CHAPTER 14
Ken moved back into deeper shadow, his gaze steady
on the guard. The man was certainly engrossed in his book, and that
told Ken a lot about the situation at the compound. Working at a
secret laboratory was slow, tedious work. No one really considered
that they come under attack or that anyone might try to break in.
Most of the compound was underground, so any lost or stray hunter
would find the fence, a small airstrip, and a few outbuildings. No
one had come near the place for years, and Whitney had some pretty
sophisticated warning systems. Apparently, the guards had been too
long without incident. They had grown lazy and bored. He watched as
the guard put his book down, but not once did he do more than give
a cursory look around before walking along the fence line.
Ken waited until he was gone before consulting with
his brother. “I’m not going to be able to hold off much longer
before going in after Mari, Jack. We have to get this done and
fast.”
“You know we need better intel,” Jack said. “I’ve
asked for satellite views of the entire compound as well as
infrared camera images to time the movement of the men. We have to
have exact schematics of the entire compound—the layout, the height
of the fence, and Lily will need to find someone who put the
underground buildings together, so we know what we’re facing before
we expose the team to danger. This base is very deceptive.”
“It’s layers. The top layer is what the outside
world sees.”
“Yes, a guarded facility with a few outbuildings
and a landing strip. You’ve got to get Mari to tell you what’s
belowground.”
“I already gave you what she told me. Four levels,
Jack. It’s made of concrete, so we know there are going to be a few
hollow places like we’ve found in the military bases. It isn’t as
impregnable as Whitney would like.”
“Look, Ken, we can’t just storm in guns blazing.
Clearly there are civilians working here, and Whitney has regular
military soldiers mixed with his own personal army. I’d like to get
the women and get out without anyone spotting us. The last thing we
need to do is hit or get hit by a friendly.”
“As far as I’m concerned, anyone working at this
place is fair game.”
“They’re soldiers obeying orders. They don’t have a
clue Whitney is a madman. My guess is most of them have never seen
him, talked to him, or even know he’s here. Their assignment is top
secret, the location is, and they do their rotation and get the
hell out when the opportunity presents itself.”
“You know, Jack, I really don’t give a damn. You
know as well as I do that when you’ve spent time somewhere, you
know what’s going on—and if you don’t, you hear the rumors and you
guess. That guard didn’t give a damn if innocent women were being
used for experimentation. And where the hell is the loyalty of the
team Mari and the others trained with?”
Ken’s voice was turning to ice. His gray eyes were
glacier cold. Jack chose his words carefully. “I agree these are
all questions we need to answer, Ken, but not here. Our primary
mission is a rescue. That’s why we’re here.”
“Someone has to take out Whitney. You know it’s got
to be done, Jack.”
“Yeah, I know. I don’t want to be the one
explaining it to Lily, though.” Jack took a slow swig of water and
let it trickle down his throat, giving his brother a little more
time. Jack had always been the one pushing for a quick answer, and
the role reversal wasn’t comfortable. “We have a lot of work to do
before we bring in the team. They’re standing by, Ken, so if we
want to pull her out, we have to get to work. It’ll be completely
dark in another half hour or so.”
“I can feel her. She’s very upset. I’ve tried to
reach out to her mind, but she isn’t answering me. Whatever is
happening, she doesn’t want me to know about it.” Ken’s voice was
strained. “And if she doesn’t want me to know about it, something
bad is going on.”
Jack automatically touched his mind, as he’d been
doing since they were toddlers, just as Ken knew he would. Ken was
prepared and kept his shields high. It wasn’t easy keeping Jack at
bay; they’d been shadows in each other’s mind for as long as either
could remember, but both had worked hard to build shields once they
became aware others had psychic power as well—and the practice paid
off.
Jack didn’t need to know just how close to cracking
he was. In that moment, Ken didn’t care about the other women, or
even any innocents working as techs, researchers, or guards. If
Mari didn’t let him know she was all right very soon, he was going
in after her, and God help anyone who got in his way. He felt
murderous, not cold and unemotional. Discipline was going out the
window fast.
“Ken, you think I don’t know how you’re feeling
with her locked up with madmen?” Jack crawled into a better
position, his gaze sweeping the route the guard had taken.
“Whitney went after Briony because she was
pregnant; he wasn’t stripping her naked and laying her out on an
exam table for some perverted doctor to photograph. Damn it, Jack,
I could feel him touching Mari. He wasn’t acting like any doctor
I’ve ever met. And Whitney has men in there willing to rape a woman
if she isn’t cooperative.” The knots in his belly tightened into
hard lumps that threatened to climb higher and choke him.
