Predatory Game (35 page)

It looked like a war zone, with bodies strewn everywhere and blood splashed from one end of the room to the other. He folded the chair and locked it in a closed position. This was going to be tricky. Using the bionics always was. They could fail at any time and leave him in a vulnerable heap on the floor. He hit his leg in frustration. He’d suffered pain and the threat of bleeding out, countless hours of physical therapy, and he still couldn’t use them.

He looked up at the door, allowing it to swing open. His strength was becoming a problem. Like all GhostWalkers, even those who trained as he did, mental psychic challenges drained his strength faster than anything else. Slow tremors invaded his body. He had no intention of letting the other GhostWalkers—or worse, Saber—find him lying on the floor in what amounted to a slaughterhouse. Nor was anyone carrying him out. No one.

He forced himself to stand, using his mind to command his legs. Pain sliced through his head, and his body shuddered with the effort. He broke out into a sweat. He could move objects with semi-ease now. The more he practiced, the better he got at it, but moving his legs, making them respond, was both painful and difficult. And now he was fatigued, not a good thing when he was trying to make the bionics work. He should have let them try an external power pack, but he’d been stubborn, wanting his legs to be part of his body, not some externally powered robotic limbs.

He dragged the chair to him and placed it under his arm. He had to jump into the doorway, taking the wheelchair with him. And he had to land on his feet or he’d fall backward onto the basement floor—and Ben’s dead body.

Stiffening his back, he blocked out everything around him. Sight. Smell. Danger. He visualized his legs with veins and arteries and flashing nerves firing like sparkplugs in a car. He sent the signal from his brain to the nerves as he crouched low and leapt. He felt the power rush through him, the coiled readiness of the genetic enhancements springing into action. Though he hated what Whitney had turned the Ghostwalker program into, Jesse loved the rush using his physical enhancements always gave him. Loved it. Before he’d lost his legs, he’d lived for it.

He landed in the doorway and took a step forward, then a second. Exhilaration swept through him. He was doing it! He was walking again. He’d almost forgotten what it was like to stand, to feel his legs under him, to walk upright, his body once more his own and under his command. He felt tall. He hadn’t been tall in a year. It was amazing to walk, to feel free. He’d learned appreciation for things most people took for granted, and he swore to himself he’d never take them for granted again.

His legs began to shake, warning him he was overdoing. He set the wheelchair on the floor near the back door and took another step to walk around it. He didn’t want to stop, wishing he could just walk out into the rain and keep going until he found Saber.

Jess reached for the back of the chair, and his legs gave out, dropping him to the floor with no warning. One moment he was standing, the next he had crashed onto the tiles, the force of the fall splitting open his knees. He tried to go with it—he knew how to fall—but it happened too fast and he slammed his head against the wall.

Cursing, dizzy, he dragged himself into a sitting position and hit the wall with his fist in a fit of frustration. So much for the new and improved legs. With a little sigh he reached for the chair again. The back door swung open and he rolled, bringing up his gun, his hands steady when the muscles in his legs spasmed and cramped. He lay on his belly, his body stretched out, legs jumping, with his gun aimed.

A low, one-two whistle eased the tension in him. He rested his forehead on his arm for a moment, frowned when he lifted his head and saw his arm was smeared with blood. Wiping at his face, he rolled over, sat up, and sent the exact same one-two whistle back, but he didn’t lower his weapon until Logan stepped into the room.

“You look like shit. Who beat you up?” Logan crouched beside him but kept his weapon clear and ready as he examined Jess’s face.

“You ought to see the other guys.” Jess pulled his face away from Logan with a small glare. “There’s nothing wrong with me.”

“You’ve got a hell of a cut on your face.”

“My sister was tortured and someone kicked the crap out of my woman. I don’t think a little cut is anything to worry about.”

“Really? Well, you’re bleeding like a stuck pig. I thought maybe one of them got you with a knife.”

If Logan was looking for an explanation, he wasn’t going to get one. Jess reached for his chair. “Where’s Patsy?”

“Saber’s got her safe in the van. She wanted us to take Patsy to the hospital so she could come look after you herself.”

