Night Game (GhostWalkers, #3)(81)
She paused by the door. “I don’t want to talk about anything important here.”
“We are going to talk about this.”
“I love it when you get all alpha male on me, Raoul.” She flashed a smile at him. “A lesser woman might be intimidated.” She disappeared into the small room, closing the door behind her. “Did you beat that nasty little weasel James Parsons into a bloody pulp for me?”
“Not yet. but he’s on the list. What the hell was going on in that car?” Gator looked down at his hands. He wanted to smash something. James Parsons would do.
“I think he was trying to drug me, as if I wasn’t already a mess, but it’s all a little hazy.”
“You smashed his head in with a glass.” Gator leapt off the bed as his grandmother entered the room.
“Did I? Good.” Flame’s voice purred with satisfaction. “He’s such a slimy little bastard.” She opened the door and came waltzing out, at least until she caught sight of Nonny. Color washed immediately through her face. “Nonny. I didn’t know you were here.” She sent Gator an I’m-going-to-strangle-you-with-my-bare-hands look before flashing a tentative smile. “Sorry about the language.”
“No bother. I raised me four boys and I’ve heard it all. Which slimy bastard were you talking about?”
* * *
CHAPTER 14
Someone had tried to fix up the cabin to make it less of a hunting cabin and more of a home. Flame suspected Nonny had paid a visit while they were gone. A homemade quilt, the craftsmanship beautiful, covered the bed there was a tablecloth on the small makeshift table.
“Are you tired? Do you need to get into bed?” Gator announced.
“It’s a broken arm. I’ve spent more time in bed than I ever have.” She wandered over to the window and looked out. “I love this place. The bayou is so peaceful. I think I love the nights like this the best.”
“We’re alone,” Gator announced.
She glanced at him over her shoulder. “I’m very much aware of that. You’re still angry with me.”
“Damn right I’m angry. You took off.” He threw his gloves and everything else in his hands on the table and crossed the room to stand behind her. “You know how casual you sounded when you told me you knew you were sick again?”
Flame turned to face him, resting her back against the wall. “There was no question that the cancer would come back. Dr. Whitney made certain of that.”
His gaze darkened. “You knew that?”
“Not at first, not until I realized he’d coordinated my escape.” She shrugged. “Oh, it wasn’t all that easy. I was kept in a laboratory in Colorado for years. I escaped when I was nineteen. He made certain my escape was difficult so he could record it and see what I could and couldn’t do. He soundproofed everything so I couldn’t use sound against him. He made it hard enough, but after I managed to get out, it occurred to me that he wanted me to escape. How else could he test me in the world? In the field? Unlike his beloved Lily, I wasn’t co operative. He didn’t give me any run of the mill cancer; he made up his own. He needed to find a way to ensure I would have to come back to him. It didn’t occur to him I’d be willing to die.”
There was absolute resolution in her voice. Gator felt something hard grab his heart and squeeze until he thought his chest might implode. “That’s not an option.” He forced the words out when his lungs burned for air.
“It’s the only option. I’m not ever going back where he can get his hands on me. He’s evil. I don’t care how much he spouts that his work is invaluable to science and will save thousands, maybe millions of lives. He’s evil.”
“Flame…”
“Don’t.” She cut him off, her features set. “I weighed my options before I ever escaped. I knew he wanted something from me and if I left, maybe I’d be giving it to him. He didn’t think I’d be smart enough to figure it all out. He placed a microchip in my body to track me. It was here.” She pushed the low-riding jeans his grand mother had bought for her down farther so he could see the arc of flames along her hipbone. The tattoo covered an ugly scar.
He heard a hoarse shout of protest echoing through his mind and for a moment was afraid he’d yelled out loud. He made himself breathe. “You cut the chip out of your body yourself.”
“Damn right I did.”
He wanted to hit something. Smash it. Drive his fists into something solid until he felt the physical pain. Maybe that would take away the churning rage and the terror of losing her.
“Raoul.” She leaned close to him, laid her hand gently, almost tenderly on his chest, right over his heart. Her voice was soft, so low he barely caught the words. “The cabin is shaking. You have to calm down.”
He let his breath out, his hand coming up to cover hers, pressing her palm closer to him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was losing control. You were just going to walk away, walk down that road and head out of town, weren’t you? Knowing you could die from an infection or from cancer. You were going to let it happen.”
“I was protecting you. Both of us, really, but you’re in an impossible position. You’re so…” She searched for the right word. “Gallant. I can’t let you lose everything you have in the world when there’s no saving me. It’s not logical.”
Christine Feehan's Books
- Christine Feehan
- Mind Game (GhostWalkers, #2)
- Street Game (GhostWalkers, #8)
- Spider Game (GhostWalkers, #12)
- Shadow Game (GhostWalkers, #1)
- Samurai Game (Ghostwalkers, #10)
- Ruthless Game (GhostWalkers, #9)
- Predatory Game (GhostWalkers, #6)
- Murder Game (GhostWalkers, #7)
- Deadly Game (GhostWalkers, #5)