Ruthless Game (GhostWalkers, #9)(4)

Kane took a deep breath and moved around to the window opening onto a small side yard. He could see why Rose chose this apartment. She had alternative escape routes. He didn’t make the mistake of stepping up to the window. Rose was a highly trained GhostWalker. She had survival skills. She was expecting him to come through the front door, a representative of the unit she’d called in to rescue important prisoners the drug cartel was using as hostages against el presidente.

It took a few minutes to spot the small shards of glass scattered in the dirt and leaves. He cleared the area meticulously, knowing the sound of breaking glass would alert her instantly. Like most of the GhostWalkers, her hearing was enhanced as well as her vision. Her window wouldn’t be nailed shut because she would need a quick escape, but she would have it rigged for visitors. It opened sideways, rather than up, a turn knob on the inside.

Clever girl, he mused silently. He pulled a mini laser cutter from his tool kit and, after attaching the suction cup, carefully cut the glass. The suction cup was silent, drawing out the circle of glass without a sound. He reached in and slowly greased the knob to ensure continued silence. Only then did he twist the knob enough to crack the window. Tiny pieces of glass clung to the edges of the sill as the window slowly opened.

Kane smiled to himself. Yeah. His woman knew how to take care of herself. He reached through the opening, avoiding the glass, and opened it wide enough to allow him entrance. Again he waited until he had found the small strobe trigger before easing his large body through the opening. It was no easy feat, not with the glass sticking out.

As he stepped down silently onto the floor, he projected the sound of slow, deliberate footsteps coming up the sidewalk to the front of her apartment. He muffled his own tread, moving through the sparse room to the open doorway. A small pack was on a chair just to the left of her where she could grab it and run should the wrong person come through the door. Rose had her back to him. She was shorter than he remembered. Her body from the back didn’t look pregnant. His heart thudded once at the thought that she might have lost the baby.

She wore jeans and a long tunic top. Her hair was cut short and sassy, a thick cap of shiny, midnight black hair. The memory of the feel of it, soft like silk, bunched in his fist, washed over him, stealing his breath. For a moment, the sight of her shook him.

He inhaled deeply in an effort to drag the fragrance of her deep into his lungs. He could actually feel her soft skin sliding against his, taste her in his mouth. Rose. He would never forget the way she looked up at him with her enormous eyes, so dark brown there was no gold whatsoever in them. Long lashes, black as night, framed those deep chocolate eyes, and she had stared straight into his eyes without flinching away, absolving him of all blame, but damn it all, she’d had no choice. None.

Kane drew another breath as he shoved the memory away ruthlessly. He was a big man, dwarfing her in size, all flowing muscle, his height proportionate with his weight and not an ounce of fat. He loomed over her, nothing more than a shadow, his arms coming around her from behind to take her weapon, and in one smooth motion, he tossed it on the broken-down couch. She tried to whirl around, going for his instep, but his arms became a steel cage, trapping her. His hands settled over her midsection and shockingly, she was round, like a basketball. His heart, after one heavy thump, settled into a satisfied rhythm.

“Shh, Rose,” he said gently, trying to breathe calm into her. Her breathing had gone ragged. “There’s a gun trained on you. Don’t pull another weapon. Just stay still.”

Under the palm of his hand, he felt the small rounded belly and a peculiar push as if the baby kicked him, trying to protect his mother. The sheer relief and satisfaction that she carried his child shocked him a little. “No one is going to hurt you.” And they wouldn’t, not ever again. She carried his baby, and no matter what else, the child would always connect them.

Rose went still. She didn’t turn her head but remained tense, her hands gripping his wrists as if to pry them from the slight swell of her belly. “Kane?”

He felt the tension coiling in her, not rigid and tense, but the coil of a snake about to attack. “I’m here, honey. No one wants to hurt you. Just stay still, and we’ll sort this out without anyone getting hurt.”

“I won’t go back. He can’t have my baby.” The statement was delivered in a quiet voice, but he believed her. Rose might look like a little Asian pixie, but she had a spine of steel. She had thwarted Whitney each time he’d sent a man to impregnate her. She’d fought until they feared they might kill her, and she was a vicious fighter. More than one man had been in the infirmary after a round with her.

“Our baby,” he corrected, and the rightness of it took some of the knots out of his belly. “You want to tell me why you didn’t look pregnant? How did you manage that?”

“I’m not without my own skills. I can camouflage when I need to. I felt all of you the moment you got close. Whitney isn’t getting my baby. He doesn’t know for certain yet that I’m pregnant, and I’m keeping it that way.”

“Whitney didn’t send me after you. I don’t take orders from him. We reported his experiments, and he’s gone into hiding. I’ve searched for you ever since you disappeared.”

She had begun to relax, but at his words she tensed again.

“To help you, Rose,” he explained hastily. “I was the one who helped you escape, remember? I’m not about to hand you over to the enemy.”