Ruthless Game (GhostWalkers #9)(38)
Author: Christine Feehan

“See, we’re good. I need to get you little earmuffs in case we have to fire this thing. That will be my next invention. And we’re very grateful the walls are sound-proofed, so no one hears when you cry, my man. We can’t have them knowing you were born yet.” He went on to explain the mechanics of a rifle and scope and how his son likely had excellent night vision, which would help considerably in night combat situations. And did he see that scumbag Carlson inching his way closer to Mommy? Kane stopped talking abruptly. Telling an infant about putting a bullet in the bastard’s head was probably one of those things Rose would deem inappropriate. He looked down at the boy, who stared back at him with wide, intelligent eyes.

“Um, maybe we’ll wait until you’re a bit older before we discuss shooting bad people and when it’s okay and when it’s not.” He stroked the pad of his finger along his son’s soft palm in a loving caress. The boy closed his fist around the finger and held on. Kane found himself smiling as he put his eye to the scope and centered on Carlson as the man inched his way closer to Rose.

Rose sat in her chair, feet sprawled out in front of her, looking up at the stars scattered across the night sky. She didn’t appear to notice the close proximity of the enemy as he moved within twenty feet of her. Kane studied her. She rubbed her apparently pregnant belly with one hand. The other was at her side, out of sight.

“Sebastian, your mother is one cool customer.” There was pride in his voice. He couldn’t help it. She looked so small and fragile, with her porcelain skin and her wide, almond eyes, dark as melting chocolate. She looked helpless. “She’s about as helpless as I am, boy. Don’t you ever forget that or disrespect her abilities. Your mother is extraordinary.”

The boy tightened his fingers as if understanding every word. Did people talk baby talk to infants, or hold real conversations? Kane was the kind of man who could never manage to summon baby talk. The boy had to learn from the earliest age possible that his life wasn’t normal and never would be. “We’ll do our best to give you a childhood, Sebastian,” he promised. “But you’ll have to know things kids shouldn’t have to know. I think truth is best, don’t you?”

He shifted the scope to find Fargo. Fargo was observing Carlson, not Rose. He held something small in his palm. He was transmitting to Whitney behind Carlson’s back, no doubt about it. Carlson was a sacrificial pawn, caught between Whitney and whatever the doctor had promised to Fargo. Fargo might not like Whitney and even understood on some level that he was just as likely to double-cross Fargo as Carlson, but the man just couldn’t resist whatever carrot Whitney dangled in front of him.

“There’s a huge amount of speculation about whether or not Whitney has his own psychic ability, Sebastian,” Kane mused aloud, “and I’m coming down heavily on the side for it. I think he reads people, whether they have gifts and what their weaknesses are. It’s why he stays in business. He’s a master at manipulation. Never forget that, and never trust anything he says or does.”

He rubbed his chin on the butt of the rifle, frowning. “And that leads us to the main question. Why was he in league with Diego Jimenez? What do you think, son? Something stinks about this entire thing.” He winked at the child. “And it’s not your diapers.”

Thank God it wasn’t the diapers. Diaper changing ranked right up there with—well—okay he’d pull any other duty gladly. Fortunately, Rose didn’t seem to mind and actually, surprisingly, the boy didn’t reek like Kane thought he would.

He kept his attention centered on Carlson, the real threat to Rose. Fargo would back his play if it came to it, grabbing her, but he wouldn’t initiate violating orders. Carlson pushed his luck again, inching another foot forward.

Rose’s head went up alertly. She pushed herself out of the chair. Carlson froze as she slowly and carefully looked around as if spooked.

“Your mommy is so smart,” he whispered to the baby. “That’s my woman. Scare the crap out of the bastard.” He cleared his throat. “Don’t use that word, son. Especially never in your mother’s presence. She’d probably stick a knife in my gut.” He cleared his throat again. “Don’t ever repeat our conversations to her either. I’m fairly certain she wouldn’t be happy with anything I’m saying to you.”

Rose stepped out of the safety box and he switched from praise to cursing. Don’t you even f**king think about taking him out, Rose. You take one more step, and I’m coming out. You ignore me on this and see what happens.

Already he was shifting his weight, ready to go if she defied him.

Sheesh. You never let me have any fun. I was just messing with him.

He breathed away the tight coiling snake in his belly. She was about as predictable as the wind. Well, stop. You’re giving me a heart attack.

She didn’t make the mistake of disobeying him. She had to have read his intent, but she took her sweet time getting back into the pocket where it would be difficult for either man to make a grab for her without exposing himself for a good thirteen feet of sheer open territory. Rose took one last, suspicious look around, stepped inside the house, and closed and locked the door.

Kane didn’t move, watching the two men outside. It took Carlson several minutes before he dared to move, slowly easing this body over sand and dirt as he made his way back to Fargo. Kane let out his breath. If Fargo was really going to make his way into the town, he would do it after he reported to Whitney, and the report was always given at a specific time. Kane spent a great deal of time watching, and it was apparent that Whitney’s schedule was tight. He had two hours before Fargo would take off, giving Carlson the opportunity to make a try for Rose—and he was damn sure the man would make his try.

Carlson and Fargo both crouched low, appeared to argue, and then headed toward their camp. Kane continued to watch them for some time, turning over and over in his mind the problem of ethics. If Fargo went after a woman, and he followed and prevented it, he would be leaving Sebastian and Rose open to attack. He rubbed his chin on the back of his hand.

“Is something wrong, Kane?” Rose asked.

What the hell was he supposed to say to that? He had to make a choice, and it was a damned ugly one. Of course, there was no choice, but still, he would have that woman and anything that happened to her on his mind for all time. Unless … He could go hunting now, kill both men, and he and Rose could make a run for it on their own without his unit’s backing.