Night Game
Page 29

“Maudit! Stop pushing me away. I’m not going anywhere.”
She buried her face in the pillow. “You have to. You don’t understand how dangerous it is for me to lose control. I can’t stop crying and I’m so angry with Whitney. I try never to think about him because I don’t know if I can maintain discipline. You have to leave. Please, I’m asking you to leave. You don’t know what I’ve done. What I’m capable of doing. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Do you think you’re the only dangerous person here, Flame? I’m like you. I’m worse than you. He developed me into a damn weapon and sent me into a field to test the results without having a clue what would happen. I went like a good little soldier and I did what they told me to do. I killed five people. One was a friend of mine. I injured nineteen others. Try living with that on your conscience. Whatever you’ve done is nothing, nothing compared to that.” He pulled the pillow from her face, bracing his hands on either side of her head to stare down into her eyes. “I murdered them. Men I’d sworn to protect. Don’t talk to me about discipline or danger. I smile and I swallow anger and I back away from anything that might make me lose control. Not now. Not this time. I’m here to stay. You got that? Are you hearing me? I’m not leaving this time. I’m not giving up something I want as badly as I want you because that fils de putin did this to us.”
She shook her head, her fingers brushing his face. Lightly. With tenderness. There was regret on her face. “I don’t even care if he did something to make us want to be together. You’re an incredible man, but you’re a family man, Raoul. You know you want it all. You want a wife and a house filled with children. You deserve that. Wyatt will get married and your children and his children will all be best friends. You can’t want me the way you’re looking at me. You don’t even know me.”
“Flame.” There was a stark ache in his voice. Heat. Desire. He had never wanted a woman in the way he wanted her. “Don’t say I don’t know you. I’ve known you forever. You see me. The real me. You see me where no one else does, where no one else ever will or could. You can’t ask me to give that up. And I know you. You don’t have to be afraid or hide from me.”
“I had cancer. Not once, but several times. I can’t have children, Raoul. I don’t have a future with a family.”
“We’ll find a way.”
“There is no way and you know it. And Whitney isn’t going to let me have a happy ever after. He invested far too much time and money in all of the girls he brought over from the orphanages. And if you think Lily isn’t involved, tell me why she hasn’t figured it out yet. She’s smart. She’s very smart.”
“Not when it comes to her emotions.” He leaned forward, lowered his head. Just enough to brush his lips against hers. He didn’t know if he was comforting her- or comforting him. It was just imperative to kiss her. To feel the softness of her mouth against his. To feel her response to him, as natural as breathing. He wanted to gather her into his arms, hold her against him and just shelter her there.
Flame kissed him tentatively, reaching a little to complete the contact between them. She felt the heat of his mouth spreading through her body, just that one touch, but it was enough to warm her, to push back the cold of death and grief and the fear of being a monster. Her arms slid around his neck to pull him closer to her.
Gator sank his mouth into the heat of hers. His body blanketed hers, a slow stretch over the top of her, so that he felt every soft curve of her body. Her tears were damp on her face and her mouth was fiery hot. “Stop crying. Nothing’s going to happen right now.”
“Maybe that’s why I’m crying.” She kissed him again, rested her forehead against his. “I don’t want to be anything like her, have anything in common with her-or with him.”
“Flame.” It was a protest, swift and sharp and shocked. “You’re nothing like him. Nothing like Lily. Why would you even say that?” He eased his weight off of her, settling next to her, his arms surrounding her, holding her to him when he felt she was on the verge of flight.
“Why do you think he chose us, Raoul? Even then we were different. He could see it in us.”
“You had psychic gifts.”
“It was more than that. I’m a freakin’ genius, Raoul. There isn’t a whole hell of a lot I don’t understand. I have a need of knowledge, a love of it, and I’m driven to feed that need. I have to have answers. I’m smart in every area until it comes to my emotions. That’s where I make all my mistakes. How did he know? How did he figure out by looking at infants he could take control of their lives and hang on to them forever?”
“He couldn’t know that, Flame. And you aren’t anything like him. He may have been smart, but I didn’t see that much emotion in him.”
“You didn’t?” She shook her head. “There was such rage in him. It consumed him. He was in terrible pain and he wanted everything and everyone around him to feel the things he was feeling. He had emotions and he wasn’t in the least bit of control of them. That’s what he hated the most.”
“I didn’t think about it like that.”
“Peter Whitney is my enemy. I studied him. I studied everything there was to know about him. I found every newspaper article about his grandparents, his parents, and about him. He was unwanted just the way all of us girls were unwanted. His family was all about politics and money. They had him because it was expected, not be cause he was wanted. Nothing he did was ever good enough for them. He was ignored and shoved aside in spite of his brilliance. And he hated that. He wanted to do something to make them stand up and take notice. Maybe he even wanted to embarrass them. Buying orphans overseas and experimenting on them would definitely do that. Especially since his parents frowned on his outrageous beliefs when it came to psychic ability. He had rage all right. And he sowed that same rage in me. In most of the girls. Probably all of them.”
