Conspiracy Game (GhostWalkers, #4)(106)

He inhaled, pressing his face into her neck. “You stink of him. You slept with that killer. That’s all he is—all he knows. He’s no soldier. He doesn’t understand loyalty to the unit. He’s a killer and you’re carrying his baby. You’re going to a doctor before we get you to the lab, and you’re getting rid of it. You’ll tell them you lost the baby. Understand? If you don’t, your life is going to be hell for a very long time. I’m tempted to cut the thing out of you myself, just like you did the tracking disc.”

Briony couldn’t stop the shudder that ran through her as his hands wandered over her body. He kissed the side of her neck, bit her shoulder hard, a punishment for her sins. “You were always meant to be mine—never his. Why they wanted his child, I’ll never know, but they aren’t going to get it. I’m not going to be able to wait long for you, but I at least want his stench washed off.”

He was pressed up tight against her, so tight she felt him rock solid, his hands exploring her flesh. The sound of gunfire echoed through the night, off in the distance, and she knew Jack was still far away.

She shouldn’t react. If she showed Luther how much she detested his hands on her, he might beat her and force a miscarriage, but his tongue lapped at her neck and his hands crept up her shirt to grab her breasts, and she couldn’t stop herself.

“I know what you’re thinking, and you don’t want to try it, Briony. You’re tough enough, but in a fight, I’d take you every time. You’re not mean enough. I’ve studied you, every training tape they have of you, every move you have.” His lips traveled up to the lobe of her ear and his hand cupped the weight of her breast.

For one small moment she tried to understand what it was like for him, driven by Whitney’s diabolical mind to pursue her, needing to pursue her because his body made relentless demands. No other woman was going to satisfy him ever. Why couldn’t Luther see he was every bit a victim as she was—as Jack was—her sister and probably Brett? Whitney moved them all around like pieces on a chessboard.

Luther shoved up her shirt and lowered his mouth to her breast, the urgent needs of his body overcoming all reasoning.

Briony stomped down on his foot as hard as she could, kicking back to drive her heel into his knee. She missed the knee, but hit his shin. He grunted in pain, but his hands tightened to try to hold on to her. Bending forward, she caught him around the neck and threw him, using her back to roll him off of her. Luther hung on to her wrist grimly as he sailed over her head, yanking her arm nearly out of its socket as he somersaulted and hit the ground. She fell facedown and tried to roll at the last moment, instinctively protecting the babies.

The air left her lungs in a rush, and she drew up one leg as Luther lunged to pin her. She tried for his crotch, kicking out hard, but he turned enough to take the numbing blow in his thigh. He swore, doubling his fist and smashing it into her face. Briony saw stars, her left eye swelling so fast she lost vision immediately. Closing off all pain, she pushed up as he sat on her, rising to meet him, trying to get his weight off her stomach. Deliberately he shoved his knee into her hip, grinding down on the stitches she’d put there.

“Damn you, I told you not to try to get rough with me. You can’t win. Do you have any idea how much I could hurt you if I used my full strength? That was just me teaching you a little lesson.”

She shoved at his chest, his leg, doubling her fists and beating at him in an effort to get him off of her.

Stay down! Stay down.

Jack’s voice moved through her head, nearly lost in the adrenaline and fear for her children. She hesitated and then dropped back to the ground. Warned by that small uncertainty, Luther threw himself off of her, rolling away as the bullet tore through his shoulder, where his head had been. He kept rolling away from her, into the mine entrance.

Briony scrambled on all fours toward the thicker cover of the woods. Her eye was swollen, keeping her from seeing properly. Hard hands caught at her and she fought, swinging wildly.

“Baby, it’s me. You’re safe. You’re safe now.” Jack enfolded her in his arms, tight against his chest. She could smell his scent, hear his heartbeat. He pulled back to look down at her. “Fuck! Son of a bitch!” He caught her close again and then pushed her toward Ken, turning his head toward the mine, his eyes glacier-cold.

“No!” Briony caught his arm and tried to pull him back to her. “He knows where she is. I have a sister. He knows where she is, Jack.”

Jack didn’t even turn his head to look back at her as he ran toward the mine.

“Jack! Please!”

You jackass. You’re not thinking. Ken launched himself at his brother. You don’t track a wounded bear into his lair, no matter how much he needs killing. He hit Jack low, at the knees, and brought him down as gunfire erupted from the mine.

Get the f*ck off me!

You have a foul mouth. Get your head out of your ass, Jack. Briony’s been through enough, and she doesn’t need to see you die because you’re going off half-cocked. Let’s get the hell out of here. We can track the bastard later.

Did you see what that son of a bitch did to her?

I saw. We’ll get him—just not now. She needs you thinking, Jack.

Jack took a breath—reached for calm. Anything to do with Briony seemed to shatter his composure, but the sight of her swelling face and blood soaking through her jeans and shirt on one side… He shoved Ken off of him and crawled through the brush back toward Briony.