Spider Game (GhostWalkers, #12)(123)

Violet waved toward the chairs. “Please. Hear me out. I invited you here for a very important reason.”


Wyatt gestured toward a chair. “You sit, ma’am.”


Swift impatience crossed her face. She flung herself into the nearest armchair. “They aren’t rigged to blow up the moment you sit in them,” she snapped.


“I was raised by ma grand-mere. She taught me to be a gentleman. You don’t sit, then I don’t sit.”


Violet’s gaze swept him. “Of course. But Dr. Dawkins has no excuse.”


“No,” Trap agreed. “I’m not a gentleman, not unless I’m around a lady, which you’re clearly not.” He deliberately waited until Cayenne sank into a chair before he followed suit.


“Why are you being so difficult?” Violet demanded.


“Because you’re trying to use compulsion on me, on all of us, and I don’t like it. Stop trying to force us into doing your bidding. It isn’t going to happen,” Trap snapped. “This is a complete farce – you bringing up my past as if that’s going to throw me. That’s a game, bitch, and you know it. I call it like I see it. You’re a senator because your husband was a senator and when you pulled the plug on him, you went on television every chance you got, playing the sad widow patriot and using your voice in order to make the world sympathize so you could be elected to take his place.”


Every vestige of color leached from Violet’s face. Again her hand went to her throat. She pulled out a chain and wrapped her fingers around the two rings, making a fist, covering them like hidden treasure. She leaned toward Trap. “You don’t know the first thing about me, so don’t presume that you do.”


“I know you’ve been shoveling shit at us since you opened your mouth.” Trap’s voice lashed like a whip, something he was very good at. He ignored the warning hand Cayenne put on his thigh. He wrapped his fingers around it and held it to him, pressing her palm deep.


She’s really upset, Trap. When you mention her husband, she becomes very agitated.


“I didn’t pull the plug because I wanted to,” Violet said, her voice low, her eyes on the floor. For one moment, her face looked ravaged. When she raised her eyes, she looked so completely grief-stricken, Trap couldn’t help but register the look. He’d seen it in his own eyes every time he looked in the mirror after his aunt had been murdered. Bleak. An endless agony one couldn’t escape. Violet couldn’t fake that kind of grief. No matter how good of an actress she was, she couldn’t fake that.


“The only one who might have been able to save Ed was Whitney. He dangled that carrot in front of me so often, forcing me to help him with his schemes, but he never operated. There was a new protocol. It wasn’t being used yet, but he knew how. He could have done it. A surgery and a drug. I brought my husband…” Her voice hitched on a sob. She choked it back and lifted her chin. “We flew into one of Whitney’s safe military airports. He was supposed to help him. Instead he paired me with him. Paired me with him. With Whitney.”


There was so much hatred and anger in her voice, Cayenne winced. Trap curled his fingers around hers protectively and kept her palm pinned to his thigh.


She’s telling the truth, Cayenne confirmed. Every word is the truth. So is her emotion. The anger. The grief.


“I did despicable things for my husband, to keep him alive, before he was shot and again after. I did everything Whitney wanted, including betraying my friends, my sisters – the others from the orphanage. Still, he didn’t keep his word. There was no saving Ed. I knew that.” Violet pressed her hand to her mouth. “When he told me to go into the hangar and pull the plug, I did.”


Her voice broke and she struggled for a moment with her emotions before she could continue. No one said anything. Waiting.


“It was the only way I could get free of Whitney. I knew he hadn’t paired himself with me, that it was only one way, not both. I knew that. He wanted me to worship him, do whatever he said. And I did. I became a senator, and I put myself in the position to be chosen as a vice presidential candidate. He thinks he’ll continue to use me as his puppet and believe, me, that’s exactly what I want him to believe.”


That is true, Cayenne confirmed. She leaned toward Violet. “Then why did you send the soldiers after me? And don’t deny that you did that. You did. He doesn’t want me dead anymore, does he? I’m paired with Trap. We’re together, and more than anything else he wants a baby from our pairing. He wants Wyatt’s children. You ordered the hit, not Whitney. Why did you do that? You need to tell us right now. You want to tell us.”


Trap stared at Cayenne in awe. She’d never used that tone. The one that slipped inside one’s brain and insisted on obedience. So low. So perfect. The voice of an angel. No one, not even the devil, could avoid her voice or resist the soft command. She’d been telling him the truth when she said she’d never used her talent on him – not her full talent.


Baby, I’m going to have to reassess whether or not I’ve actually had the upper hand. He let the awe and pride in her show in his voice.


I love you, Trap, but you’ve never had the upper hand.