Ruthless Game (GhostWalkers, #9)(14)
“Climb back up here. We’re going to have to jump.”
She stated it so calmly he almost didn’t comprehend. His head snapped around. “Are you out of your f*cking mind, Rose? You’re pregnant. You can’t jump out of a moving car.”
“Well, it’s that or go with it into the ravine. I prefer the sand. Move it, soldier. You’ve got about fifteen seconds.”
She wasn’t kidding. The woman was insane, already opening the driver’s door and bailing before he could stop her. Kane kicked open the backseat passenger door and dove. He hit hard and rolled, his lungs burning for air. The sand clogged his mouth and he spit, staring up at the night sky, wondering what the hell had just happened.
The sedan continued forward, shooting off the cliff to fall into the deep ravine carved from hundreds of years of flash floods. He heard the crash as it bounced off rocks and scrub trees, but strangely, the sound was somewhat muffled. He rolled over and came up on his knees, looking frantically around for Rose. She lay thirty feet from him in a fetal position, knees drawn up to her chest, her hands locked around them. His heart jolted hard.
He ran to her and crouched down beside her. “Rose?”
He swore he could hear each separate beat of his heart. She groaned softly, and he let out his breath. She slowly turned onto her back. Blood smeared her face from the sand burning it as she hit the ground. She’d obviously covered her belly instead of her face. Her breathing was loud and ragged as she fought for air.
“Don’t move, Rose.” His voice sounded strangled. Without the enhancements of her illusions, she looked like a broken doll, smashed on the sand. His first instinct was to gather her in his arms and just cradle her against him where she’d be safe, but it was too late for that.
“Give me a minute,” she gasped.
Pain didn’t show on her face, but it was there in her eyes. And fear. She was very frightened. He smoothed back her hair. “Don’t be afraid, Rose. I’m not going to let anything happen to you or the baby.”
She swallowed hard and let out her breath. “I’m counting on that.”
He could feel the tension ebbing out of her. Grateful that she was beginning to trust him a little, he swept his arm around her shoulders to help ease her into a sitting position.
She managed a small smile. “I think I should have thought that particular part of the plan through a little better.” She looked around her. “We’ve got to get moving. I’m hoping we can disturb the sand enough to cover our tracks, and they’ll think we went into the ravine with the car.”
Kane looked around him. Sand stretched out for miles. “This could be bad, Rose. The farther we get away from the city, the more chances are we’ll get caught out in the open.”
“Not if you know where you’re going.”
He sighed and reached down to help her to her feet. She swayed unsteadily and clung to him. That small show of fragility shook him. Rose was such a mixture both ultra-feminine and ultrasoldier. She didn’t flinch from combat, yet she leaned into him, so soft and vulnerable, his heart ached.
“Enlighten me.” He sounded gruff, but she’d twisted his insides up, and he wasn’t certain how to react to her. He damn well wasn’t going to force himself on her ever again, but just being close to her made him feel different inside.
She moved, a soft, subtle, very feminine retreat. He felt something hard press against his chest, right over his heart, and he stiffened, glancing down at the barrel of the gun and the absolute steadiness in her small hand. His gaze jumped to hers. Her eyes stared without blinking, no hesitation. The woman meant business. So much for soft and feminine. Fury burst through him, but he didn’t move, didn’t show her anything at all.
“Throw it away, Kane. You’re either with me or against me. If you’re with me, throw the tracker into the ravine.”
There was nothing sweet about her voice. He considered wrapping his long fingers around her neck and strangling her right there.
“If I throw the tracker into the ravine, we have no resources—no backup. They’ll come get us in a few days. We just have to lay low.”
She still didn’t blink. “This child is never going to fall into Whitney’s hands. Not ever. I need help, Kane, and I’m willing to trust you, but only you. You have to make a decision.”
Fury knotted the muscles in his belly. Anyone who knew him would have been alarmed by his calm demeanor and the cool, flat look in his eyes. “What are you going to do, Rose? Shoot me?” His voice dropped lower than ever, softer, even more deceptive. “You’re going to shoot the father of your child?”
She blinked. He slapped the gun away, turning sideways to present a smaller target. His fingers closed in a brutal grip around her wrist and he twisted, dropping her to her knees, extracting the gun from her fist and holding her locked in position. With one hand he engaged the safety and shoved the gun into his belt.
“You ever point a gun at me again, Rose, pull the f*cking trigger. Do we understand each other?” He chose not to look at the pain on her face or the tears swimming, turning those dark eyes to soft, melting chocolate. He didn’t let up on the pressure on her wrist. If she moved, it would break. They both knew it. “You don’t know me, Rose. You just think you do. I’m not the sweet, malleable man you took me for. You aren’t going to manipulate me.”