“You have to step back, bro,” Jack said, keeping
his voice steady. “We’ll get the intel and get the women out as
soon as possible.” Ken didn’t answer, and Jack sighed and glanced
over at him. “You know I’ll go in with you and pull her out if
anything goes wrong. Tell her that, give her something to hang on
to.”
“If I told her that, she’d freak on me. She’s
willing to sacrifice herself for the other women. She considers
them family and she’s not going to willing come without
them.”
“Then we make it work,” Jack said. “I wouldn’t
leave you behind. We can’t ask her to do something we wouldn’t be
willing to do ourselves. She wouldn’t be able to live with
herself.”
Ken bit back a retort. He hated it, but he knew
Jack was right. He wanted to go in and haul Mari out over his
shoulder and lock her somewhere safe, but he couldn’t do that to
her—at least not right now. She wouldn’t be able to live with
herself if something happened to the other women, so that meant
getting them all out before he went off the deep end and took her
out without her consent—which would make him nearly as bad as
everyone else who had taken her life away from her. He had to give
her time and the opportunity to get those she considered family
safely away.
Mari was a woman who wanted control of her
life—deserved control of her life. He was a man whose entire being
demanded that he be the one in utter and complete control of those
around him. He knew it appeared to people that Jack seemed the
dominant twin, always in the lead, but Ken had realized early on
that Jack needed to feel in control, in much the same way Mari did,
and he had stepped back, watching over his brother carefully,
always protecting him, providing the environment Jack needed.
Ken tried to remember when he’d first made the
decision to be Jack’s front man in social situations—it had to be
right after their father had been killed. He had cultivated a
smooth smile and quick intervention. Jack, like Ken, was a dead-on
accurate shot. It was a gift both had been born with. They worked
well as a team, each looking out for the other, Ken allowing Jack
whatever he needed to be able to survive. But to do the same for
Mari was impossible. He needed her to be safe. He needed
that.
“We came in using the river to avoid detection, but
our team will need to use high altitude, low opening parachutists,”
Ken said. “You know they aren’t going to look up unless they hear
something, and they won’t hear a thing if our boys come in using
HALO. Our team is trained, and I’d rather use them then people
we’re not as familiar working with. We can pull a few strings and
cancel a commercial flight at the last moment. There’s enough
regular air traffic over the area that no one’s going to perceive a
threat if we take the commercial flight path and altitude. Whoever
is doing the monitoring will never suspect a thing.”
Jack nodded. “Definitely the best plan. The guards
are not alert. Nothing’s shaken them up in the last couple of
years.”
“Ryland’s men can back us up, but call in Logan and
tell him we want our unit for this one.”
Jack nodded in agreement. “That’s a given, Ken, and
already done. The men know it’s personal to you, and they’re
already assembled and waiting for the intel. They’re not going to
let you down.”
Ken knew Jack was right, but it didn’t unravel the
knots in his belly. “I’m checking the doctor’s house. He just went
in.” He indicated the small bluff overlooking the cottages. “I’ll
work my way down to that point and go in from there. You cover
me.”
“Checking the doctor’s house for what?” Jack asked.
“You can’t just go in there and blow this for us.”
“He took pictures of her.”
“That’s his job. He had to have left them in the
laboratory.”
“I’m making certain. And I’m going to find out
where in the laboratory he left them.”
“Damn it, Ken. You can’t take a chance on tipping
anyone off to the fact that we’re here. Just stay put.”
“He’s got pictures and he knows where the other
pictures are. He touched her, Jack—when she was helpless and he was
supposed to be examining her impersonally—he touched her.”
Mari had toned her emotions down, had even pulled
away from him, but not before he’d caught the distaste, the feeling
of utter helplessness, the mixture of sorrow, despair, and impotent
rage that he knew intimately. He couldn’t get Mari out of there and
away to somewhere safe in that moment, but he sure as hell could
pay the doctor a little visit. He might never be able to give Mari
all the things she deserved—like a stable, easygoing partner—but he
could hand the pictures—and her dignity—back to her.
Jack rubbed his mouth to keep from protesting.
Nothing was going to stop Ken and Jack couldn’t blame him. If it
was Briony, the man would already be dead. For the first time in
his life, Jack feared for his brother’s sanity. Mari was an
unknown, but she was his wife’s twin sister and his brother’s
chosen woman and that made her both important and a threat to his
family’s well-being.
Ken was, and always had been, a dangerous man. He
was, by turns, controlled and deliberate, cold and efficient, and
always capable of swift and brutal violence if the situation called
for it. Where Jack was easy for those around him to read, Ken
appeared easygoing and affable. The men in their unit found him
much more approachable. Jack had always known on some level that
Ken had forced himself to be the “front” man in an effort to
protect his twin. He hadn’t realized, until now, how foreign that
behavior had been to Ken’s nature.
