Street Game (GhostWalkers #8)(85)
Author: Christine Feehan

“So he would kill Kane and Brian and me, but not the rest of you?” Jaimie asked.

“We aren’t a threat to him.” Mack pulled out and slammed home again.

Her tight sheath clamped down around him like a vise. She was so close, but he held her release just out of reach. “Well, I intend to make certain he won’t send Kane and Brian on any more suicide missions,” Jaimie said. “And I want Whitney stopped.”

“Honey.” Mack kissed the side of her neck, suckled there for a moment, branding her. “It won’t ever matter what proof you have, they’ll only discredit you.” He knelt back up, still retaining possession of her hair. His voice changed, the anger breaking through. “Stop f**king around and tell me who else you’ve trusted with this information and why you trusted them, and not me.”

Jaimie swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. He looked cool and calm, but she knew him far too well. He was not only angry, he was hurt. Really hurt.

“Mack.” She had to work to keep her voice from trembling. He always affected her that way. She’d never been able to stand up to him when he became like this. It was far worse being naked. “Great interrogation technique. This isn’t fair.”

“You trusted someone else and you didn’t tell me. Did you expect me to be happy?”

“I gave you the information I had on Phillip Thornton. Any information I have on Whitney or proof I’ve collected, I have no problem sharing with you.”

“Why, Jaimie?” he asked, his voice quieter than ever.

She couldn’t stop herself from pushing back against him, trying desperately to force him to keep moving, but he held her firm, refusing to give her release. She set her teeth. “You stopped the trace.”

“Griffen’s phone has been bugged for a while. The setup’s been in place and they wouldn’t suddenly change it. Someone else was trying to get information about you.

You, Jaimie. They were coming after you and it wasn’t Whitney or Thornton.

Whoever is against Thornton and Whitney is also against every GhostWalker.” He bent his head until his lips were nearly against hers, his dark eyes boring into hers.

“Let me tell you something, baby. Whether you like it or not, you’re a GhostWalker.”

Jaimie let her breath out in a little hiss. “All right, Mack. I’ll concede you might have been right. I’ve been concentrating on finding out everything I could about Whitney. I might have accidentally stumbled onto these others without knowing it, but if we find out who they are . . .”

She tried to push back, to move her h*ps in a slow circle, but his fingers gripped her hard and he held her firmly against him until she could feel the very rise and fall of his breath through his thick, hot shaft.

“No. You’re in enough trouble with what you have. They were going to kill you, Jaimie. Thornton ordered a hit on you.” He smacked her butt, as if he couldn’t stop the spurt of anger rushing through him, sending waves of heat like a flash through her system. “The dead teacher, Jaimie. That was your warning and you knew it at the time. Who else had access to your file? Thornton was telling you to back off Whitney, but you didn’t listen so he sent his goon squad. They were going to torture you to find out what you knew and if you’d told anyone else. And then they were going to kill you.” He enunciated each word carefully as if she might not be able to understand him.

She could feel hurt radiating off of him in waves. It was crippling, the way the emotion battered at her, swamped her, reached out and claimed her. Betrayal. That was what it felt like to him. She’d already turned him inside out and now this. She didn’t want to experience his emotions but somehow, their energies were so knitted together that she did, regardless of her own desires.

Jaimie closed her eyes as her body rippled with need. “I’m well aware they were sent to kill me, Mack. I had to take the chance.”

He went absolutely still as comprehension dawned. “You knew they’d kill you.”

His breath caught in his lungs. “Oh, God, Jaimie. You knew they were going to kill you.”

She nodded slowly, afraid to move now. “Yes. I had to find a way to keep you all safe.”

“Damn it, Jaimie. It was suicide.” His hands gripped her shoulders and gave her a little shake. “Did you even for one moment think about me?”

“You’re all I was thinking of,” she defended. “You were out there risking your life, and you didn’t even know the danger was from the one sending you out.”

Mack’s fingers flexed on her hip. For a moment he laid his cheek against her back, breathing deep, his hands caressing her skin. “I don’t want to live in a world without you in it, Jaimie.” His mouth pressed tightly against her spine. “Never put yourself in jeopardy like that again.”

Her heart turned over. The fury was gone from him in an instant. She’d delivered more than a body blow; it had been a knockout punch. She hadn’t meant to shake him.

Her decision had seemed so intelligent at the time, her way of saving him, the only way she could.

He trailed kisses along her spine. “I don’t know what this is between us, Jaimie, but it isn’t just sex. You’ve never been just sex to me. Don’t sacrifice yourself, not for me, not for anyone. If I didn’t have you, what would be the point?”

Were there tears in his voice—dropping like burning acid along her back? She couldn’t tell and when she tried to turn her head to look over her shoulder at him, he began moving again. Her body responded instantly as he drove deep, a sizzling stroke of pleasure that sent rockets going off in her head. She gasped and pushed back into him, merging, one skin, one breath. Her eyes burned. It was always this way, the mindless pleasure coursing through her veins, her every nerve ending alive the moment he moved in her.

He could rule her body and heart so easily, and right then, when he’d been so furious with her, she felt more emotion from him than ever. It felt like love. Every stroke. Each time he thrust into her, driving deep, taking her up, swelling inside her, pulsing with her, while her sheath tightened around him, gripping with hot intent. She heard his groan, knew he was close. He stopped and she nearly cried.

Mack leaned over her body again with infinite slowness, this time pressing against her most sensitive spot, sending her body spasming, the roar of her orgasm tearing through her womb and up to her stomach so that she went into overdrive, shaking, shuddering. She felt the hot splash of his seed deep inside, but instead of his hoarse cry, she felt his mouth at her ear, his lips moving, small, soft brushes against her lobe.