Deadly Game (8 page)

Of all the people in the world, it had to be Ken who saw the mess Brett had made of her body.
I can keep this up all night, Mari; eventually you’ll give me what I want. It will just hurt a lot more, but I don’t mind that.
Ashamed, she pulled the blanket closer around her as Brett’s words echoed in her mind. Of course he hadn’t touched her face. Whitney would have killed him, but sooner or later, Whitney’s threats wouldn’t be enough to deter Brett. In a way she felt sorry for him. Whitney had programmed him, turned him into an animal who no longer thought about right or wrong, only what he wanted—and he wanted Mari. He would be on the team that came for her, and he would kill anyone who stood in his way.

She reached down to touch her hip. There was a bandage there. They’d found and removed the tracking device Whitney had implanted. She should have known they would find it. She had been certain her team would be able to find her quickly, using that tracking system, but now they would have to rely on Whitney—or Abrams and his military contacts—and that would take some time. There were few trails leading to the GhostWalkers and no one carried identification. If they died during a mission, they were buried quietly, without public fanfare, because no one knew they existed.

Ken jerked down his shirt, covering the scars running down his belly, disappearing even lower into his jeans. He leaned over her, his hand spanning her throat, fingers stroking a caress over her silken skin. His whisper was soft, lips against her ear so that his breath was warm, fanning curls of heat through her body. “I don’t live by anybody else’s rules. I make up my own.”

She wrapped her fingers around his wrist, a bracelet that went halfway around, but her fingers dug into his skin, into the ridges of his scars as her lashes drifted down. “Don’t let anyone else see me. Especially not Briony.”

Ken closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against hers. It was sheer hell to be so close to her and not touch her. Even with blood and sweat and the drugs, her scent drove him crazy. Whitney’s experiment into pairing through scent was more than a success. But even more than the physical need, he felt the urge to protect her. Maybe it had been the sight of her broken and battered body when they’d cut off her clothes. Maybe it had been the sound of Nico and the surgeon swearing, or Jack’s hiss of rage. All he could remember was feeling the impact like a punch to his gut, and then later, when they’d rolled her over to examine her back, he felt his heart being ripped from his body.

He had known there were monsters in the world—he’d met a few, destroyed a few—but who would want to do this to a woman?
Someone like his father.
Abruptly he pulled his mind from going in that direction.

“Are you all right, Ken?” Jack asked, touching his arm.

“I swear, Jack, this is like going through it all again. First the deer and then Mari. I don’t think I’ll ever close my eyes again.”

“We’ve got to get out of here. We don’t dare stay any longer.”

“I’ll stay behind. You take her to a safe place and get some rest. I’ll make certain they can’t come looking.”

“You can’t kill them all, Ken. And in any case, we don’t know who the bad guys are. She said they weren’t there to kill the senator—that they were supposed to protect him. If the order came down that way, they’re no different than we are. They want her back because we don’t leave a GhostWalker behind.”

“One of them did this to her.”

“We don’t know which one.”

Ken straightened slowly and turned to face his brother. “She doesn’t want Briony to know.”

“Briony’s not a child. I don’t lie to her, not even for you, and you can’t ask me to, Ken.” Jack spread out his hands. “Let’s get her on the helicopter and we can sort all this out later. We’ll take her to the small house Lily rented for us and stay there a few hours. The van will meet us there and we can disappear with her.”

“Are you bringing Briony in?”

Jack shook his head. “It’s too dangerous. She’s pregnant and Whitney wants her. I’m not willing to risk her life, although she wants to see her sister. She’s staying with Lily now at the big house, and Kadan and Ryland’s team is guarding her while we make a run for it.”

“You mean while we figure out how best to use Mari in our little game with Whitney.”

Jack pushed the gurney toward the door, ignoring the bite in his brother’s voice. “She’ll go back the first chance she gets, Ken. You can’t trust her. You heard her. You saw her. She’s not Briony, as much as they look alike. This one is tough as nails and could rip your heart out if you take your eyes off of her. Don’t you forget that. At this point I wouldn’t trust her with Briony’s life, let alone yours.”