Jess winced. “Go to hell, Logan.”

Logan frowned. He’d always teased Jess about being in a wheelchair. Jess had never reacted with anger. “You all right?”

Jess dragged his chair close with one hand and locked the wheels. “Yeah. I’m just pissed that I brought this on my sister.”

Logan stepped to the door of the basement and peered down. “Holy crap, Jess. You
were
pissed off.”

“The bastards got off easy.”

“Couldn’t you have left one alive so we could interrogate him? The two we got earlier aren’t part of this. They were amateurs hired by some bozo as sacrificial lambs, maybe to set you up to see what you could do. But this was professional.”

“No, I couldn’t leave one of them alive. They
tortured
my sister. What would you have done?”

Logan swung his head around, his gaze meeting Jess’s. The easygoing mask slipped to reveal the predator underneath. “If I’d gotten to them first, they would have died hard and mean. They were lucky.”

There was a moment of silence. Logan turned away as Jess heaved himself back into his chair. Jess wiped at the blood on his face, his hand lingering to hide his expression. Having walked made sitting in the chair all the more difficult, as if it was the first time all over again. His lungs burned for air and he fought down rising panic. He didn’t dare look at Logan. He needed out of there. He needed Saber.

The back door was still open and he thrust at the wheels hard, propelling his chair out onto the porch. It was light outside, and raining hard. The wind felt good on his face, but the tightness in his chest didn’t go away. He heard the door of the van slam and looked up.

She came to him out of the rain, water plastering her hair around her face, slicking back the springy curls. Her eyes were enormous, almost purple, her mouth inviting. The sight of her shook him, warmed him, eased the terrible weight in his chest. She had bruises coming up on her face, her cheek was a little swollen, and she walked with a limp, although she was trying to hide it. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever laid eyes on. Her gaze locked with his and his heart somersaulted at the relief there. The shimmer of tears—for him.

“You made it.” Her voice was husky, as if she might be choking.

“Was there any doubt?”

She stopped in front of him, swallowed hard and shook her head. “No, of course not. But it’s good to see you.” She pressed her palm to the cut on his head. “Since we’re taking Patsy to the hospital, you can get this looked at.”

He didn’t tell her he was using an experimental drug for an experimental program and he needed his own doctor, he simply caught her hand and pulled her to him so he could taste her wild, exotic flavor and lose himself in the dark excitement of her soft mouth.

C
HAPTER
15

S
aber really didn’t like Dr. Eric Lambert. He and Lily Whitney-Miller had arrived at the house with Captain Ryland Miller in the evening after things had settled down in order to take care of the cut on Jess. She expected to dislike Lily, knowing the woman knew all about her past, yet it was Lambert who set off her initial alarms.

Unlike Lily, Eric Lambert wasn’t a GhostWalker. He might work with them, but he had no firsthand knowledge of what they suffered, what their lives were like. He studied them, and he patched them up when they went down, but the bottom line was, he experimented on them—just as Peter Whitney did.

The GhostWalkers were government assets. Resources. Weapons. They thought of Lambert as their friend, but he thought of them as a top secret arsenal. It was next to impossible to watch him interact with Jess and Lily as if they were his friends and colleagues while listening to his elevated heart rate and smelling his fear every time she got near to him. And it was tempting to get near him. To offer her hand when she knew he was so afraid. And damn Jess for telling Lambert about her abilities.

She stared out the window in Jess’s bedroom into the rain, wishing everyone was gone so she could go yell at him. Pick a fight. Make it easy to leave.
Lily and Lambert knew
. And if they knew, eventually the government would come knocking on the door and expect her to do a little job for them. She’d told Jess it would be like that, but he’d given her up anyway. He was too trusting, thinking everyone was his friend. A big happy family.

Moron. Idiot. Naive.
She pushed the heel of her hand hard against her forehead.
What is wrong with you?

Saber?
Jesse’s voice sounded in her mind.

Whoops. She was really distracted to make such an amateur mistake. It was exactly how she’d given herself away in the first place. She was so connected to him, she barely noticed when she reached for him anymore.

