Conspiracy Game (GhostWalkers, #4)(48)

“Something went wrong?” Tyrel prodded when Jebediah fell silent.

Jebediah smiled, but the amusement didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You could say that. A guy came out of the ground, practically in my face. I swear his knife was the size of Texas. I didn’t even hear the shot, my heart was pounding so loud, but I saw the hole right in the middle of his forehead. Jack took him out before he could finish his first slash with the knife. Later, I thanked him for saving my butt and he just shrugged. Never said a word to anyone about it. He probably saved a lot of us that day.”

“He said I was a liability.”

Tyrel’s head jerked up. “He doesn’t deserve you, Briony.”

“It still hurts.”

“Of course it does, honey,” Jebediah said. “But it’s for the best. Life with Jack would be difficult at best. He’s not a man easy to be around. I don’t know why he was so good with you, but that isn’t the norm. He’d go days without speaking a single word. His brother, Ken, joked around some, but not Jack. He never seemed to sleep. Some of the guys liked to play pranks, but the smart ones knew better than to try to creep into Jack’s area. More than one found themselves on the floor with a knife to the throat, and he wasn’t gentle about it. You ever look into his eyes and you could see death there.” Jebediah spread his hands out. “You wouldn’t want to raise your child with him, honey. You want a place where there’s laughter and joy. We’ll help you. You know we love you and want you with us.”

“I feel very lucky to have you all. Thanks, Jeb. It was very sweet of you to tell me about Jack. It’s something for the baby, you know. I don’t know much about him.”

“I know a little,” Jebediah admitted. “I’ll tell the baby Jack stories.”

“The rain is so loud,” Tyrel complained. He rubbed his head, his bandages very white in the dimly lit room. “I’m tired tonight.”

The rain was loud—too loud. A small alarm bell went off in Briony’s head. Somewhere, a window or door in the house was open, allowing the force of the storm to penetrate into the villa. Her gaze jumped to her two brothers. Both had gone very still, awareness hitting them at the same time.

Wake up! Seth! Ruben! Danger! She sent the warning with as hard a push as possible, hoping she penetrated their sleep.

Jebediah touched Tyrel, gesturing him toward the back of the villa, where Seth and Ruben were sleeping in the guest rooms. He signaled Briony, and she rose in silence and followed him into the hall. As she passed the small room where she was supposed to sleep, she caught up her backpack and shrugged into it, wincing as the strap scraped over her bandages.

Jebediah pushed her in front of him, pointing with three fingers toward the left hall leading to the courtyard. Briony crept to the wide, lace-covered doors and willed them not to creak as she pushed them open. At once the rain poured in, driven by the ferocious wind. At his tap on her shoulder, she turned to look at her brother.

Jebediah leaned close, put his mouth to her ear. “Get to the car.”

She knew he was going back for her brothers. Tyrel was going to wake them, but they should have been right behind them. Tyrel would have got them moving immediately, yet there was no sign of any of them. She hesitated, but Jebediah pushed her toward the night—the shadows. At his urging, Briony slipped into the courtyard among the overgrown shrubs and the windbent trees.

She took on the colors of the night, the stripes of shadow, black and green and a multitude of shades of gray. She moved with the wind, matching the flow of energy as leaves and twigs swirled around her in the midst of the storm. The mosaic tiles were slippery, so she abandoned the path and took to the grass and shrubbery, trying to avoid the branches as they swayed, reaching out with thorny brambles to catch her clothing. She was only steps away from the small hidden spot where Jebediah had secreted the car when the wind shifted subtly.

She caught a familiar scent and halted, looking around, trying to find her enemy. He was close. She could smell him, knew him by the mixture of sweat and cologne he’d worn in Sparks’s office. He wasn’t masking it, and she glanced up just as Luther leapt from the roof. He was blindingly fast, giving her little time to react. The best she could do was take one step to the side and strike him as hard as she could, hoping to knock his legs out from under him so he’d fall.

Luther caught her hair in his fist as he went down, dragging her backward with him so that she landed heavily on top of him. “I’m running out of patience with you,” he snarled. “Behave before I do something we’ll both regret.”

She slammed her elbows into his ribs, followed with the back of her head to his face. He jerked his head out of the way just in time, but she was already rolling back from him, scrambling to come to her feet. “Stay away from me.”

He feinted to his left and jumped to his feet, landing in a crouching position, his fist streaking out too fast to block. She tried to slip the punch, whipping her head to the side, but he hit her hard enough to send stars dancing momentarily in front of her eyes. Briony staggered back, slipped on the tiles, feet going out from under her, and went down.

Luther was on her in seconds, pinning her down, hand over her mouth. “Damn it, you gave me no choice. Stop fighting me. I was careful not to hurt you, but you keep this up and it’s going to happen.”

Briony went still. He was incredibly strong, and the more she struggled, the tighter he held her. She tried to curl into a ball; an attempt to protect the baby.