Predatory Game (8 page)

To her surprise, her assailant suddenly swore and yanked the gun back.

“Saber!” Jess’s voice was hoarse with a mixture of fear and anger. “Are you out of your mind sneaking in here like that? I could have shot you.”

Fury and relief met fear head on, mingled, and melted together in a violent swirl of emotion she couldn’t contain. “You pulled a gun on me?” She flung herself at him, swinging at him with a clenched fist. She could have killed him—had come within a hairsbreadth of killing Jesse. Oh God, she could never—
never
—have lived with that.

He caught both of her wrists, tipped her off balance, and brought her up hard against his legs. “Stop it, Saber.” He gave her a little shake when she continued to struggle. “I had no idea you were coming home. It’s hours early. You hate the dark and yet you didn’t turn on a single light.” He made the words an accusation.

She was trembling uncontrollably, so close to tears it terrified her. “I was being considerate,” she hissed. “Which is more than I can say for you. Let go of me, you’re hurting me.” She could have killed him. She
would
have killed him. Why hadn’t she known it was him? She always recognized his scent, his warmth. She hadn’t even recognized his voice. Maybe she had on some level afterward, but not at first, not when he’d come at her in the dark. Why? What had been different? Her mind raced with questions, but anger and hurt and terror overtook reason.

“Are you calm?”

“Don’t patronize me. You put a gun to my head. God! I live here, Jesse, I can come and go as I please. And what are you doing sitting up at one o’clock in the morning, lights out, with a gun?” she demanded.

Suddenly she knew. She felt another’s presence, a witness to her hysterical outburst. Stiffening, she turned slowly. Saber caught a glimpse of a shadowy figure hastily backing out of sight. Tall, abundant curves. Saber’s heart plunged right down to her toes. A woman. Jesse was with a woman in the middle of the night. A stranger. With the lights off. Worse, Jess was so willing to protect that stranger that he had actually lain in wait with a gun. Betrayal was a bitter taste in Saber’s mouth.
And why hadn’t she scented the woman?

A small flame began to smolder. Had he held the woman in his strong arms? Run his hands through her hair? Kissed her the way Saber had so longed for him to kiss her? Oh God, they’d probably been making love, right there in the living room. The fire spread. And the woman had witnessed Saber’s lack of control. Her gaze was riveted to Jess’s hard features. It was a silent accusation of betrayal and she didn’t give a damn if he knew how she felt. She’d spent way too long here, risked too much.
Damn you to hell for this.

Saber evaded his instinctive move toward her, pressing the back of her hand to her mouth. She felt betrayed, utterly betrayed. If it was possible to hate Jess, right at that moment, she did.

“Saber.” There was an ache in his voice.

She whirled around and ran up the stairs, for the first time in years not caring or even noticing that the lights were out. She went straight through to her bedroom, her chest burning, fighting for air, her head pounding. She flung her shoes one after the other at the wall and threw herself facedown on the bed. If this was normal, it sucked. She didn’t want normal anymore. She wanted to disappear, let Saber Wynter die and someone else, someone who didn’t—
couldn’t
—feel like this take her place.

J
ess doubled his fist wanting, needing, to smash something. In ten months Saber had never once come home early from work. The security guard should have called him, damn it. Brian should have called him. Why was she home? And what the hell was wrong with her? She hadn’t known it was Jess holding the gun, he had been shielding the scents and sounds in the room, yet she had fought like a wildcat, even going so far as to scream at him to shoot her.

Instantly he felt the jarring note. Not him. She believed him to be someone else. He winced as he heard her shoes crash against the wall. Who? Who had she expected? He moved toward the darkened living room.

A soft muted sound stopped him cold. Saber was weeping, a muffled, heartbroken sound that tore his heart right out of his chest. Damn the GhostWalkers and the all-too-necessary security precautions. Damn the security guard and Brian for withholding a warning.

“I’ll go.” His guest moved out of the shadows.

“I’m sorry for the inconvenience,” Jess forced himself to say. He couldn’t very well tell her to go to hell. Louise Charter, the admiral’s secretary, had risked her life to hand deliver a small digital recorder to him, yet at that moment, all he could hear, could concentrate on, all he cared about, were the soft sounds of distress emanating from the bedroom upstairs.

