Deadly Game

Page 6

“That’s what we believe.”
“And he wanted her to have your brother’s baby because he’s genetically enhanced, isn’t he?”
Ken nodded. “Yes. We think he wanted you pregnant at the same time.”
Again there was no inflection in his voice, no change in expression, his glacier-cold eyes completely unfathomable, yet she winced, sensing extreme danger. It was odd that he never stirred, not even the ripple of a muscle, but the aura of danger, the tension in the room, seemed to build at times so that she could barely breathe, waiting for disaster. She had been around genetically altered soldiers for most of her life—was one herself—and some, like Brett, were cruel; others were men she respected, but all of them were dangerous. She just sensed something more in Ken. She couldn’t put her finger exactly on what it was—but she knew she never wanted to go into combat against him again. She’d been lucky.
“Mari?” The way he said her name shook her. A caress. A stroke of velvet. He created intimacy when there was none. He always sounded so gentle. Men weren’t gentle. Soldiers weren’t gentle. Men like Ken, predators, hunters, they weren’t gentle. How could he make her feel so vulnerable with just his voice?
“What do you want me to say? Yes, you’re right?” She should have kept her mouth shut. Anyone would have heard the stress, the anger, the repressed fear and hurt. Her life had been hell since Whitney had decided to pair the genetically altered women with soldiers. He didn’t care if the women wanted the men; in fact he seemed to delight in seeing how far the men were willing to go to get the cooperation of the women. Everything was meticulously detailed and reported. And men like Brett didn’t like failure.
“He tried to force cooperation from the women?”
She suppressed a small hysterical laugh. That was a gentle way of saying it. “Whitney wouldn’t put it that way. He creates a situation and sits back and observes. He isn’t messy enough to force us. He leaves that to the men.” She pressed her lips together and turned away from him. How could she be giving up information? Personal, vital, information. She had to be drugged.
“Whitney is a first-class bastard.” Ken moved, a rippling of muscle, a gliding of silent steps across the room until he was once more beside her and she could breathe him into her lungs. His palm was cool on her forehead as he brushed back strands of her hair. “He faked his own death and has gone underground. Someone high up is helping him. After Jack met Briony—”
“How? This all seems too big of a coincidence for me to swallow. You just happened to be the shooter when we were supposed to protect the senator. You miss when you’ve probably never missed in your life.”
“I didn’t miss.”
“You missed.”
A ghost of a smile pulled at his mouth. His even white teeth flashed. The effect was breathtaking. Her stomach somersaulted. Even her broken fingers tingled—fingers he had crushed. She remembered the swift attack, so fast he seemed a blur of movement. Even as she’d tried to fulfill her promises to the other women, she had admired his efficiency.
“Tell me,” she urged.
“It started with Senator Freeman. He was flying over the Congo, over rebel territory, and his plane went down. Mysteriously, General Ekabela, who was renowned for torturing prisoners, didn’t touch the senator, the pilot, or anyone traveling on that plane. At the very least, the pilot should have been killed.” He waited a moment, letting the implications of that sink in. “Jack was supposed to lead a rescue mission and pull the senator out. The orders came down, but Jack was still in Colombia. He’d run into a snag there, so I took his place.”
“You led a team into rebel territory to get the senator and his people out, but things didn’t go well.” Her gaze drifted over the terrible scars.
“They were waiting for us. We were ambushed and I was cut off from my unit. They were definitely after me, singling me out and sending in so many soldiers I didn’t have a chance. My men got the prisoners out and I was captured.”
Again, she was struck by the complete lack of inflection in his voice. He showed no emotion, when she felt the emotion like a raging volcano churning beneath the tranquil surface. She couldn’t imagine what the pain had been like—or the fear.
“How long did he have you?”
“An eternity. I knew Jack would come for me. Later I found out three rescue attempts had been made, but the rebels moved me constantly from camp to camp. By the time Jack found me, I was in pretty bad shape. I don’t remember anything but seeing his face. There wasn’t a whole lot of me left.”
“Ekabela had you cut like that?”
“Sliced into little pieces and then he skinned my back. Peeled it right off, like those deer on the senator’s porch.”
“So you had every reason to want Senator Freeman dead.” She made the statement quietly, watching his face for a reaction.
“I still want him dead.”
Chapter 3
“ Well at least you aren’t lying to me.” Mari held her breath, afraid to move. She’d gone from suspicion to belief and now she had to backtrack. Why would anyone be stupid enough to send in a skilled sniper to protect the senator when he clearly had a reason to see him dead? It made no sense.
Ken shrugged his broad shoulders. “Why would I deny it? I thought about killing him and saving everyone the trouble. So did Jack. But it smelled too much like a setup to me. If someone managed to kill him, we were right there, patsies to take the fall. Why would anyone order us to protect that man?”
“It doesn’t make sense,” she agreed, noncommittal.
“Out of curiosity, how can you be trained as a sniper when you’re not an anchor? Briony can’t use a gun against anyone without terrible repercussions.”
“I have an anchor. He draws the aftermath of violence away from me.”
“Your spotter.”
