Conspiracy Game (GhostWalkers, #4)(84)

“That’s about right,” Jack agreed. “Ken and I can handle boys, Briony, but no girls, so keep that in mind when you have these babies.”

She patted his hand. “I hate to be the one to give you the bad news, but you determine the sex of the baby, so if we have a girl, it’s all your fault.”

The touch of her hand, light and teasing over his, squeezed the air out of his lungs. He stared up at the ceiling and wondered how he’d gotten so lucky, to have her in his home, in his bed, lying in the dark teasing him. It didn’t seem possible. His life was what he’d chosen and he had no complaints. He was used to silence. To being alone. There were days when he didn’t talk to another human being, and weeks when he went without conversing with anyone other than Ken. He had always thought of himself as solitary—it was safer for everyone that way—but now, with Briony lying beside him, her body warm and soft and her scent teasing his senses, he felt an odd sense of peace.

“Strange thing.” He made the confession aloud, not knowing why, but wanting her to know. “I’ve never actually relaxed with anyone around, not enough to sleep. Even out in the field, I have to move away from everyone or I don’t close my eyes—but you relax me. Before, when we were together, first I thought it was exhaustion, and then the sex, but it’s you.” He pressed his hand over his heart. “It’s just you.”

She was going to rip him apart when she tried to leave him, and it would come—maybe not now, or a month from now, but sooner or later, his domineering ways would make her need to rebel. She couldn’t understand the demons that drove him. Hell, he couldn’t—why should he expect that she would?

“I thought I could relax with you because you shield me from emotion, but that’s not the reason either.” She turned toward him, her fingers brushing his face as if she could read his expression. “You don’t think Whitney could do that too, do you?”

“No.” His voice turned grim. “Whitney doesn’t want to make it easy on anyone, Briony. He could have kept you with an anchor, but he deliberately put you with a family where you’d be out in the public on a daily basis. You had to interact. That was on purpose, for his little experiments. What were you made of? Could you find a way to overcome the pain? Overcome your differences living in a normal family? Bastard. He knew you were going to suffer every damn day of your life—and that there was every possibility your family would reject you eventually.”

“They thought I was autistic at first. Mom would hold me, and I felt everything she was feeling, knew what she was thinking, and it hurt so bad. I used to curl up in a ball under my bed and hide. She cried and cried, and I knew I was failing her.”

His hand found her hair. “That’s bullshit, baby. You’ve never failed anyone in your life. You did whatever it took to live in that family and fit in. Whitney needs someone to cap his ass.”

Briony snuggled closer to him, so close he could feel her breath against his chest. “Well, don’t do it tonight. I’m thinking I’m going to have nightmares about little boys running wild in the forest and me chasing them all. If I wake up screaming, it’s your fault.”

He loved the soft, drowsy note in her voice; it was as sexy as could be. What would it be like to be normal? He didn’t know. Ken didn’t know. And he doubted if Briony would ever know. But she was with him now, and he could wrap his arms around her, and somehow the memories of blood and death seemed far away.





CHAPTER 14





“Oh you angel!” Ken leaned across the table and pressed a kiss to Briony’s temple. “Who knew the woman liked to cook? Marry me right now. We’ll run away together.”

“Get the hell off of her,” Jack said, his tone mild. He forked another bite of fluffy omelet into his mouth. “I had the good sense to get her pregnant, so you can just back off.”

“Good food and a beautiful woman haven’t improved your disposition much,” Ken grumbled. “And having a baby hasn’t improved your language either.”

“Not one baby,” Jack corrected, “two.”

Briony laughed softly, shaking her head at him. There was a note of pride in his voice he hadn’t bothered to conceal—one totally at odds with his tough, scarred features. “You’re so conceited.”

The sound of her laughter slid over his skin like fingers trailing over his nerve endings, stirring his body into yet another erection. He could sit across from her every morning, drinking in her tousled hair and her bright eyes and sunny smile. Even if Ken was deliberately provoking him by making goo-goo eyes at her.

“Well if you’re going to insist on twins every time I get pregnant, this is it, buster,” she said and reached over to pour coffee into Ken’s cup.

“Even your coffee is great,” Ken said.

Briony’s eyebrows drew together in a frown. “How would I know? Every time I try to sneak a cup, your brother dumps it down the sink.”

Jack lifted the book he had open at the table. “It says right here, caffeine isn’t good for you or the baby. And we need fresh fruit, not juice. Do you have any idea of the amount of calcium you need?”

She yanked the book out of his hand and flung it across the room hard enough that it hit the wall. “You’ve got to stop reading from the Book of Satan. You’re clearly becoming obsessed.”