Deadly Game
Page 13

“Mari . . .”
“You don’t know me well enough to use my name. You don’t know the first thing about me or my life. I’m your prisoner, remember? You shot me.” Her voice was tinged with fury, so she kept it ultra-low, but it was too late to rein her temper in. She was already looking for something to smash over his head. “Don’t you dare Mari me. I don’t care if I have a broken leg. If you want to torture me, get on with it, but I’ll be damned if you sit there being smug and acting like a jealous lover because of Brett. Brett, of all people. That’s what set you off. I get it now. The ‘did he touch you like this’ and then losing your mind. What a complete ass.”
“Mari . . .”
“What a moron. Don’t talk to me. Don’t touch my leg.” Adrenaline poured through her body, so that she found herself shaking. “Do you have any idea what that man is like? What it’s like for a woman to have someone who repulses her touch her? Go to hell, Ken. Next time you want to put a gun to your head, I’ll help you pull the trigger.”
“You don’t understand,” Jack said.
“Are you kidding me? I’m the one who has to endure Brett—or anyone else—at Whitney’s whim. Not you, not Ken. And catching a glimpse of a soldier who has treated me with decency and respect—one I admire—is cause for jealousy as well?”
Ken remained very still, his fingers still circling her foot, the physical contact sending electric sparks zinging along her nerve endings, adding to the flood of anger building like a volcano.
“Who is he?” Ken repeated.
She was already in pain. What the hell? She used her good leg, snapping it up and out, straight at his face, using enhanced strength, needing the satisfaction of scoring just once against him. He was messing with her mind and Mari found that unacceptable.
He blocked the blow with one arm, hard enough to make her leg go numb, never letting go of her other foot, not even loosening his hold, as if her attack had been so inconsequential he almost hadn’t noticed it.
“It was Sean, wasn’t it?”
“Go to hell.”
“You don’t understand,” Jack repeated. “Whitney didn’t do this.”
Mari pressed her lips tightly together, studying their faces. Ken hadn’t moved a muscle, his hand still around her toes. She could feel the warmth of his palm, was all too aware of him as a man—not a captor—not an enemy.
“Fill me in.”
“The old man managed to leave his legacy with one of us,” Ken said, his tone matter-of-fact.
But he was shaken. He covered it well, so well she doubted Jack could see past his mask—that false emotionless mask Ken showed to the world. But when he touched her, when they were skin to skin, she saw more, felt more, knew more than he ever intended—and he was definitely shaken.
“I was the lucky one our father handed down his legacy to, and Whitney knew all along. I thought I had buried it deep where no one would ever know, but he’s psychic and he read me like an open book, and all this time he’s been waiting his chance.”
Jack cleared his throat. “You think he wants to see your reaction to her when he’s paired her with other men?”
“He thinks I’ll kill them—or her.”
Mari’s stomach did a somersault. There was quiet truth in Ken’s voice. She moistened her suddenly dry lips. “Someone really needs to fill me in here, because, quite frankly, I don’t like the sound of that. Whitney has a way of manipulating people into doing exactly what he wants them to do and I’m not exactly his favorite person.”
“Ken.” Jack ignored her. “He isn’t reading you. He has no idea of your character. You think the old man is lurking around inside of you. Hell, I thought the same thing, but it isn’t true. We were investigated. Whitney has a high security clearance and he read everything in our files.”
“What is everything?” Mari asked, trying desperately to ignore the way Ken’s individual fingertips were bringing points of fire to her ankle.
“Jack, it has nothing to do with that. He probably did read the files, but he knows. He set this up because he wants to see how I’ll react and how Mari will react, and now that you have Briony to protect, he wants to see how you’ll react.” Ken’s fingers dug into Mari’s ankle, and he suddenly turned his glacier-cold gaze on her. “My father was an insanely jealous man. He brutally murdered our mother and tried to kill both of us. Whitney knows it and he set this up. You. Me. Jack. Briony. It’s all one big game to him.”
“Well he’s playing a deadly game then,” Jack said. “Because no one controls us, Ken. We do what we’ve always done; we make our own rules and we stick together.”
“What about her?” Ken’s reply was so low Mari barely caught the words.
Jack sighed. “You know it’s impossible to leave her behind, so we’re going to have to work through it. It wasn’t that easy for me with Briony, but we managed.”
“I’m not you, Jack. I’m telling you, I’m like he was.”
“No, you’re not.” Mari was firm, startling both men into noticing her. “If Whitney saw that information in a file somewhere, yes, he’d use it against you. He’s very good at twisting people into knots, exploring their weaknesses, but if he has psychic abilities and he touched you, he didn’t read that in you.”
“How do you know that?” Ken’s fingers continued that gentle brushing along her toes, his grip as strong as ever, but the touch had lost its warning and had become an involuntary caress.
“Because I touched you.”
Ken blinked. It was his only movement. There was no change of expression on his face, but she knew he’d reacted.
Jack edged closer. “You have that kind of ability? To read people when you touch them?”