Saber never cried in front of him. Not even if she was injured. Tears might sparkle for a moment, but in ten long months, Saber Wynter had never cried.

Jess knew he was bordering on rudeness when he ushered Louise from his home with unseemly haste. The moment the door was closed he waited impatiently for the lift. It seemed to take an endless amount of time. He had a mad desire to try jumping his wheelchair up the flight of stairs, balancing on two wheels.

Why had she come home? He remembered the feel of her satin skin burning his. Of course. She was ill. There could be no other reason conscientious little Saber would leave her job. He didn’t let himself remember the cool steel in her eyes when she’d first turned, the ease of her body rolling, and her hands coming up in a classic defense. Only the hurt, the betrayal in her eyes—
in her voice
—mattered. Her voice had slid into his mind with such ease, such clarity, such pain.

The lift carried him to the second floor and his racing chair glided silently through the sitting room to her bedroom. He paused in the wide doorway, his dark, stricken gaze on Saber’s slender form. She was on her stomach, her tear-stained face buried in the crook of her arm.

His heart turned over. One thrust of his powerful arms and he was at her side, his hand tangling in the riot of curls. “Baby.” He groaned it softly in a kind of anguish. “Don’t, don’t do this.”

“Go away.” Her voice was muffled.

“You know I’m not going to do that,” he replied, keeping his voice low. “You’re sick, Saber, I’m not just leaving you up here to fend for yourself.” His hand stroked her hair. “Come on, love, you’ve got to stop crying. You’ll get a headache.”

“I already have a headache,” she sniffed. “Go away, Jesse, I don’t want you to see me like this.”

“Who can see? It’s dark in here,” he teased, hands sliding to her shoulders in a calming rhythm.

“Where’d your little friend go?” Saber couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out, could have bitten her tongue off for doing so. As if she cared. He could have fifty women, a whole harem over every night while she worked at the station.

Jess found himself smiling in spite of everything, and had to hastily control his voice. “You’re running a fever, little one, let me get you a cold cloth. Have you taken any aspirin?”

“So perceptive of you to notice.” Saber sat up, rubbing her eyes with her fist, furious with herself for crying. She swept a hand through the mass of raven-colored curls in a vain effort to smooth the disheveled mess. “And I can take an aspirin all by myself.”

He was already halfway to her bathroom. “True, but would you?” he queried as he pushed open the door.

Jess had designed the remodel of his house, making certain that every door was comfortably wide, everything was low enough for him. Now, he was particularly grateful that he’d made certain he had ease of movement upstairs as well as down. Ignoring the lacy scraps of female underwear hanging to dry on the towel rack, Jess scooped up a washcloth.

Saber made an effort to pull herself together. So she wasn’t feeling good. Big deal. So her best friend in the entire world had scared the hell out of her. Big deal. Jess was sneaking around with some woman he didn’t want her to know about. Rotten, stinking, no-good bum. Saber smoldered with resentment, frustration, and something that was far too close to jealousy.

Just what was he doing with all the lights out? How often did Jezebel visit while she was gone? It wasn’t like Saber didn’t tell him about every single disgusting date she went on. They had endless discussions about them. She didn’t sneak behind his back.

Jess stifled a small grin. It took tremendous effort for him to keep his expression blank. Her violet-blue eyes spit fire at him. Jealousy meant she cared, whether she wanted to care or not. Something stirred in him deep down, something gentle and tender and long forgotten.

“Baby,” he said gently, “if you continue to look at me like that I’m bound to fall dead on the floor.” The cool washcloth moved over her burning face, stroked down her neck.

“Good idea, great idea, in fact,” Saber snapped, but she didn’t pull away from his ministrations.

“Shall I call Eric?” He pushed back her hair.

Eric Lambert was the surgeon who had saved Jesse’s life, Saber knew, a really big deal, apparently famous among doctors, and he still made house calls—at least to Jess. Sometimes he came with another doctor, a woman, although Saber had never met her. But she knew Jess had been violently ill after the last time they’d both come; she didn’t want any part of that.

