Street Game (GhostWalkers #8)(22)
Author: Christine Feehan

Jaimie pushed both hands through her hair. Living with Mack again. She doubted she could survive it. But what else could she do? She wasn’t stupid. Someone had sent GhostWalkers after her and that meant Whitney was probably on to her and she was in danger. If he knew the evidence she’d been compiling against him, he’d never let her live. And she was tracing his connections, getting closer to his supporters. They would be even more dangerous than Whitney. He was obscure. A ghost. But his backers had political lives. They were powerful men with lots to lose and they’d never let her expose their crimes to the world.

She’d known when she started researching and documenting that she was entering a dangerous game, but she had always known she had to find a way to protect her family. She loved them and she wasn’t going to see them thrown to the wolves. No one was going to set them up to be killed by sending them on a bogus mission. She’d make certain of that.

“Can’t you stay in one of the places around here, Mack? I’m used to being on my own and you’re bossy.”

Kane made a sound in his throat that was cut off when Mack shot him a warning look. “I’m not in the least bit bossy. I know how to keep you alive, and you tend to trust everyone.”

She scowled at him. “I do not. Do you see what I’m talking about? I’ve been in business for two years, Mack. I haven’t needed you to tell me who I can work for.”

“That doesn’t mean you couldn’t have benefited from my experience.”

A slow smile curved her mouth. “Now you’re just teasing.”

“I’m glad you remember what teasing is.”

She deserved that, she knew. Mack and Kane were the two people she loved most in the world and she hadn’t exactly been hospitable. She’d accused Kane outright of betrayal, and there was still a certainty that he had known the address was wrong. He had been close to the one new man when they’d come into her home, the one they weren’t certain of, and it had been Kane who had blocked his weapon, almost before Mack had identified her.

“Okay, fine. But you’re getting your own beds. I mean it. I’m not sharing my bed.”

“Who wants that tiny little thing?” Mack scoffed. “We’ll get manly furniture tomorrow.”

The two poking around are leaving, Top. I have the feeling they’ll be back, Gideon reported. But they’re going to do a little investigating. Superman has slipped away.

Did he see you? Mack asked.

Naw. I just became part of the wall. Never moved.

We’re going to get some sleep. Thanks, Gideon. Be careful. And don’t trust anyone not our own.

Okay, Mom. Gideon laughed softly in his ear.

Mack sighed. Trying to keep them all in line was difficult. “We can turn in. The threat’s over.”

“Lucky us,” Jaimie muttered.

CHAPTER 5

Morning light filtered through the windows when a loud blast shattered the peace of sleep. Kane and Mack leapt to their feet, both reaching for their weapons, or at least both tried to. Kane nearly crashed to the floor, whirling around a little wildly, gun in his fist.

“What the hell?” Kane demanded, wiggling free and crawling across the floor to the window.

Jaimie dragged the blanket over her head with a groan. This was not the start to the day she had anticipated. “It’s the doorbell. It’s probably Joe.”

“Doorbell? That’s some kind of fog horn. Are you kidding, Jaimie?” Kane and Mack exchanged one long disgusted look. The noise was louder the second time, more insistent.

“Joe?” Mack shook his head. “Lean out the window, Kane. See if you can’t get a clear shot at him.”

Alarmed, Jaimie sat up, pulling the blankets to her chin. “You can’t shoot him.”

“Why not?” Kane asked.

He looked wild enough to really do it, his hair spilling all over the place, his clothes disheveled, his eyes fierce.

“Because I forbid it, that’s why.” Jaimie tried to be stern, but the two looked as if they might have been drinking all night, disheveled and heavy-lidded, making her want to smile. Sleeping on the couch hadn’t been as much fun as Kane thought it might be. There was some satisfaction in that since they’d taken over her house. She’d forgotten how crazy they could get, feeding off each other, until she never knew exactly how far either of them would really go.

The doorbell let out another long blast. “That’s it.” Mack scowled fiercely. “Shoot him, Kane. I’ll take the blame and let her yell at me. It’s worth it.”

“You got it.” Kane, looking like a panther, stalked along the bank of windows to one of the long, tall windows overlooking the street where the front door was.

Jaimie nearly flew across the room, laughing, grabbing at Kane’s arm. “Don’t you dare. It’s ten o’clock, we overslept. It isn’t his fault.”

Mack found the intercom. “Drop dead, buddy,” he snarled into the speaker.

Jaimie whirled around, horrified. “Mack, I can’t believe you just did that. Get away from there.” She turned hastily back to Kane, who was unlocking the window.

“Get away from the window.” She pushed her hands through her own hair, now as disheveled as Kane’s. “You’re both completely out of control.”

“What’s he look like?” Mack demanded. “A skinny little runt, I hope.”

“I don’t think so,” Kane muttered, leaning halfway out the window. “He’s a big son of a bitch, Mack. Really big.”

Jaimie tugged on his arm. “This is embarrassing me, Kane. Get your head back inside this minute.”

“Big? How big?” Mack lifted Jaimie right out of the way, craning his neck to peer out the window, fending Jaimie off with one hand. “Hell, Kane, he’s over six foot.

Shoot the bastard.”

Jaimie bit her lip, laughing, pushing at both of them, trying to pull Kane’s arm down. “You’re both so insane. Get away from the window. You’re going to embarrass me. And if he sees that gun, he’s going to call the police and then what are we going to do, smart ones?”

The doorbell boomed a deep, dramatic, and very insistent intrusion. Mack headed toward the speaker. Jaimie put on a burst of speed and beat him to it, although one of Mack’s talents was something close to teleportation so he’d obviously let her. She coughed twice, trying to control her voice, trying not to laugh.

“Joe, sorry, my family arrived very late last night and I overslept.”