“She doesn’t,” Ken denied. “She’s lying to try to ease my mind.”
“You wish. I don’t even like you. Why would I want to ease your mind? The worse you feel, the happier I am.” His eyes had gone to cold steel, but she held his gaze and shrugged with feigned casualness. “I couldn’t care less whether you believe me or not.”
“Do you?” Jack asked.
Mari studied their faces. There were definite chinks in their armor, whether they wanted to admit it or not. “Not strong, but strong enough to know Ken isn’t a flat-out murderer, especially not of women. He would carry out an order, but he wouldn’t just go around killing someone for no real reason.”
“Good to know.” Ken let go of her foot and took away the warmth. “If you’re so good at all of this, why don’t you tell me who this man is and we can let it go?”
She frowned. “You know it was Sean.”
“And he’ll come after you.”
“Whitney will send him, yes, but if you’re right that this is an experiment, why would he do that? Why would he send someone to bring me back to him? Wouldn’t he want to see what happens between us?”
“He’s sending Brett first,” Ken replied. “That’s all part of his happy little plan. And then he’ll send the other one because there’s a bond between you, and Whitney knows it—and he knows I know it and he knows I’ll kill them.”
There was an edge to his voice that alarmed her, his tone low and mean and without mercy. She wanted to say it shouldn’t matter, but she already knew the power of Whitney’s experiments, and she had enhanced scent, just as Ken did, just as Jack did. That made the pheromone response all the more potent. Whitney had created a powerful sexual attraction that transcended common restraint and threatened the discipline of even the strongest soldier—just as the doctor had planned.
If Ken was really like his father, as he evidently feared, she could be in more trouble than she’d ever dreamed. She doubted if she could resist Ken Norton if he made sexual advances toward her, but she would try. What she hadn’t counted on was caring one way or the other about the man. She was drawn to him, not just sexually, but emotionally, and that made no sense to her and almost scared her more than the physical attraction.
“My leg hurts and this conversation is making me feel sick. I shouldn’t be giving out information to you. We’re enemies.”
Jack shook his head. “I don’t think we are. If you were really ordered to protect the senator, as we were, then we’re on the same side. You have the GhostWalker crest tattooed on your upper back.” He shoved up his sleeve. “We’re a member of an elite unit of the Special Forces and we all work for the United States. We’re on the same side, Mari. I don’t know how the wires are getting crossed, but I suspect Whitney has something to do with it.”
“You think Whitney has gone rogue.”
“We all thought he was dead—murdered,” Jack replied. “He disappeared about eighteen months ago, and his daughter ‘saw’ his death, saw him murdered.”
“I can assure you, he’s very much alive.”
“No one has seen or heard from him. Only recently, we began to suspect he faked his own death.”
Mari frowned, shifting slightly to ease the soreness in her hips. Nothing could stop the pain in her leg, so she ignored it, the way she’d been taught. It bothered her that Jack was doing all the talking, as if Ken was still dwelling on other things—things she didn’t want him to be thinking about. “It’s possible he faked his own death so he wouldn’t be killed. If the government, or his friends, decided he was a liability, or a lunatic, they might have decided to get rid of him, or at the least have him locked up in an institution.” She risked a quick glance at Ken, but he was looking at her leg.
“What friends?” Jack asked.
“He has a couple of people visit every now and then. The compound is under heavy guard when they come, and they’re surrounded by bodyguards. Most of the time we’re moved to the back of the compound and only catch glimpses of them. Sean works with Whitney now, so a few times he’s told us about the arguments between them.”
Ken stepped away from her, folding his arms across his chest and regarding her with cold eyes. “It didn’t occur to you that killing a woman because someone didn’t return might be a little out of the ordinary?”
Mari noticed his body was still slightly between hers and his brother. Something about his deceptively casual stance and his tone sent a chill down her spine. “What’s ordinary? I was raised in the barracks with other girls. We were soldiers, trained as soldiers, ran missions even as young as twelve. None of us have ever been away except on a mission or training exercise. Normal was whatever Whitney told us it was.”
“And now?” Jack prompted, shooting his twin a warning glance.
Mari shrugged. “Whitney is getting worse. When I was a child, he just seemed mean, and remote, but over the years, he’s really deteriorated, especially the last year or two. For a while, he seemed like he had a human side. I thought maybe his daughter, Lily, was keeping him grounded, but—”
“You know about Lily?” Jack interrupted.
Mari nodded, trying not to flinch as Ken cleaned her leg. More blood had seeped out. “He talked about her often, and it seemed like he really might love her, although, to be honest, I couldn’t imagine that he was capable of real love. He didn’t see any of us as human beings. Over the last two years he’s become fanatical. Even his friends seem to be having trouble holding him in check.”
“Tell us about his friends,” Jack encouraged, taking another step forward.
Mari tried to keep her gaze from straying to the gun at his waist, or the two other weapons in the twin harnesses beneath his arms. He was close enough that she might be able to snag one of the guns if she was fast—very fast.