance with you.” She wasn’t certain why he looked so leery until she slipped into his arms.

His scent enveloped her, his arms surrounded her, and his chest felt real and solid beneath her cheek. His body responded to her nearness with a tight fullness pressed close to her belly. It was a slow, dreamy song, and she let herself drift in a haze of need and lust, of urgent desire, matching the sway of his body, finding a perfect rhythm with his body. It was a moment in time no one could ever take away from her.