Spider Game (GhostWalkers, #12)(122)

The song ended, and Trap transferred his hold to Cayenne’s hand to lead her off the dance floor. Violet wasn’t taking any chances. She was right there on the edge, smiling directly at him. Making it clear she was waiting for him. He was known for his rudeness, but it was her invitation and he’d accepted it. He sauntered over to her, keeping Cayenne in close.


“Thank you for coming, Dr. Dawkins,” Violet said. “Or do you prefer to go by Johansson?”


Her little warning didn’t throw him. He felt Cayenne press her hand deeper into his side, but she kept her smile.


“I haven’t used Johansson since my father murdered my family,” Trap said easily. “I adopted the name Dawkins.”


“Of course. So much paperwork to get through on everyone. Forgive me.” Violet used her voice. It was subtle. Very subtle, but he felt the stream of compulsion on the edges of his mind. “And this is your wife? Cayenne, isn’t it? An unusual name.”


“As you know, like you, I’m one of Whitney’s orphans,” Cayenne said. “Perhaps, Violet, we can dispense with the games.”


She used her own voice, and Trap had to admit the compulsion was stronger. He felt the energy crackling between the two women. Violet shook her head several times to rid herself of the suggestion Cayenne had planted.


“Perhaps we should go somewhere private,” Trap suggested. “You bring a couple of your security people if you need to feel safe.”


“Why wouldn’t I be safe?” Violet asked. “You’re hardly going to assassinate a U.S. senator and running mate for the presidency.”


“You haven’t actually gotten that yet,” Trap pointed out. “Isn’t all of this to raise money?” He leaned close, his gaze sweeping with contempt down her body and then back up to stare straight into her eyes. “Isn’t Whitney backing you?” His voice implied all sorts of things, mostly that she was sleeping with a monster for his money.


Her lashes swept down and then back up. “Follow me. You and Dr. Fontenot.”


“Cayenne comes with me.”


It was her turn to give him a contemptuous look. “You have to have a security blanket?”


“I have to make certain you aren’t making another attempt to kill her.” It was a shot in the dark, but he took it.


Violet stepped back, one hand moving defensively to her throat. “Why in the world would I do that?”


What are you doing, Trap? Joe demanded. Whitney ordered the hit, not Violet.


Violet? Trap echoed. Not Violet? None of them called her that. Not when discussing her. Not ever, unless they were addressing her and thought it would irritate her not to be called Senator Smythe.


“You tell me,” Trap said aloud. “Did you send the team of souped-up soldiers after my wife? Did you want her dead?”


Violet stared at him for a long heartbeat. “Of course not.” Abruptly she turned her back on him. “Follow me.”


She’s lying. Cayenne pressed her hand deeper into his side. There was a hiss of anger floating through her musical tone. She did send them.


Gino swung in directly behind Violet. A phantom so close he could breathe on her neck or snap it any moment. She didn’t feel him there, his pace matching hers exactly, his footfalls in perfect sync. Trap, Cayenne and Wyatt followed him, and Draden stepped behind them, covering their backs.


You can’t know that, Joe snapped. Stick to the plan. Find out what she wants and stop accusing her of things we can’t prove.


Cayenne knows a lie when she hears it. I do too, Trap bit out. That woman sent those soldiers knowing those three babies could have been at home. The soldiers were trying to kill all of them, Joe. She did that.


There was a small silence and then Joe made his decision. Pull back. We don’t have a security team in that room. You have to stay where we can protect you.


Violet yanked open a hidden door that looked as if it was part of the wall. She stepped inside without hesitation. Gino followed her in. Trap swept his arm around Cayenne’s waist, halting her. For all he knew, Violet had a team of soldiers inside, waiting to cut them down.


Room’s clear, Gino stated.


I don’t like it, Joe said.


Gino says it’s clear, you know it is, Wyatt said. We need this information.


Trap? Joe prodded.


I agree. Gino doesn’t walk into traps. I say let’s hear the lying bitch out.


Cayenne’s hand gave him a slap of a reprimand – or a pat of approval – on the ribs, he wasn’t certain which, but he barely waited for Joe’s go-ahead before he stepped inside, taking Cayenne with him. Wyatt was right there with them, pressing close to Cayenne on the other side of her, shielding her body as they moved toward the chairs set in front of a fireplace. Draden closed the door behind them, and then stayed in front of it, his arms at his side, looking relaxed. He moved like lightning, and he never missed his target. Never that Trap knew of anyway.


No one sat, waiting for the senator to do so first. She didn’t. She paced back and forth in front of the fireplace, her steps quick and fluid, all nervous energy. She finally turned toward them, realizing they weren’t sitting.