Ken had the same hidden demons—the same nightmares
and fears—and he had an even stronger dose of their father’s
legacy—the dark jealousies and need for swift and violent
retribution. Ken had worn a mask all those years, hiding—even from
his twin—the rage seething just below the surface. Between the
trauma of his recent capture and torture and meeting Mari, Ken’s
way of life had been turned upside down. The smooth, easygoing
façade was gone.
Jack sighed and glanced at his watch. “Don’t get
caught. I’d hate to have to kill anyone before we even get
started.”
Ken reached out to tap his brother’s knuckles with
his own in their familiar silent ritual. He scooted back into the
foliage, careful to keep the thin branches from swaying as he
passed through. Moving at a snail’s pace, Ken inched his way down
the hillside until he was within a few yards of the cottage he was
fairly certain was the doctor’s. The small house was set just a
little apart from the other houses, and security was tighter. The
guards walked the perimeter every ten minutes, two of them,
switching their routine continually. The doctor had something to
hide.
Ken slipped into the scraggly hedges surrounding
the small community of houses just as a guard came around the side
of the house and stopped, the heels of his boots within a foot of
Ken’s elbow. Ken’s breath caught in his lungs—he stayed absolutely
still, allowing ants and beetles to crawl over him. A lizard
tickled his arm as it raced up it in little starts and stops, until
it perched on his shoulder, pumping up and down, scenting the
air.
The guard took three steps forward and halted
again, turning fast as if he was trying to spot something—or
someone. Ken’s brows drew together. Had he made a sound? The
whisper of clothes along the ground? He took care that his skin
reflected the foliage around him. His specially designed clothes
reflected the colors of his surroundings.
What had tipped off the guard? Ken slid his hand
inch by inch along his jacket until he reached the knife strapped
to the front. His fingers wrapped around the hilt, but he left it
in the scabbard. He could draw and throw almost before others could
squeeze a trigger. The move had been practiced hundreds of hours
over the last few years, and he was every bit as accurate at
throwing as he was with a rifle.
I’ve got him.
Jack’s voice was without emotion, a statement of
fact. If the guard twitched wrong, he was a dead man, and then all
hell would break loose fast.
I’ll take him out and hide the body. Ken was
beginning to sweat. He could hear the man breathing, smell his
fear, see the nerves as he searched the hillsides carefully.
He’s got to be enhanced, Jack. He’s using either vision or
hearing, but he hasn’t locked on to you. They couldn’t afford
for the guard to raise the alarm. Something was making him nervous,
but Ken couldn’t figure it out. There was no telltale tree cancer
where a part of Jack’s weapon might be showing along the side of
the tree trunk. No shiny objects. Jack had the same ability to
camouflage his skin, the same reflective clothing. He disappeared
into his surroundings until he was invisible. Ken knew exactly
where Jack was, yet he couldn’t spot him, and if he couldn’t with
his eagle sight, he was damned certain the guard couldn’t
either.
He’s psychic. He’s not feeling our energy when
we’re talking, but he’s catching something else, he warned his
brother. Don’t move a muscle.
They both watched as the guard quartered the area
with a slow, careful search. He didn’t reach for his field glasses,
and that told both of them he had enhanced sight. Ken tried to draw
into himself, careful to keep his breath smooth and even and
silent. All the while he kept his attention on the guard, not
daring to risk another look at his brother. If the guard spotted
Jack, Ken would have to kill him swiftly and in utter silence,
before the man had a chance to either raise the alarm or turn a
weapon on Jack.
Without warning Mari’s fear filled his mind. It
poured into him as if he were wide open with no careful shields
built to protect him. His body shook with the overload. Air left
his lungs in a rush, his mouth went dry, and his heart seemed to
stop, then began to pound so loud he was afraid the guard would
overhear. Sweat broke out on his brow—none of it was good when he
was feet from an enhanced soldier.
He drew air into his lungs, pushed past Mari’s
fear, and stayed focused on his enemy. He was so close to the man,
he knew he could get to his feet and wrap his arm around the
soldier and plunge the knife in a kill zone, all in a few seconds,
but the man would still have time to react. Physical enhancement
made them abnormally strong, and GhostWalkers were taught to fight
to their last breath. The guard might just be tough enough to have
time to raise an alarm. Desperation was beginning to settle in. Ken
forced his body under control and remained waiting, but all the
while a growing terror for Mari’s safety spread.
She’ll be all right. You’ve got to trust
her.
