Ruthless Game
Page 13

Don’t apologize, Kane. You’ve treated me with more respect and better than any other man in my life. Believe me, I appreciate you.
Kane kept his gaze on the desert. Four men running this way. They’re spread out, standard pattern. All armed, but only two are carrying extra gear.
Do you think those two are going to hang around?
He caught the apprehension in her voice. You know they will. They’re going to wait it out and report to Whitney when you have the baby. I can take them out, and we can get the hell out of here if you’re up to it.
Her hesitation alarmed him. I don’t think it’s a good idea right now, Kane. I’m getting the contractions again. They aren’t as regular as the ones the other day, but they’re harder and lasting longer.
She was definitely frightened. The word contractions scared the holy hell out of him. He took a breath and fit the rifle to his shoulder, tracking each of the men through his scope. He had taken the rifle from Jimenez’s private arsenal, recognizing his favorite sniper rifle. It felt like an old friend. He’d cleaned it, taken it apart and put it back together, test-fired it several times, and repeated the entire operation until the rifle felt like his own.
Once he’d seen the Humvee and the CROWS system, he knew he had to tell her the truth. No way could Jimenez have acquired that system without serious backing—and he feared he knew exactly who that man had been.
Rose, Jimenez left a hell of an arsenal behind. All military issue, all the very latest technology, which meant he was in bed with Whitney.
That doesn’t make sense. For all his failings, Whitney is a patriot. He wouldn’t put weapons into the hands of a rebel.
Kane could see the enemy now, see their grim, dark-striped faces clearly. Dressed in desert camouflage clothing, they ran at a steady pace, covering the mile quickly.
They’re spreading out. Look unaware and sweet and innocent.
It’s a little hard to look innocent when I’m as big as a house.
He suppressed his unexpected laughter. She wasn’t as big as a house, not by a long shot. Hell, Rose, from the back I couldn’t even tell you were pregnant. Only your tummy is round. He congratulated himself for being wise not to use the beach ball reference. You might not think you’re innocent, sweetheart, but pregnant or not, you’re very innocent.
What does that mean?
It means, he said, once you have that baby, I’ve got a whole hell of a lot to teach you. Before she could reply and tell him to go to hell, that she didn’t plan on sticking around, he gave another report. Flanking you now. One coming around on your left side.
I can’t see him yet.
The knots in his gut unraveled a bit at the calm in her voice. He admired her, plain and simple. He was lying prone, rifle in hand, watching the enemy. She was a sitting duck. He watched each man reach a position where he was able to see the one side of the house.
Checking you out now, sweetheart. They’ve gone to ground. Keep reading the book. What else does it say?
Oh dear. This isn’t good. You know the part where women can have sex as long as there aren’t any complications? Not so much in the last month. Sex can bring on labor. My dreams are shattered.
He loved the laughter in her voice. Her teasing tone told him she was lying her ass off, but he liked that she was comfortable enough to tease him about sex. He was tied to her for life and would never find a woman with quite the same appeal, but she had no ties to him other than the baby—certainly not sex. He wiped his chin on his sleeve and kept his eye to the scope.
Your dreams? he echoed. I’m suffering here, woman. He shifted just enough to ease his body into a more comfortable position in the sand. Teasing back and forth about sex was dangerous when they had enemies coming at them, but he understood it was simply another form of comic banter soldiers often used to relieve the tension. Now you go and tell me something like that. He had no problems with camaraderie. He could do camaraderie standing on his head—but not when she was putting images of his body locked with hers in his head.
Sorry, I couldn’t resist. The book actually does say that.
She hesitated, and his body reacted, tightening in anticipation. She seemed suddenly uncertain about sharing some piece of information. For a woman forthcoming about things, that didn’t bode well. Tell me.
She sighed. I think the baby dropped.
His heart thudded. He blinked, and the man he’d been watching was gone that quick out of his line of sight. Kane marked where their enemy had gone to ground, but that didn’t mean the bastard wasn’t on the move. The baby dropped? he repeated, feeling like he’d been hit over the head with something really hard. What the hell does that mean?
When I took my shower this evening, the pressure was off my ribs. I think the baby moved down into the birthing position.
I haven’t read the book, Rose. He searched every inch of the sandbank where the enemy had disappeared, trying not to panic—not because he’d lost sight of the enemy, but because he had a very bad feeling about babies dropping and what that meant.
She hesitated again, and that small hesitation continued to freak him out. He studied the sandbank. Had blades of saw grass moved? There was no wind. Not even a breeze. The night air had cooled, but it was still warm. Stars were everywhere, glittering like diamonds scattered across the sky. It was a beautiful night. He always marveled how something so ugly as murder could take place in such peaceful settings. The night was made for a man and woman to sit quietly and enjoy the constellations and each other.
“I see you,” he whispered under his breath. The saw grass bent toward the house, and he caught a glimpse of the outline of the enemy’s shoulder. On your left, Rose. He’s moving toward you. Don’t look. If he gets too close, he’s a dead man.
He checked the other three before putting the rifle back on the one closest to Rose. The others were holding position.
Don’t shoot him. Rose’s voice was tight, even shook a little. They need proof. Whitney wants documentation of everything. They’re probably trying to get a clear picture of me. He has to maneuver into position.
