Predatory Game (GhostWalkers, #6)(34)

“This can’t be,” Saber said. “I have to go, Jess. Things are getting out of hand and I can’t control them. I don’t want to control them.”

As she started her retreating move, Jess’s hand snaked out with lightening speed and shackled her wrist. “Oh, no you don’t, baby, you’re not getting away from me.” His grip was immensely strong, but he didn’t hurt her—he never did.

Blue eyes flew, startled, to his dark ones. Dragon king, she always called him. He was wreaking havoc on all her senses. “Jesse,” she made a breathless little protest, already feeling lost.

“It’s too late, Saber. You’re in love with me, you’re just too damned stubborn to admit it to yourself.”

“No, no, Jesse, I’m not.” She sounded more frightened than convinced.

“Sure you are.” Relentlessly, he drew her back to him until she was so close the heat between them threatened to erupt into flames. Beneath his hands he could feel her trembling. “Think about it, honey. Who makes you laugh? Who makes you happy? Who do you run to when you have a problem?” His fingers found the nape of her neck, sending little tongues of fire licking along her spine.

She took a deep steadying breath. “It doesn’t matter. Even if you’re right, which you’re not, it wouldn’t matter. I have to leave.”

His fingers curled over her shoulders, gave her the gentlest of exasperated shakes. “Stop saying that. I don’t want to hear it again. Don’t you think I’m aware you have some deep, dark secret in your past? Somebody you’re running from? That’s what doesn’t matter. You belong here, Saber. In Sheridan, Wyoming, with me, in my home, right by my side.”

She went pale. “You don’t know what you’re saying. Jesse, I don’t have any deep, dark secrets, I just like to travel. I can’t help myself. I just get restless and pick up and go.” He knew. He knew about her. How? Or maybe he didn’t. Maybe she was panicking and he really thought she had a creep for an ex-husband and she was hiding from him. Let it be that. Please, please, let it be that.

He released her with a smile. “You can’t lie worth a damn, Saber.”

“Really?” She stuck her chin out at him. “Well neither can you. You have a few deep dark secrets of your own.”

He nodded. “I’ll admit it. I have a high security clearance and can’t talk about my work much, but that shouldn’t affect the two of us or our relationship.”

He was admitting it. Her heart went into overdrive, pounding so hard she pressed a hand to her chest to alleviate the ache. He was a GhostWalker, highly trained in dealing death. And he was skilled in psychic abilities. Wheelchair or not, she wasn’t safe with him. Pressing her lips together, she ducked her head. She didn’t want to pursue the matter any further. Not now. Not today. Most of her life was pretense. This was her one chance at a day with Jess. The only one she might ever have.

Jess could sense the panic in her, the confusion and reluctance. He sighed and let it go. “We’ll drop it for now. Just make me a promise; give me your word of honor you won’t ever try to leave without discussing it first with me.”

“You won’t discuss it,” she said in frustration. “You’ll stop me.”

“Promise me.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Saber.” He tapped her chin with his index finger.

“Oh, all right. I promise,” she gave in with bad grace. “I’m hungry. I didn’t have breakfast, lunch, or anything else in between. Are you going to feed me or what?”

Jess would take his small victory. Backing off, giving her space, seemed the lesser of two evils. Saber’s mood swings were mercurial. He could easily read her rising panic. He needed to soothe her, alleviate her fears. She was desperately hiding the truth from him, but it didn’t matter, because he already knew she had to be one of Peter Whitney’s experiments.

Whitney had taken girls from orphanages around the world, kept them locked up, and performed psychic and genetic experiments on them long before he had done the same to grown servicemen. He’d given them the names of flowers and of seasons—Winter. She used the name Saber Wynter. Winter was more than likely what Whitney had called her.

He had entered the GhostWalker program of his own free will. And he’d known when he’d made the decision to enhance his psychic abilities that he would remain government property for the rest of his life. Wheelchair or not, he was still a powerful and dangerous weapon. No one was going to just forget about him and let him live his life out in peace. He had agreed to the bionics experiment partly for that reason.

Okay. He’d agreed to it because he missed the action of combat. Riding a desk just wasn’t his thing and never would be. But then along came Saber and he suddenly wasn’t thinking about saving the world anymore. Settling down seemed much more appealing, and she’d been with him long enough now that he couldn’t imagine his life without her. But he’d made the choice as a grown man. Whitney had taken these girls, these infants, and instead of giving them a decent home, he’d made them into science projects.

He felt the hot surge of anger and deliberately forced it down. “You’re closest to the picnic basket, angel face,” he said very gently. “Pass me a sandwich.”

Saber, grateful for the change of subject, dug into the wicker basket. “Cream cheese?”