Conspiracy Game (GhostWalkers, #4)(83)

Ken grinned unrepentantly. “Should I order you milk, Briony?” He turned to go to the bar.

“You do and I’m going to prove to you that I’m enhanced.” Briony heard his laughter as Jack ushered her toward a booth near the back where he had a clear view of the room. The crowd parted like the Red Sea as he walked through.

“You really don’t like it here, do you?” she asked. She had to sit close to him in order to be heard above the music and the noise of the crowd.

“Too many variables. All it takes is one really drunk cowboy and things are going to go to hell fast.”

She patted his thigh. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

He looked so startled she couldn’t help but smirk. At once he relaxed, taking her hand. “I do enjoy watching Ken have fun. He loves country music. He plays the guitar and sings like you wouldn’t believe. Don’t tell him, but he has a good voice—really good. Before Ekabela had him tortured, all the women flocked around him like bees to honey.”

“And now?” She watched Ken. He didn’t look at the women. He sat on a bar stool and talked to the bartender, and after bringing them both drinks—hers Coke—he talked to several men who were obviously friends. He didn’t look like he had a care in the world, but she knew differently when Jack took her hand and nearly broke her bones squeezing it.

Can you feel him? He tries to shut me out, but this is hell. Still he makes himself come here. He doesn’t have retreat in him. See why I admire him?

There were a lot of reasons to admire Ken. Watching him make the rounds, she sat quietly enjoying the music, holding Jack’s hand, all the while feeling the warmth of his body so close to hers. Ken took about an hour and then slipped into the booth and waved them onto the dance floor.

“You sure, baby,” Jack asked. “You don’t have to, if you’re tired.”

“I’d love to dance with you.” She wasn’t certain why he looked so leery until she slipped into his arms.

His scent enveloped her, his arms surrounded her, and his chest felt real and solid beneath her cheek. His body responded to her nearness with a tight fullness pressed close to her belly. It was a slow, dreamy song, and she let herself drift in a haze of need and lust, of urgent desire, matching the sway of his body, finding a perfect rhythm with his body. It was a moment in time no one could ever take away from her.

His hands held hers while he guided her through the swaying crowd. He bent his head to brush his mouth along her temple. She’d never danced with a partner—she couldn’t touch anyone so intimately—but Jack was sure and strong and led her as if they’d been dancing forever.

She closed her eyes on the way home, not letting the conversation between the brothers take away from the experience. She was tired, but happy—in spite of the fact she was having twins. She must have fallen asleep, because she woke to Jack carrying her into the house.

Briony took a long bath, and when she came out, Jack was already lying on the bed, his hair still damp from a shower. She raised an eyebrow, but her body reacted immediately, breasts aching. Beneath the thin tank top, she felt her nipples peaking. “Are you sleeping here again tonight?”

He pulled back the covers. “It’s the only way I’m going to get any sleep. If you don’t want me in the bed, I’ll take the chair.”

“No, we managed last night.” She slipped between the covers, her heart beating a little too fast. “I’m going to have nightmares about babies everywhere.”

Jack rolled over and shoved the blankets off of her to expose her before pushing her tank top from her stomach. His hands passed over her rounded tummy, then surrounded it, and he bent forward to press his lips against her skin. “Hello in there. Come to attention. This is your father talking. Your mom’s a little afraid of this twin thing. We’re going to have to ease her into it, so don’t go kicking too hard at first. Give her a little time to adjust.”

“The baby book says the baby can hear and eventually recognize our voices, but not this early.”

“But they aren’t talking about our babies, Briony. They hear me. They know. And they aren’t going to be little soldiers for Whitney and his f*cked-up plans.”

Briony smiled. “If you’re really so sure they can hear you, stop swearing. They’ll come out saying the F word and I’ll tell the doctor you taught it to them.”

“Sorry. That was a slip, boys. Don’t be saying that word.”

“Boys?” She caught his head in her hands, forcing him to look up at her. “Not boys. Boys are difficult. They do all sorts of boy things.”

“Not girls, Briony. Can you see me trying to keep up with two little girls? And what happens when they get older and some boy wants to take them on a date?” He groaned and once again stretched out, turning on his side to prop himself up with one elbow. “I’d either lock the girls in closets or spend my life picking off hopeful horny teenagers.”

“Hopeful horny teenagers?” she echoed.

“We’d have to homeschool the girls and put up a twelve-foot barbwire electric fence complete with a security system.”

“Let me get this straight. If we have boys, they can run wild and be free, but our daughters will be locked up in closets and behind fences for all time.”