That little wobble in her voice had him stroking the trigger. Ice flowed in his veins normally when he was waiting for a kill shot, but tonight, with Rose sitting out in the open surrounded by the enemy, his mind was a little difficult to discipline.
This is f**king bullshit, Rose. I’m going to kill them all and we’ll get the hell out of here. We have the Humvee.
Kane. The soft note in her voice turned his heart over. I love that you want to protect me, but I’m telling you, I can’t travel. I can’t do it. If I could, I’d say let’s go for it, but it’s too soon for the baby to be born, and I think my body is so worn down it just can’t hold her anymore.
Kane wiped the sweat from his face with one hand, watching the enemy closest to Rose. The man was still easing himself forward. Now he was within fifty feet of her.
Kane knew Whitney had “paired” him; hell, he’d even agreed to it, though he hadn’t known exactly what it meant at the time. As far as he understood it, it had something to do with pheromones. Didn’t that just mean he would forever remain sexually attracted to her? If so, if that was all, what the hell was wrong with him that every cell in his body demanded he get Rose out of the situation?
Now that he’d found her again, his child growing inside her, now that he’d watched her sleep and listened to her soft laughter, admired her courage and respected her fighting capabilities, he feared pairing was far more than sexual. Whether Whitney’s program had done that or whether he was just falling like a ton of bricks for the woman, he didn’t know, but it was messing him up having her in danger.
What’s he doing?
She sounded nervous, yet she tried to cover it. His heart twisted. He wanted to gather her into his arms and hold her. I hate to admit it, but you were right. And just for the record, that might be the only time I ever say those words to you, so treasure them. He figured if he teased her a little to lighten the tension, it would help both of them. He’s recording you sitting there looking all content and smug outside your hideaway. Whitney will love that.
I try to please.
His stomach settled. Her tone was stronger. Something was wrong, though, and he wanted these men gone. You all right?
She hesitated, and the knots were back just like that.
Rose? he prompted.
The contractions are pretty hard, Kane.
Kane rubbed his jaw. Once again he’d underestimated. She hadn’t been afraid of Whitney’s men. She’d probably been sitting there, armed to the teeth, waiting for them to make a wrong move. She was worried the baby was coming too early.
As soon as you can get inside without looking as if there’s a problem, go in. Hopefully they’ll leave faster. Two of them plan on staying behind, but they can’t risk you seeing them, so they’ll have to set up camp a distance from here.
How long will you be, Kane?
There was a distinct quaver in her voice. He swore under his breath, the urge to just shoot the bastards and get to her nearly overwhelming common sense. I won’t be long, sweetheart.
He hoped he was telling the truth. He knew that two of Whitney’s men would return to the helicopter, probably as soon as Rose went inside, now that they had their visual confirmation for their boss. The other two might set up camp immediately, believing she was alone, or one might remain watching. If that happened, Kane was going to have to reenter the house using the tunnel, and that meant a long hike through the sand without being seen. Visibility on such a clear night was virtually miles. He’d be crawling, and Rose would be waiting, maybe going into labor.
I should have just shot the bastards. It would have been easier, Rose.
She laughed at the frustration in his voice. I’m going in while I can. I’ll be fine. If the contractions are real, they’ll grow stronger still and get longer in length.
Through his scope he watched her pick up the folding chair and carry it back inside. No light escaped from the house. Once she was inside and the small light she’d used for reading disappeared, so did the house. Kane remained absolutely still. The men were in motion, one moving right up to Jimenez’s subterranean hideaway. He examined the sand all around the house. Kane was grateful that he’d always covered his tracks when patrolling outside and familiarizing himself with the terrain.
The one close to the house joined a second man. They conferred, waved at the remaining two, who took off running for the waiting helicopter. Kane turned his full attention to the two left behind. They were up and jogging straight toward him.
“I don’t know why he just won’t let us grab her,” one grumbled. “You know this is a bullshit assignment, Fargo. He was pissed at us because we didn’t get the job done. I’d like to get my hands on the little bitch and teach her a lesson. Whitney’s been on my case since she rejected me.
And he’s been on yours ever since your little bitch tried to disembowel you.” The man snickered and then spit.
The spit landed four feet from where Kane lay in the saw grass. He remembered the speaker. Carlson James. Kane had looked up his service record the moment he’d gotten out of Whitney’s compound. James was a troublemaker in every unit he was put in. He’d been reported killed in Afghanistan two years earlier, but not before an arrest warrant had been issued for the suspected rape of a female officer. Kane knew exactly why Whitney had chosen the man for his private army. He needed someone ruthless, without morals, who would have no qualms forcing a woman to have sex with him. Carlson James fit that bill.
Why had Whitney chanced sending him? Not only had Carlson’s ego been seriously bruised by Rose’s rejection, but he was paired with her too. Kane heard the rage smoldering in the man’s belly when he spoke of Rose. He had to be eaten alive knowing another man had touched her—that she was carrying another man’s baby. Kane didn’t trust him at all. Carlson was the type of man who would turn on Whitney if the right circumstances presented themselves. It was a stupid move on Whitney’s part.