Christine Feehan: Deadly Game

Jack and Ken had been on their way to do a little recon when the orders came down to protect the senator. Their team had taken a helicopter into the remote area and set up surveillance and an exit plan. The senator had insisted he and his wife should continue their hunting trip in spite of the danger, and she had concurred, turning down the team's recommendation to move to a more secure area.

Ken tried not to think about the woman slung around his shoulders, or how her body felt against his. He didn't want to touch her skin or feel for a pulse, or acknowledge the slide of silky hair along his jaw where her head bounced. She seemed to envelop him, and the scent of her soaked into him through his pores, his lungs, deep into his tissues and bones where he knew he'd never eradicate her.

He wanted to stay numb for the rest of his life. He didn't want to have to face another trial by fire. He wasn't certain he was strong enough to overcome the rage living and breathing inside of him. He couldn't afford to feel. He couldn't afford to want or need. He lived for the job. He lived to keep Jack safe, and now Briony and the twins she carried. Life for him had stopped almost before he was bora, and it was much safer for everyone that way.

This unknown woman, already the enemy, could destroy not only him, but his family. It was through no fault of her own. but he didn't dare allow compassion to sway his course. He was not going to become more of a monster than he already was. Inch by slow inch, his life had been compromised, until his outside skin reflected the dark shadows inside him where no one could see.

The hounds have been unleashed , Kadan warned. Not one stayed to go after the senator. They're coming after you, I don't dare leave the senator, just in case this is a setup, but watch yourself. I'm not certain who your sniper is, or why he's so important, but get the hell out of there. You're in enemy territory. And he'll be able to communicate with them if you don't get him out of range .

Copy that , Jack said. He'd dropped back even farther to protect them as they raced toward safety. And our him is a her .

Ken didn't bother to acknowledge. He splashed through three narrow streams and up a steep embankment, grateful for the fact that he was genetically enhanced. He could run long distances without fighting for air. and carrying the woman, as small as she was, was no problem. But soldiers coming up behind them were enhanced as well, and they carried guns. He tried to stay to the heavier foliage when at all possible, deep in the trees, careful not to expose his body as he ran toward the rendezvous point.

The sound of the helicopter reached him. It was flying in low and fast. Kadan had held the other team off to give them the break they needed.

They might double back on you out of sheer frustration , Ken warned Kadan.

Nico flew over that stretch of land the corporation you were talking about owns. It's a military training facility , Kadan announced. Watch yourself, they may track you in the air .

Ken swore softly and moved into position just on the edge of the clearing, where he could stay covered by the foliage. Jack came up behind him, but faced back toward the way they'd come.

"You need to get out of this, Jack," Ken said. "I'll have Nico drop me at a safe house and you get home to Briony. This most likely isn't going to end well."

"I'm not running out and leaving you in a hornet's nest."

"And what if we have to kill her? What then? Just go home and you're out of it. You never have to tell her we found her sister."

"Lie to Briony? Live a lie with her? That's what everyone else did to her all those years. I'm damned if I do. I promised her I'd always tell her the truth, and no matter how messy this gets, she gets told everything just the way it happened."

"You don't have to be in it."

"We don't change things at this late date. Briony wouldn't want that and neither do I. Whatever you're thinking, Ken, forget about it. If there's a chance to pull Briony's sister out clean, we'll do it. If we can't recover her, then we have no choice here and we'll accept that."

"Briony won't."

"She's stronger than you think she is. She doesn't want Whitney to get his hands on our children any more than I do. I'm not leaving, so drop it."

Ken kept his gaze on the helicopter as it dropped into the clearing. Nico was in the doorway, hands steady, eye to the scope to cover them as they ran.

Marigold Smith seemed to be floating in a sea of pain. It wasn't entirely unusual to wake up that way, but this time her heart was pounding in utter and total fear. She'd botched her mission. She hadn't managed to speak to the senator and plead their case. She hadn't protected him, and when she was captured, she hadn't managed to end her own life. She had no idea if the senator was safe, or if he'd been murdered. It wouldn't be so easy for anyone to get through Violet to him. but then Marigold hadn't considered that she herself be unsuccessful either. Briefly she let that failure shake her confidence in herself. She wanted to keep her eyes closed tight and just wallow in misery. She had been taken prisoner by the enemy, and it was too late to end her life and save the others. That left her one option-she had to escape.

Her leg, her back, her chest, and even her hand throbbed and burned. Worst of all, she didn't have an anchor to keep the psychic overload from frying her brain. She was wide open to assault, and that was more frightening than all the physical wounds in the world. She felt rather than heard movement near her and kept her eyes closed, her breathing even. There was no sound of footsteps, but she had the impression of someone large and very powerful leaning over her.

She wanted to hold her breath, self-preservation rising sharply, but then he would know she was awake. She drew in her breath and took him into her lungs. He smelled of death and blood and spice and outdoors. He smelled dangerous and like everything she didn't want-everything she feared. But her heart accelerated and her womb clenched and her stomach did a frightening little flip. Her eyes flew open, in spite of all her resolve. In spite of the danger. In spite of her years of training and discipline. Her gaze collided with his.

His eyes were the most frightening she'd ever seen. Cold steel. A glacier, so frozen she felt as if the cold burned her skin everywhere his gaze touched. There was no mercy. No compassion. A killer's eyes. Hard and watchful and utterly without emotion. They appeared gray, but were light enough to be silver. His lashes were jet black like his hair. His face should have been beautiful-it was constructed with care and attention to detail and bone structure-but several shiny, rigid scars crisscrossed his skin, running from under both eyes to his jaw and across his cheeks and up into his forehead. One scar dissected his lips, nearly cutting them in half. The scars ran down his neck and disappeared into his shirt, creating an unrelenting mask, a Frankenstein effect. The cuts were precise and cold and had obviously been inflicted with great care.

"Have you looked your fill, or do you need a little more time?"

His voice made her toes want to curl. Her reaction to him was disturbing and not at all that of a soldier-she was reacting entirely as a woman, and she hadn't even known that was possible. She couldn't tear her gaze from his, and before she could stop herself, the pads of her fingers traced one rigid scar down the length of his cheek. She braced herself for the psychic backlash-the onslaught of his thoughts and emotions, the shards of glass tearing into her skull that always accompanied touch, or even close proximity to others-but she could only feel the heat of his skin and the hard ridges that had been sliced into it.