Well, you’re an ass. You told that slimy little doctor Lambert about me. I told you what would happen once everyone knew. He’s a government man. In a couple of weeks we’ll be getting a knock on the door and an engraved invitation to some social event where I’ll get to use my special talents for the good of mankind.

That’s not true, baby. First of all, Eric’s not like that and he’s not “everyone.” Second, I didn’t tell him. He doesn’t know.

He knows.

There was a small silence while he digested that.
Are you certain? You’re tired and maybe a bit cranky.

Saber sucked in her breath. Cranky? He thought she was cranky? Her blood pressure was shooting through the roof, she wanted to scream at him, but she forced a calming breath to stay under control.
He knows and I’m not cranky, I’m angry. I can fight one enemy, but not several, not all at once. He’s government all the way and he’ll trade all of us in in a heartbeat if he’s given the order.

Frowning, Jess cast a brief look at Eric Lambert. The doctor looked the same as he always did, laughing with Lily, teasing her about how she looked as if she’d swallowed a basketball. Saber didn’t know him and she was so worried about anyone finding out about her past. There was no real way Eric could have known. Saber was seeing things where they didn’t exist.
You’re paranoid. And exhausted. Why don’t you go to my room and lie down. Eric’s sewing up the cut and they’ll leave. We’ll get some sleep and you’ll feel much better.

First I’m cranky and now I’m paranoid?
Saber’s voice went low. Cold.

Jess winced at the ice in her voice. “Lily, come on. Enough already.”

Lily studied the cut on his head, frowning as the blood continued to seep in spite of the hours that had passed since he’d first been injured. “I told you to be careful. We’re using Zenith on you and that drug is dangerous.”

Eric held up his hands. “I’m going to wash up.”

“You know where the bathroom is.” Jess waited until he was out of the room. “You assured me that you were going to destroy the file on Saber.”

“I did.” Lily straightened up, stretching her back out.

“But you told Lambert about her?”

“No, of course not.”

“Why of course not?” Jess took the pill she handed him. His head was throbbing. They’d spent most of the morning at the hospital, staying with Patsy while the doctors ran tests and treated her wounds. Once they knew she was in good hands—and he’d put a guard on her door—Jess and Saber had returned home and waited all afternoon for news from the cleanup crew at Patsy’s house. Saber still hadn’t been to bed and she still intended to go to work. She wasn’t—he was going to make certain of that—but she needed sleep desperately and so did he. He just wanted everyone gone so they could be alone and he could hold her.

But Saber was wrong about Eric Lambert knowing the truth about her. Jesse hadn’t told him and neither had Lily. He breathed a sigh of relief.

“He isn’t one of us.” Lily ducked her head. “That sounds terrible, Jess, and I don’t mean it that way, but he could never understand our lives. If Saber stays, she’s going to have to be protected. Her skills will have everyone after her, even the good guys—especially the good guys. And what Whitney did to her as a child…He forced her to kill animals, animals a little girl would love and want to have for pets. He put her in the position of having to have perfect control or kill a friend—another child—toddlers even. How can a child get over that kind of trauma?”

Jesse was glad to hear Lily refer to her adopted father as “Whitney.” She was finally coming to terms with the fact that he was a monster beyond redemption, and she was beginning to distance herself from him emotionally. Jess was certain that was a good thing. “I didn’t think about that.”

“You wouldn’t, Jess—you came from a loving home. Saber wouldn’t have known what a mother and father was, not for years. She grew up training. Her life was all about rigid rules and constant learning. What do you think those first few years were like?”

He was ashamed to admit he hadn’t given it much thought—at least until he saw the pictures of her childhood.

“It’s amazing that she’s still here with you, that she could learn to trust anyone as much as she does you. You’re probably the first person she’s ever confided in, or shared any of the real Saber with.”

She was making him feel worse by the moment. He hadn’t wanted to think about Saber’s trauma, or even acknowledge there was a threat if she stayed with him, because he didn’t want to lose her. “She’s probably being paranoid, but she thinks Eric knows about her.”