Jack’s calm voice helped to keep Ken from rising up
and taking a chance on disposing of the guard just so he could get
to Mari as fast as possible. He waited, willing the man to move on.
If he used mind control to get the man off of him, the outpouring
of energy might very will tip off every other psychic in the
compound. He breathed deep and felt for her. Mari. Her fear was for
someone else. He could live with that.
The guard relaxed after another long, slow look
around, and ambled off around the corner of the small house. Ken
waited another three minutes to make certain the man wasn’t
doubling back.
You’re clear, Jack said.
Ken crawled forward, sliding through the neat
flower garden, a rather strange and prissy bed of color out in the
middle of nowhere. The windows of the house were painted black, and
where there was a small bit of streaking, he could see heavy drapes
blocking any view of the interior.
The doctor doesn’t want anyone prying into his
business. Why else would his windows be all blacked out?
He’s probably paranoid. Wouldn’t you be, living
here with Whitney for a boss?
Ken didn’t answer. The window appeared to be clear
of an alarm, but he wasn’t buying it. The doctor had something to
hide, and he was going to find out what. He listened for the low
hum of an electronic alarm. His fingers swept the sill, searching
for hidden trip wires. Oh, yeah, the place was locked down
tight.
Ken placed his hand just over the glass. It was
much more difficult detecting currents of energy with his body so
scarred, particularly his hands. Sometimes he failed to feel things
the way he should. He waited, counting the seconds, concentrating,
willing himself to sense the current if it was there. If he didn’t
find one, he would put it down to the lack of ability in his
fingertips and proceed on the premise that one was there, but if he
could just spot the current running through the foil wire in the
glass, things would go a lot faster.
Ken cursed the scars that left him with so little
feeling. He couldn’t detect the faint current, but when he
listened, he was fairly certain that the doctor had an outside
perimeter alarm. But the doc wouldn’t just rely on that. He’d have
something more sophisticated inside. A sensor system would detect
infrared energy. The sensor was sensitive to the temperature of the
human body. In front of each door was a harmless-looking floor mat,
one Ken was certain had a pressure trigger.
The doc is protecting something. I’m going to
look for the control box. He has to have one hidden around here
somewhere.
Maybe this isn’t such a good idea, Jack said
uneasily. You go in there and you’re probably going to kill the
bastard, and how do we hide that?
Of course he was going to kill the doctor. The man
had touched Mari. He had humiliated and embarrassed her and he’d
enjoyed it. Maybe Ken shouldn’t have shared her thoughts, but it
was too late, the information had been exchanged and he’d let it
happen. He hated himself for that. She deserved so much better.
He should have gone in, guns blazing, and pulled her out, but he
hadn’t. He’d stood by and let them torment her. What the hell kind
of man was he?
Ken. Are you even listening to me? We’ve got a
team coming in. We’re going to pull the women out of
there.
What the hell would you do if it was Briony?
Ken demanded.
There was a small silence. You know what I’d
do.
Then shut the hell up and keep them off my
back.
Ken found the control box neatly tucked away under
the eaves up near the attic. He’d spotted a small cable hidden
along a pipe and followed it up until he spotted the box. The
controls had to be set from someone leaning out the attic window or
from the roof itself. The doctor thought he was clever, but unless
the roof was wired as well, it simply made things easier.
I’m going up.
You’re clear now, but you have two guards
circling around toward your position.
Ken went up the side of the house as silently as
possible, sliding onto the roof as one of the guards strode into
view. The second guard joined him, and they spoke briefly before
they each went their separate ways. Ken remained still as the
footsteps faded.
You’re clear.
The control box was hooked up to several alarm
circuits but had its own power supply. It wasn’t all that difficult
to disarm it and deactivate the numerous alarms the doctor had
set.
Ken gained entrance through the grate in the attic.
At once he could hear classical music blaring through the house.
The scent of candles, sweat, and semen assailed him the moment he
entered. Although the doctor had his music up loud, Ken kept his
weight evenly distributed as he crept across the floor to the
stairs, to prevent any creaks from alerting the man to the danger
threatening him. He removed the small door leading below and peered
down. The house was dark, with only a few candles flickering,
casting eerie shadows on the walls. Ken’s jaw tightened and
adrenaline surged once again. The lights from the candles
illuminated the wallpaper, throwing faces and female body parts
into sharp relief.
Ken inverted as he dropped through the floor, and
then righted himself, landing on his feet as silently as a cat.
Floor-to-ceiling collages on every wall were of naked women
stretched out on tables in a disgusting depiction of medical art.