“I haven’t forgotten.” Ken slung his rifle around his neck and checked his guns and ammunition belt. “I just am not willing to turn her back over to whoever hurt her like that.”

“Don’t identify with her. She’s our prisoner. And she could easily cut your throat—or mine. We don’t know anything about her. She’s capable of running a con just like we are. She was trained as a soldier, so her first duty is to escape.”

“Copy that, Daddy,” Ken said.

Jack halted so abruptly Ken ran into the bed. Their eyes met, a slash of steel swords clashing over Mari’s head. “I’m going to look out for you, Ken, whether you like it or not. You think I don’t know how shook up you were looking at the deer carcasses? You’re identifying with them.”

“Maybe, but I’m not letting anyone take this woman back to Whitney.”

“If she goes back, we can follow her, rescue the others, and cap Whitney’s ass,” Jack pointed out. “It all sounds good to me.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a bloodthirsty son of a bitch?” Ken asked.

“Yes,” Jack assented. “More than once.”

“Well, it’s true.” Ken lifted Mari into his arms while Jack steadied her leg and took the medical rigging. The helicopter was a few yards away, Nico waiting, rifle ready as he searched the area around them for an enemy. “You always think in terms of killing, Jack. I thought once you were with Briony, you’d get out of that habit.”

Jack shrugged. “It’s easier than jawing at everyone the way you do. By the time you finish talking to them, we realize we have to kill them anyway. I just save you all that trouble.”

Ken scowled at his brother. “You do realize everyone thinks you’re the pretty boy, now that my face is scarred. It doesn’t go well with your Dr. Death image.”

“
Pretty
boy!” Jack glared at him. “If I didn’t have my hands full, I’d shoot you for that comment.”

“You mean to tell me Briony doesn’t tell you how pretty you are late at night when the two of you are all alone?”

“Don’t think I won’t take you out,” Jack threatened.

Ken flashed a sudden grin, genuine this time. “She does, doesn’t she?”

“She thinks I look rough and tough,” Jack corrected.

“Hey, Nico,” Ken called out as they boarded the helicopter, no easy feat with trying to keep Mari’s leg from being jarred. “Don’t you think Jack here is a pretty boy?”

Nico glanced at Jack’s face and grinned. “Yeah, he’s a hot babe, all right. Must make all the women folks crazy.”

“You can both go to hell,” Jack said.

Ken turned away, depositing Mari carefully on the small gurney locked in place. Jack secured the medical gear and Nico took the pilot’s seat. They waited for the doctor, who hurried after them carrying the rest of the supplies they needed. Eric Lambert was a good doctor and often aided the GhostWalker teams, although he wasn’t physically or psychically enhanced. He knew a lot about gene therapy and was interested in Whitney’s experiments and had a high clearance, so he was often the man Lily sent out into the field to protect the GhostWalkers. He was the surgeon who had saved Jesse Calhoun’s life when he’d been shot several times deliberately in both his legs, and Jack and Ken had a soft spot for him, simply because Jesse was their friend and they had few real friends in the world.

Ken moved over to make room for him. “Are you up for some excitement, Doc?”

“No. Don’t shoot anybody.”

Jack snorted. “See, it isn’t just me. He knows you talk a lot of bull and in the end you shoot them anyway.”

Ken narrowed his eyes as Eric got up to check his patient. “Her pulse is stronger than I thought it would be with the dose we gave her. I’d like to take some more blood samples. I think she heals a lot faster than we anticipated. Whitney included an extra pair of chromosomes when he was altering all of you and that gives him a lot of genetic code to work with. The more I study all of you, the more I realize we don’t know a third of what you can do.”

“You took enough of her blood,” Ken objected. “She’s been used as a guinea pig for Whitney’s experiments all of her life. I don’t think it’s necessary for us to do the same to her.”

As always, Ken sounded mild, but Eric heard the warning note in his voice and glanced at Jack, who simply shook his head. Eric settled back in his seat. “We need to really understand what’s going on with all of you,” he pointed out. “If she heals faster and can push drugs through her system faster, we need to know. We wouldn’t want to be in the middle of a complex operation and have one of you wake up on us.”

