Ruthless Game
Page 9

“Oh, Kane.” Her voice shook.
She looked as if she crumbled right in front of him. She sank into the chair, pressing her hand to her swollen belly, taking long, slow, deep breaths.
“There’s no need to hyperventilate,” he said as gently as possible. “We’ll be fine. I’ll check the room. Take your gun, and don’t shoot me.”
She sent him a wan smile as her fingers closed around the butt of the gun. “Tempting thought,” she murmured, her expression both rueful and apprehensive, “but I’ll restrain myself.”
That little smile turned his heart over. He touched her face with gentle fingers before he could stop himself. She didn’t jerk away. Her skin was soft, like the petals of a rose. His knuckles brushed the silk of her hair. Immediately the memory of her body beneath him filled his mind. His body reacted, hard and full and aching for her. He ignored the urgent needs as best as he could, brushing the pad of his thumb along her cheekbone and down her jaw, tracing the beautiful bone structure, oddly grateful she remained still beneath his exploration. He needed to touch her, and maybe she understood he really had no choice.
“Stay right here, Rose.” He gentled his voice. She really did look exhausted, and the walk in the desert had obviously taxed her endurance. Unless ... He frowned. “Did you get hurt when you jumped from the car?”
“Just go clear the room.”
“And the tunnel. He would have had an escape out of here. A man like Diego Jimenez would never have allowed himself to become trapped.”
She pressed her fingers to her eyes as if her head were pounding. “I should have thought of that. I don’t know why I just accepted what he told me.”
He crouched down beside her, his fingers curling around the nape of her neck. “You needed to hear you had a safe place to go, Rose. That’s human nature.”
She looked directly into his eyes, and every cell in his body reacted to the pain he saw there.
“I’m responsible for our child. You trusted me to take care of her. I told you I would.”
The na**d mixture of stark honesty, guilt, and exhaustion was nearly his undoing. He had to stop himself from pulling her into his arms and kissing her until they both were sated—which would probably be never for him. Instead he grinned at her. “I throw males. I’m damned sure of it. We’re having a boy. I’ll be right back.”
He heard her soft laughter as he swaggered away from her, back to the bedroom. He had to get this done, ensure they were safe for the night, and then they’d have to find somewhere else to hole up until he could get word to the GhostWalkers. He had no doubts that when the political bullshit was gone, Mack and the team would come looking for him. They wouldn’t stop until they found him alive or found his body. They wouldn’t believe the tracker in the ravine. With no evidence of bodies in the wreckage, they would know he had walked away alive with Rose.
Kane examined the walls carefully for any evidence of difference. With a subterranean structure, it wouldn’t be difficult to excavate enough dirt to provide a hidden room. There had to be an entrance, and one that was fairly easy to get to in an emergency. It wouldn’t be positioned where anyone bursting through the door could readily see. It wouldn’t be on the wall the bed was against. He ran his hands over the remaining two walls. Neither felt different. He couldn’t find a crack that might indicate a door. Puzzled, he stood in the center of the room, frowning.
He couldn’t be wrong. Diego Jimenez was notorious, and the bounty on him had been astounding, in a country where poverty often overcame good sense. El presidente would have sent the entire military at his disposal after the man if he knew his hideout. So there was a back door. He studied the room again, aware of Rose’s restless movements in the next room. He had to make certain there was no enemy in the panic room or waiting in the tunnel.
There were no cracks, so what did that mean? The door had to be there, so ... He stepped close to the wall he would have chosen. It was situated in the farthest end of the room that, if used, would take them deeper underground and away from the front opening that was aboveground. He ran his fingers along the actual corner seam of the room. It seemed to blend flawlessly, yet when he looked at the ceiling joint, he realized this had to be the door, cleverly blended. There was no heavy furniture to cover anything, just a solid wall.
He ran his fingers along the edges, looking for a way in. It had to be easy. There would be no time for a combination. Jimenez would want fast access. Could it be that easy? A spring-loaded door that fit snugly but was made for a fast exit? The family wouldn’t hide there. They would run. They could barricade the door from inside the panic room. There was no need to do so in the bedroom. Gun in his fist, finger on the trigger, he put his palm flat on the edge of the inside seam and pushed.
The door swung inward soundlessly. He crouched low and scanned the interior. Inching inside, he took stock of the room. It was built with thick walls, and one side housed a case filled with guns of every caliber, ammunition, and grenades. Nothing had been touched. He frowned over that. If the old man had removed his valuables, why hadn’t he taken the weapons? He could see the metal bars, three of them, that fit across the wall from inside this room. An arched doorway led to the escape tunnel.
Kane followed the passageway all the way to the exit point, grateful he had excellent night vision. It was damned dark, but the tunnel had been formed for a quick escape, and the floor was smooth. Markers, painted in white, gave distance so anyone running could clearly see where they were at any given time. Simple but effective. He was beginning to admire the old man. He didn’t waste time and effort on elaborateness.