“I’ve got the flu, Jesse,” she reassured him in spite of the fact that he deserved the death penalty. “No big deal, I don’t need a doctor.”

“You need to get out of these clothes.” His voice dropped a husky octave.

“Don’t hold your breath.” Having an affair without saying a single word when he wanted to know every detail of her dates? How dare he?

“Who did you think I was?” He slipped the question in with all the precision of a skilled surgeon wielding a knife.

Beneath his hands she went still, blue eyes skittering away from his. One finger nervously twisted a lock of hair around it. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Jess lifted the washcloth, caught her chin in a firm grip, and forced her to meet his steady, probing gaze. “You’re getting to be a terrible liar.”

Saber jerked her chin free. “I thought you were safe in bed, caveman. Why do you think I was stumbling around in the dark? I was being considerate. How was I supposed to know you were carrying on a clandestine meeting with the local harlot?” Furious, Saber sat up and switched on the dim lamp on her nightstand. “I can’t believe you actually tripped me and held a gun on me.”

“I can’t believe you behaved so stupidly. If I had been an intruder, you’d be dead right now,” he bit back, dark eyes glittering.

“Well, maybe I knew it was you all along. Did that ever occur to you?” Saber jumped up, putting distance between them.

“Like hell you did.”

“Don’t you dare get mad at me. I wasn’t the one pointing a gun at
your
head. I didn’t even know you had a gun in the house. I hate guns,” she declared. But she knew how to use them. She could break one down and put it back together in seconds, less than that when needed. She was fast, efficient, deadly.

“So I noticed.” He smiled in spite of himself.

She paced the length of the room with the familiar flowing grace of a ballet dancer. “Well, just who did you think I was, some private investigator hired by that woman’s husband?”

Jess didn’t even blink. “I don’t know what you imagined you saw,” he began.

“I saw a woman. She ducked into the shadows,” Saber was adamant.

“It happened so fast, honey, and you were frightened.”

“Hit the big slide, Jesse,” Saber said rudely.

“I’m not exactly certain what that means.”

“Don’t you laugh. Don’t you
dare
laugh. It means go to hell, and for your information, I wasn’t that scared. I
know
I saw a woman.” She crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her head to scowl at him. “Not that I blame you for wanting to deny her existence. Her dog probably wants to deny her existence. But I know what I saw.”

“Okay, okay,” he said soothingly. “You saw a woman hiding in our living room, I believe you. Now get out of those clothes and into your night things.”

Saber glared at him. “You’re patronizing me, pretending to pretend to believe me.”

His eyebrow shot up. “This is far too complicated to sort out with you so ill. I can’t even follow the logic of that. If it makes you feel better I’ll close my eyes.”

She considered throwing things at him, but her head was pounding and she was unbearably hot. “So keep them closed,” she ordered and stalked into the bathroom.

Saber was observant; he had to hand it to her, although it shouldn’t surprise him. She was running a high fever, was terrified of the dark, and must have been even more so by his unexpected assault. Yet she had noticed that whisper of movement in the darkest corner of the room. And her movements had been calm enough, calculated, and might have worked on someone with less training.

She emerged, clad in a long T-shirt reaching halfway to her knees, looking more beautiful than ever. “Are you still here?” she demanded as she flounced across the floor to fling herself on the bed.

“Did you take aspirin?”

“Yes.” She made a face at him to show him he wasn’t forgiven. “Are you happy?”

Jess sighed softly. “You’re still angry with me.”

Saber curled up in a little ball, facing away from him, actually hunching a shoulder. “You think?”

It took one powerful motion of his incredibly strong arms and Jess had shifted himself from his chair to her bed. Saber’s slender body stiffened as he stretched out beside her, but she didn’t protest.

He pulled her close, fitting her into his shoulder, amazed at how soft her skin was, how fragile and small she appeared next to him. He reached out a lazy hand to snap off the lamp.

“Don’t.”

“It’s time for you to sleep, baby,” he prompted, plunging the room into darkness with a quick flick of his fingers.

Instantly he felt the shudder run through her body. “I sleep with the light on.”

“Not tonight. Tonight you sleep in my arms, knowing I’ll keep you safe.” He stroked her hair tenderly.