“How long did he have you, Flame?” He felt the breath catch in her throat. She turned away from him, settling her head on the pillow, stretching her bruised leg with care, her back to him. “You never talk about it. Why is that?”
“What’s there to say? He had you, didn’t he? Do you talk about what he did? What you did? The training he gave you? I probably could have escaped sooner, but there was that terrible need for more knowledge. Until I realized it was what he counted on. How much I was becoming like him. All that rage and all that pain buried so deep I couldn’t find it. The focus was always on the training and the knowledge.”
“How did you escape?”
Instantly, as if he’d thrown a switch, she retreated, physically drawing back, her face carefully blank, her eyes cloudy and unreadable. She let out a small, forced sigh and rubbed at her temples as if they were throbbing, averting her face. “I’m so tired, Raoul. I need to sleep.”
Gator wanted to protest, but he could see it wouldn’t do him any good. She had shut down completely. He kissed the nape of her neck and lay listening to the steady rhythm of the rain. Eventually her body relaxed and he heard her soft breathing indicating she really had fallen asleep. She didn’t want to answer him. She was exhausted, that was true, but she had cut off communication immediately when he’d asked the question. He’d felt her instant withdrawal. He was coming to know her, the slightest nuances, and Flame hadn’t been about to tell him how she’d escaped.
Outside the cabin, frogs set up a chorus and once an alligator bellowed. Inside, he lay awake, wondering how he was going to keep the woman in his arms, the only one he’d ever wanted, for his own.
CHAPTER 11
“Essayez-vous de vous echapper de moi, ma petite flamme?”
Flame paused in the act of shifting carefully off the bed. She should have known she would disturb him. “I’m not escaping. I’m not your little flame either. I’ve got business this morning.”
Gator groaned and sank his head back onto the pillow, fingers curled around her wrist, anchoring her to him. “Is it morning? It’s still dark.”
“You have your eyes closed. You’re not a morning person, are you?”
“I could be if you snuggled with me,” he said hopefully.
“I don’t snuggle. I don’t even know how.” She leaned over and pressed a kiss against his forehead. “Thanks for last night. I’m not usually so-pitiful.”
“You were grieving for Burrell. That’s human, Flame. You are human, aren’t you?” His eyes were open now. One kiss, a featherlight brush over his skin at that, and he was wide awake.
She frowned. “How would I know? For all I know I have the DNA of a tiger. Let go. I’ve got work to do and I don’t have much time. It occurred to me that whoever sent those men is going to be wondering what happened to them. The police know all about Burrell and the house boat, but they have no idea all four men were killed too. So someone will be looking for them. And they’ll be hunting for evidence before too many people start stirring.”
“It’s too damned early in the morning to be killing anyone. And you certainly aren’t going off alone.”
“I can handle it.” She twisted her wrist to remind him to loosen his grip. “It’s just recon. I want the person behind this, whether it’s Whitney or someone else. I’ll just follow them and see where they go.”
“We’ll follow them,” he corrected, reluctantly letting go of her. He watched her scoot off the bed, fish around for her jeans, and drag them on. He caught a brief glimpse of soft curves and his body reacted with a rush of need.
“You could have looked away.”
“Yeah. I could have.” He’d be damned if he was repentant. He’d been a saint all night, lying awake in too tight clothes, with her bare skin and silky hair and soft breathing. He’d been as hot and as aching as a man could be without shattering. And then she cried in her sleep. It was enough to make a tough man turn into Jell-O. “But the view was too nice. You have beautiful skin.” Although her leg was worrisome. It was very bruised and for some reason, that raised a red flag in his mind. He wanted to bring her to his grandmother immediately.
“Thanks. Good genes, you know.” Sarcasm dripped.
Gator groaned again and buried his face in the pillow. “I need coffee.”
She gave a small sniff of disdain. “I’m leaving. Right now. If you’re coming, get a move on.” She caught up the duffel bag. “Afterward, I’ve got to go shopping for some clothes.”
“Afterward, I’m taking you to my grandmother so she can have her friend treat your leg,” he called from the bathroom. He glanced at her through the open door. She was strapping knives on. The sight of her working so efficiently, so casually, to arm herself, sent another rush of heat through him. She was someone to contend with, a woman to stand with him in the midst of a crisis. He was grateful he’d thought to provide her with her favorite weapons after she’d sacrificed her own.
“You could close the door.”
“I could, but then you wouldn’t get a good look, would you, cher?”
“Don’t flatter yourself And you’d better not be slowing me down because I’m not waiting for you.”
She flounced out of the cabin and slammed the door. It was a nice exit, but the duffel bag got caught between the door and jamb. Gator followed her out. “I’m drivin’.”
She glared at him over her shoulder. “You’re not touching my airboat. You already destroyed my motorcycle.”
“Woman, forget about the motorcycle. I’ll get you another one.”
She ducked her head, the mass of shiny hair covering her expression. “I hid things in the bike. Stupid little things. I guess they really aren’t all that important. My getaway money was in it too, but I’ve got more.” She held up the duffel bag she’d stuffed with money.