Kane followed the winding tunnel about a mile and came out on the other side of the sloping hill. He couldn’t even see the house from where he was. Just inside the tunnel, hidden from view, was an army Humvee. He knew the engine would be gleaming. This Hummer was an M1165 with frag armor and bulletproof windows. More, it was outfitted with the latest weaponry, the CROWS system. He sighed. This scenario became worse with every passing moment. How the hell did a man like Jimenez manage to get his hands on that?
He spent some time booby-trapping the exit, just in case the old man had set Rose up in some way. He had no answers for the why of it, but that didn’t matter so much. Keeping her safe was the main mission. He went back to her, satisfied they could spend the night and get some rest.
“I think we’re good, Rose. I found the escape tunnel in the bedroom. I’ll start the generator, and you can take a shower and get some rest.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice almost hoarse. She stood up with a groan and immediately bent over, taking slow, deep breaths and letting each one out carefully.
“Are you hurt? Don’t lie to me, Rose. If you hurt yourself when you jumped from the sedan, you need to admit it, not be ashamed. It was a dumb plan, but we got away.”
She gritted her teeth, breathing through her mouth. When she could speak, she made a strangling sound deep in her throat. “I’m not hurt.”
He glared down at her with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Nothing is wrong with me. This is called having contractions, you big oaf,” Rose snapped back, her glare maybe outdoing his by a shade.
Chapter 4
Contractions. Kane’s stomach dropped right out of his body. He stared down at her, his mind going fuzzy. That was one of those words like menstruation, period, or female products. The list just wasn’t uttered in male company. Contractions fit right in there. God. This was not happening. He forced his brain under control, ignoring the pounding in his head and the roaring in his ears.
He studied Rose’s body carefully. She wasn’t due for another four or five weeks, right? He knew when she got pregnant. When he’d first seen her, she had looked slim, but that had been an illusion. On the other hand, she never looked as—big—as she did at that moment.
“What?” Rose demanded, glaring up at him.
The warning signal flashed bright red in Kane’s head. Telling a woman she was as big as a beach ball wouldn’t win any points. How did one describe how she looked? A basketball? Volleyball? He studied her furious little face. Yeah. He was in trouble no matter what he said. Description was out of the question. He needed diplomacy, something that flew out the window when he was near her and she said words like contractions.
He’d jump out of a plane without hesitation in the heart of enemy territory, but damn it all, ask him to kill someone, not deliver babies. She didn’t take her eyes off him, and that expression on her scowling face demanded an answer.
He cast about desperately in his mind and then hit on a way out. He shrugged, trying to look casual as well as impressed. “You managed such a great illusion, looking slim earlier, it was hard to remember it was an illusion.” There. A compliment. He hadn’t stepped into the mud and sunk—yet. She was still looking at him, hands on her hips, waiting for more. He was beginning to sweat. Hell.
“You can’t possibly be ready to have the baby.”
“Which is why I wasn’t already here.” She had a little bite in her voice. “I still had several weeks to bring in supplies. Thank God the birthing kit I put together is here.”
He squeezed his eyes shut tight and let out a groan of his own. Birthing kit. Just add that to the growing list of banned words. Okay. He took a deep breath and let it out. Someone had to take control of the situation, and obviously she was too exhausted to do so. Someone had to man up and set her straight. There was no one else.
“Then stop. Right now. Just stop.”
“Stop?” she echoed in a near shriek.
“Look, Rose.” He used his most soothing, reasonable tone. “Doing this now would just be illogical. The baby isn’t quite ready, and we’re too far from help. Just think about something else. You’re upset and worried and you need to rest.”
Her mouth opened and closed twice. She looked at him as if he’d grown two heads. “Are you kidding me?” she demanded. “Because this isn’t the time to be joking around.”
She looked as if she was contemplating ripping his belly open with a knife and proving something to him. He took a cautionary step back and held up a hand to placate her. It was clear to him that pregnancy made women insane.
“I’m trying to help you, Rose. These—these ...” Hell. He wasn’t going to use the word contractions; that would make it too real. “These pains you’re experiencing, maybe they’re something else. The fall from the car could have caused them.” And that was more than a reasonable assumption.
“They started before the jump from the car.”
His stomach tightened into half a dozen hard knots. “Then why the hell didn’t you get on that helicopter where we could get you medical help?” he demanded, angry all over again. “Damn it, woman, do you have any sense at all?” Now she was making him just as insane as she obviously was.
“Whitney is not getting this baby. I don’t know those men you were so willing to send me off with. I have a plan, and it doesn’t include getting on the helicopter. And don’t yell at me. I’m in a delicate condition.”
She looked suspiciously amused now. He wanted to shake her. Instead he took a long-suffering breath and let it out to force himself to be calm and reasonable. Reason and logic were the keys to dealing with a woman in her condition. “Is there a possibility that you hurt yourself in the jump? That these pains are something else?”
She shrugged. “I’m hoping they’re Braxton Hicks contractions. Sometimes a woman can have false labor weeks before she goes into labor.”
Relief exploded through him. Of course. He’d just been thrown for a minute. Braxton Hicks sounded like the real thing. “Okay then. That sounds good. Let’s just get you in bed to rest. All this running around can’t be good for you. I can hike back tomorrow to the ravine and find the tracker and ...” He broke off, frowning. “Why are you shaking your head?”