Christine Feehan - Predatory Game

It was tempting to just blurt out her fears, her questions. But she knew better. Jess had been a SEAL, and once a GhostWalker there was no going back. He still worked for the military. He was involved in some kind of top secret investigation. She was well aware of the secret visits, the men she never saw come and go. She should have suspected, but the wheelchair had thrown her into a false sense of security.

“Saber?” he prompted.

“Nothing.” She forced a smile. She was taking this one day with him, for herself, because it was probably the only day she would ever have with the man she loved.

S ubject Calhoun’s sister arrived today. I managed to drop the listening device in her pocket earlier after I heard she was going to visit her brother. He must have jamming equipment in his house, because it did no good. I couldn’t pick up on anything and it abruptly stopped working. The good news is, she is back in town, and if needed we can use her to control Calhoun. He has shown us that he is willing to sacrifice his life for anyone he loves. It is his greatest weakness and one we can capitalize on. Give me the go-ahead and I can take the sister.

He would love to get his hands on haughty Patsy, looking down her nose at him, brushing him aside as if he were nobody. He could teach her manners and enjoy every moment of it. He was frustrated that the listening device hadn’t worked after he had gone to all the trouble of planting it, especially since it had taken so long to get the exact frequency worked out. Weeks of listening to Jess’s voice for hours on end, over and over, recording the exact wavelength. Whitney had all these little experiments he wanted done. And the other-he was just as demanding. It was exciting to be a double agent, play both sides and collect fat paychecks, but if he didn’t get the results both wanted soon, they would send someone else to do the job, and that was unacceptable. He had plans for the Night Siren. Big plans.

Jess had been all over the world and he had chosen Sheridan, Wyoming, as his home, not only for its warm, friendly people, but because of its rich history and the year-round activities. It was a beautiful city close to the Big Horn Mountains. It was home to him, and after he had been put in a wheelchair he had planned to stay-until Lily and Eric had talked to him about the bionics program.

He still had nightmares about how he’d gotten into the wheelchair in the first place. He often woke up drenched in sweat, his heart pounding, pain twisting his gut into knots and his legs jumping with the memory of first the bullets slamming into his bones, and then the torture that followed. It had seemed endless, a sea of pain, the pattern of blood splattering the walls, memories of the brutal men slamming objects into the mess that had been his legs. He remembered it so vividly. Time hadn’t dulled any of it. Nothing had helped until he opened his door and let Saber Wynter into his life. The nightmares hadn’t stopped, but since Saber’s arrival, they had eased.

Saber remained silent as they drove through the streets, but as always, he felt peace steal into him when he was with her. His response was strange, since Saber wasn’t exactly a restful person. She had too much energy and too many causes, but every time he was with her, he felt happy. On their evening walks, she often jogged beside him as he wheeled his chair along Main Street, past the scenic buildings.

She was enhanced. Whether he admitted it to himself or not-or even whether she did-she was a GhostWalker just like him. She was good-too good-and that meant she’d been trained, or she would have slipped up long before now.

Being a GhostWalker explained her voice, so popular on the airwaves that his little radio station was becoming a huge hit. It explained her need for solitude. She wasn’t an anchor and she couldn’t be around other people without pain. It explained everything but why she was in his home. Because no matter how much in love with her crazy ways he was, he couldn’t ignore the fact that she had to be a plant. That was the only explanation he could think of to explain why her fingerprints hadn’t kicked a red flag back at him.

He drove the van west on Loucks Street, but was so busy watching Saber he nearly missed the turn onto Badger. Kendrick Park was dead ahead. This time of year, with the air cooling rapidly but the snow not yet here, few people used the park. Big Goose Creek bordered the park, with its wealth of evergreens and tall, elegant cottonwoods.

“Perfect picnic area. All the tourists say so,” he commented, looking carefully, cautiously around. Suddenly his senses were prickling-nothing too big, but a definite hit. His hand slid over his pack to feel the weight of his gun.

Saber laughed. “This park is packed in the summer. I thought for sure you were taking me to Fort Phil Kearny. You’ve been promising for three months.”

“True, I also said we’d go to…”

“Buffalo Bill Museum.” She laughed. “There’s so much to do. We couldn’t miss the rodeo, that would have been a sacrilege.” And she wanted to do it all before she left-she wanted to do it all with Jess, because nothing would ever feel the same again.

“Would you rather go to the Fort? We could go exploring.” He paused in the act of gathering up their supplies. He had room here if an enemy attacked, both room and cover. He’d rather stay.

“No, this is perfect. I’d like a little peace and quiet, maybe take a nap since I didn’t get much sleep last night.” She shivered a little in the cool air. “You did bring blankets I hope.”

“I remembered everything with no help from you.”

She flashed a sassy grin at him. She hadn’t helped him pack for the picnic because she’d been trying to come to terms with the fact that Jess was more than a Navy SEAL; he was part of a GhostWalker team. It explained everything, especially why she could so easily be in his company. She had never been able to tolerate being around people for very long until she was with Jess. He was definitely an anchor and he drew energy away from her. She should have known. Well, on some level she had known; she just hadn’t wanted to bring it out in the open and examine it.

They made their way to a secluded area near the stream, where water bubbled over rocks and where they had a good view of anyone approaching them. After spreading the ground sheet out at the bottom of a thick tree trunk, Jess slid from his chair and sat with his back propped against the tree, blankets-and gun-within easy reach.

Saber sat a foot away, facing him, the wind playing with her hair. “I could stay here forever,” she said softly. And she wanted to stay with him.

“That could be arranged,” he agreed.

Saber pushed silken strands from her face. “Sometimes I can’t tell if you’re serious or joking.”

“I told you, honey, I take you very seriously.”

His black gaze bored into her, causing her womb to clench. She looked away. “Can you imagine all this a hundred years ago? The battles fought in this country? The famous Indians and frontiersmen who walked this ground?”

“Red Cloud, Chief Dull Knife, Little Wolf,” he recited.

“General Cooke, Captain Fetterman, Jim Bridger,” Saber listed, not to be outdone. She knew her history. She could read a page and recite it verbatim.

Jess sighed. She was probably going to relate every historical event that had ever taken place in Sheridan County including the building of the Sheridan Inn and the stories of its resident ghost. He liked history but not right now. Saber was running from him just as surely as if her feet were burning up the pavement.

“Are we going to talk about the Fetterman Battle or about us?” he asked, his voice gentle.