She nodded, watching his face. Shadows flickered in his silver eyes, turning them charcoal gray, giving them a smoldering appearance, as if any moment they might shoot flames. A muscle ticked in his jaw. He wasn’t quite made out of stone, as he would have her believe.
“Is your spotter paired with you?”
Was there an edge to his voice? Not really, but there was a heightened alertness in him. “No, he’s a friend. Was any of my unit killed back there?”
“I didn’t ask. I can have Jack find out for you. It was odd that the moment you were shot, everyone in your unit backed off the senator and fell back to try to protect you. Why would they do that?”
Sean had to have been injured. He had been closest to her and should have gotten to her position before the enemy. She sent up a silent prayer that he was still alive. He was a good soldier and the closest thing to a male friend she had. “I can’t answer that.”
“I seem to be giving you a lot of information, but you aren’t giving me anything in return.”
She was giving more than she should have, and both of them knew it. “If it was just my life I was risking, I might tell you what you want to know. I don’t have any loyalty to Whitney, or I wouldn’t have gone AWOL and tried to get to the senator.”
“You’re protecting the others, the women, aren’t you?” Now there was an edge to his voice, the ice cracking just a bit, enough to let out a wave of heat. “He’s going to hurt them if you don’t return.”
She said nothing, her heart pounding. Was she that transparent? Whitney would kill one of them. He’d started with seven, all raised together in that miserable compound, a life of duty and discipline where few things from the outside world were permitted and everything was recorded. They’d learned to move in the shadows and time the cameras to avoid detection. They’d learned to talk late at night, congregating in the bathroom with water running and signing their conversations, until Marigold had discovered she could build a telepathic bridge and they could all communicate that way. Those women were her family. She’d accepted her life and had pride in her abilities, until Whitney had changed everything.
Cami had protested and tried to escape. She’d been caught and Whitney had ordered a name drawn. One of the other women, Ivy, had been taken away, and a few minutes later they heard shots. There was blood on the walls, but no one had seen the body. They tried to tell themselves he hadn’t really killed her, but no one tried to escape after that.
“That’s why you tried to kill yourself. If you were dead, he wouldn’t have a reason to punish the others. And your unit knew he might kill one of the other women, a woman they might be paired with.” He swore softly under his breath. “Someone has to kill that son of a bitch and fast. Why would you think the senator would help you? He’s friends with Whitney. He’s been helping him.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You don’t know anything about the senator.”
Ken studied her face. He’d given her a lot of shocks very fast. She was doped up, her eyes unfocused, and the news of her sister had thrown her completely off guard. The revelations about Whitney garnered him a little trust. He knew his guesses about the threats to the other women had been right on. Whitney didn’t care about his human subjects—they were all expendable. He frowned. Maybe not the women. He could make more supersoldiers, but it would be difficult to find women he had data on almost from birth. “Tell me about Senator Freeman.”
“He isn’t friends with Whitney. They don’t like each other. I think Whitney went to school with his father, but the senator’s father and Jacob Abrams are best friends. The two of them have tried to keep Whitney from doing so many experiments. They’ve talked to him countless times. I’ve heard them. They told him he had to stop, that he was jeopardizing everything.
“Senator Freeman violently objects to the things Whitney has done,” she continued. “In front of Whitney, he chastised his father for making them a part of the experiments. There’s no way the senator would betray our men and our country for Whitney. If his plane went down in the Congo, and there’s any kind of a tie between Ekabela and Whitney, then it was probably because Whitney wanted the senator dead. Jacob Abrams probably gave the order for you to go in and rescue the senator, not Whitney.”
You heard of Jacob Abrams? Ken reached out to his brother.
Big banker. Loaded. Maybe more than Whitney. Definitely a billionaire and has a lot to do with the world money market. Considered a genius. Don’t know much else about him, but I’ll run him by Lily. She’d know. Why?
Mari dropped his name, said he’s a friend of the senator’s and both aren’t too happy with Whitney, that he’s going to jeopardize everything. Have Lily check to see if the senator’s father, Whitney, and Abrams all attended a school at the same time.
“You’re talking to someone,” Mari said, pressing a hand to her temple. There was accusation in her voice and a reprimand in her eyes.
“My brother. Didn’t you always talk to your sister when you were together?”
Mari frowned, thinking about it. It had been so long ago. Telepathy had been strong between them. Of course they’d talked, hardly thinking about it, sharing every thought. Was she jealous of his brother and that strong bond? Or was she leery because he was the enemy? She should know, but if she were honest with herself, she had no idea what the answer was. She suspected jealousy.
Frustrated and embarrassed at her lack of discipline, she attempted to shift her leg. Gut-wrenching agony slid through her. She choked back a sound by shoving her fist in her mouth and biting down hard on her hand. She turned her face away from Ken, unable to stop the tears burning in her eyes.
His hand was there instantly to steady her. “Take a breath. You’re probably due for your meds again. You’ve been shot. We had a surgeon work on you after Nico, and being genetically altered, you’re bound to heal at an exceptionally fast rate, but you’re going to have to give yourself time.” Jack, we need meds in here now. She’s so pale she looks like she’s going to faint.