Eric sank down onto the bench and gripped the seat as the helicopter took off. He’d never liked flying, Ken remembered, and they should be grateful that he was always willing to come when one of them was injured, but instead, Ken felt an unreasonable wash of emotions he couldn’t quite identify.

He clenched his teeth at the unbidden images that rose the moment Eric planted the idea of waking up in the middle of an operation. Was that the kind of experiment Whitney conducted on a regular basis? From all accounts he loved science and lived for little else. Was his mind so twisted that he might subject a human being to that kind of torment again and again just to see the results? Ken had been tortured—he knew what it was like to feel the slice of a knife going through his skin while he was wide awake and unable to fight back. The idea that Whitney might have done the same thing to another human being in the name of science made him ill.

A tremor went through him and he had to fight back a wave of nausea. Why was it all coming back after all these months? His belly throbbed, and lower, much lower, he could feel the mind-numbing pain, an agony crawling through his body, hear laughter echoing insanely through his head. Was he finally losing his mind? The rage inside of him, kept so carefully bottled up, surged up through his belly and into his throat until he wanted to scream and tear someone apart with his bare hands. Beads of sweat dropped from his forehead onto his arm. He never saw blood as red anymore, so he couldn’t tell whether the droplets were sweat, simply an illusion, or real blood the way his mind wanted to see it.

“Ken.” Jack said his name sharply.

Their eyes met across the gurney as the helicopter vibrated, shaking them as they flew through the air, just skimming the treetops. Ken could hardly bear to see the knowledge and compassion in his brother’s eyes. His mouth went dry, but he managed to pull off his slight grin, the one that he kept in reserve for moments like this. He was all right. He was just fine. They’d taken his skin, his looks, even his manhood, and made his body into something out of a horror movie, but he was just fine. No nightmares, no screaming, just a flash of a grin, telling the world a monster didn’t live and breathe inside of him, raking him with claws, demanding to get out and annihilate everyone around him.

Sometimes Ken thought that monster would rip open his belly from the inside out. Jack thought he wanted to talk everyone to death. He was the good twin. The easygoing twin, the one that got along with everybody. His fingers curled into two tight fists and then, aware of what he was giving away to his sharp-eyed brother, he spread his fingers out in front of him. Steady as a rock. He could always count on that. His hand might be scarred, his fingers not as flexible as they should be, but Ekabela and his sadist friends had made the mistake of mutilating them but not taking away his ability to shoot. They were too eager to get down to the real pleasure of cutting him in other, much more painful and frightening places.

He shifted his gaze away from his brother. Jack could read his mind. Hell, they’d been slipping in and out of each other’s mind since they were toddlers. Even then it had been self-preservation. They learned at an early age to count only on each other. Jack knew him too well. He knew that the monster that lived inside of both of them was all too close to the surface these days. Jack had to be worried that Ken was not going to able to keep it contained. Insanity was a very real possibility he had to face.

Dr. Peter Whitney was a man with far too much money and power. He didn’t believe the rules were for someone like him, and unfortunately he had the backing of some very powerful men. Jack and Ken, like several other men in the military, had fallen for his enthusiasm over his psychic experiments. It made perfect sense at the time—to take men from all branches of the service with Special Forces training and test them to see if they had potential to use psychic abilities. The doctor would enhance the inherent talent and create a unit of men who could save lives with their abilities.

Whitney hadn’t said a word about gene therapy and genetic enhancement. He hadn’t mentioned cancer or brain bleeds or strokes either. He certainly had never admitted he would pit the men unknowingly against one another. And never once had he mentioned a breeding program, using pheromones to pair a supersoldier with a woman.

Ken rubbed his pounding temples. Whitney hadn’t screened them very carefully—or maybe he had. Maybe he knew about Jack and Ken’s father and how he was so jealous and obsessed with their mother he couldn’t bear to share her with his own children. Obsession was a very ugly word, and Whitney had certainly compounded the demon the twins fought on a daily basis. They had vowed they would never chance becoming the man their father had been, yet they had both been chosen, without their knowledge, to participate in Whitney’s breeding experiment.

Of course he knew about the old man,
Jack said.
He’s the reason Whitney chose us. We’re twins. He’s paired us with twins and he’s kicking back waiting to see the results.