Ruthless Game (GhostWalkers, #9)(52)

She saw his jaw harden. His eyes went so bleak and cold she shivered. There were depths to Kane she didn’t know yet. He looked unyielding, but he took a step toward her, wrapped his hand around the nape of her neck, forcing her to step into him. She smelled him, that faint masculine scent that was all outdoors and predator. The scent enveloped her. Her heart skidded to a halt and then began to pound. He lowered his head and took possession of her mouth.

Her body, of its own accord, melted into his. She felt every single weapon imprinted on her skin, but most of all, she felt the explosion of heat from his mouth to hers. Fire raced down her throat and entered her bloodstream, melting her from the inside out. When he lifted his head, she stared at him a little dazzled, uncertain what to think or even how to think.

“Get the baby ready to leave. Follow the tunnel to the end and check out the Humvee in case we need it. Pack supplies and everything warm you can for Sebastian. Choose weapons we both can handle with as many rounds of ammo you can find for them. Don’t forget water.”

“What are you doing?”

“Whatever is necessary. You’re a soldier. Figure it out.” He turned and left her standing there, her heart pounding.

There was no arguing with him. She recognized that now. He’d been malleable and sweet, but only up to a point. Kane had his own brand of honor, and no one—not even her—was going to deter him when he felt he was right. She should have known. She recognized a dangerous man when she saw one, and she had chosen him in part because he was dangerous—she knew if she got away from Whitney, Kane would fight with his last breath to keep her safe. Now that she’d seen what that entailed, she couldn’t very well be angry at him.

She ran to the door, stopping him right before he opened it. “Kane.”

He turned to look at her with his piercing, implacable eyes.

“Be safe. Come back to us.”

“No worries, sweetheart.”

Kane flashed Rose a smile and slipped out into the night where he belonged. There was freedom in darkness. He was born to rule the night. He looked up at the night sky. Stars were everywhere, and he could see the thick swirling ribbon that was the Milky Way. The tight knots that had developed when Rose argued with him unraveled, and everything in him settled. This was his world. He was familiar with it, comfortable in it. This was where he belonged.

Now that he’d made up his mind, there was no hesitation. Rose couldn’t live with Fargo’s actions, and that meant both Carlson and Fargo died tonight. Carlson had to go first, because no matter how good a soldier Rose was, she was first and foremost his woman, and that meant he protected her whether she liked it or not. That was the biggest part of his personality, and she’d better understand it wasn’t going away because she was a capable—even brilliant—soldier. He would never knowingly expose her to danger and certainly not a week after she’d given birth.

He shook his head at the peculiarities of women. He would never understand Rose, not if they lived together a million years, and he could see that she was having the same problem understanding him. Was it like that with all men and women? Or just men like him? He could be a first-class bastard if the situation called for it. He didn’t have a lot of experience in relationships. He’d avoided entanglements until he’d seen Rose looking at him through her window. She had become his princess in the tower, and he was the white knight to the rescue.

Kane began to run, the easy, steady pace he could keep for hours if need be. He was familiar with the terrain now, having gone over it three times in every twenty-four-hour period for a week. He knew every boulder and shrub. He knew every patch of saw grass and the dark, rich patches that indicated an underground source of water.

He approached the enemy camp from the south, staying downwind. He could see a faint light but couldn’t see the source immediately. Dropping lower, so as not to skyline himself, he slowed his pace, moving with stealth as he stalked his prey. The overpowering stench of blood hit him as he reached the top of the slope overlooking the base camp.

Carlson and Fargo had tucked their camp between slopes, enabling them to have a fire when they wanted to, as well as shelter. Unless you came right up on them, the site was impossible to see. Empty bottles were strewn around on the ground. This was no soldier’s encampment, rather it looked like a couple of men enjoying a vacation.

Great globs of blood left a trail in the sand, dark, obscene smear marks that led toward the faint flickering light. An agonized scream, animalistic, impossible to identify, sent chills down Kane’s spine. He’d seen men tortured and had been on the receiving end a time or two and knew that sound. Laughter rang out, then the low murmur of a voice.

“Hey, don’t die on me. It’s going to be a long night before the real entertainment gets here. You’re helping me out, suffering for a good cause and all. A little pain is good for the soul. I need something to make me feel good. My little whore of a woman is about to have another man’s baby, and I’m pissed.”

The terrible squeal came again, more animal than man. The sound made the hairs on Kane’s neck stand up. The stench was awful. Carlson was a sadistic bastard. If torturing a man—or an animal—made him feel better, something was seriously off about the man.

A part of Kane had actually felt a little sorry for him. He knew what it was like to crave Rose, to think about her night and day, to dream of her when he managed to close his eyes and nothing—no one else—was going to sate the ever-present hunger for her body. Kane knew he could have sex with hundreds of women, and none of them would ever satisfy him again. He’d accepted that premise when he’d signed on to be paired with her. Had Carlson had a choice as well? It didn’t matter now. All that mattered now was stopping the son of a bitch.