He recognized Mari, all ages, from young girl, teen, to woman. The
light spilled across her face, and he could see every emotion in
the various pictures, from fear to defiance and anger.
The entire room was dedicated to Mari. There were
pictures of her back striped with cane marks, of her legs and bare
buttocks, all naked. There were close-ups of her mouth, eyes,
breasts, and vaginal area. He stopped at the edge of the wall where
the doctor had been busy putting up the latest pictures. Close-ups
of the inside of Mari’s thighs revealed strawberries and faint
teeth marks, marks Ken had put there when he was making love to
her. The pictures were raw, almost sexual in nature, an obscene
portrayal of what had been the most important moments of his
life.
Holding Mari in his arms, taking her with wild
abandon, her body willing and receptive in spite of his roughness,
in spite of his scars and appearance, had given him back his life.
She had given him hope, and the doctor had reduced what they had
together to something vile for a sick mind. Bile rose in his throat
and he fought a churning stomach as he looked into Mari’s eyes.
This time he saw humiliation and degradation. She hated what
Whitney and the doctor had done with their lovemaking every bit as
much as Ken did.
Rage had gone from shaking him to ice-cold, and
that was always a bad sign. He moved to the next room and found the
walls similarly covered, this time with a woman with an abundance
of dark hair and light eyes. Floor to ceiling, in every room of the
cottage, the walls held pictures of the same seven naked women. He
recognized one as Violet, the senator’s wife. Ken had never felt so
dirty or sick.
He found the doctor in his bedroom, lying on his
bed naked, staring up at the ceiling and the collage of all seven
women. The music was loud and the man hummed as he writhed on the
bed. He never saw Ken at all, only felt the sting of the knife
cutting into his flesh.
“I’d be very still if I were you,” Ken
hissed.
The doctor froze, lying rigid in his bed with the
razor-sharp edge of the knife pressed against his throat. “What do
you want?”
“You’re a sick son of a bitch,” Ken said. “Does
Whitney know what a sick fuck you really are?”
“He said it was all right, that I could have my
girls with me all the time.” The man’s voice was high-pitched and
whiny. “He knows. Ask him. He’ll tell you. He comes in sometimes to
see what I’ve done with them.”
“Where are the original pictures kept?”
“Whitney has them all. He has places we can’t go
and keeps the pictures and files with him.” The voice turned sly.
“He only shares with me.”
“Where does Whitney stay?”
“If I tell you, he’ll kill me.”
“I’m going to kill you right now if you don’t tell
me.”
“He has rooms that no one can get into on the
fourth level, down near the tunnels.” He looked up at the staring
faces of the women. “Aren’t they beautiful? They like me to touch
them and take their pictures.”
Ken’s stomach lurched, threatening to spill the
contents. He slid the knife away and caught the man’s head in both
hands, wrenching hard, hearing the satisfying crack. Whatever
legitimacy Whitney had once had, this house and this man were a
testament to his growing lunacy.
I’m going to torch the house.
Damn it, Ken, don’t do anything crazy.
It’s got to come down. I’ll make certain it
looks like the doc had a little accident with the gas, but this
house has to burn. Because no one else was ever going to see
what this perverted excuse for a man had done to those women. He
was going to blow the son of a bitch into the sky, and when they
investigated, they would find the doctor with his candles and
matches and a loose gas hose.
He couldn’t look at the walls as he worked, feeling
slimy surrounded by the images of the women Whitney had
experimented on and allowed a very sick man to abuse. Who had stood
up for Mari as a child? As a teenager? Jack and he had been in and
out of a lot of foster homes and their father had been a rotten,
jealous drunk who thrived on beating them, but they’d had their
mother and then each other and finally a kind woman who had stood
up for them when no one else would. His heart ached for Mari. He
was going to be sick if he didn’t get the hell out of there, his
stomach churning and knotting in revulsion as he set the scene,
careful to leave nothing that would indicate anything but an
accident.
A slow leak no one caught, the house filled with
gas, and the doctor, cavorting with his music and candles, naked in
front of his obscene shrines, blown to pieces along with his house,
quite tragically.
Get the hell under cover, Jack. They’re going to
comb the countryside when this thing goes off.
I’ll cover you.
I’m going in. I need to get to her.
Damn it, no. Jack snarled it. I mean it,
Ken. Get your ass back here. You’re not that dumb.
I’m exactly that dumb. The thought of Mari
locked down on that examining table, pinned like an insect while a
sick pervert photographed her and touched her was more than he
could bear. He had to get to her and hold her in his arms. It might
be the biggest mistake he’d ever made, but he was going to her. She
wouldn’t be alone tonight.
Jack swore, a blistering round of curses that Ken
ignored. He went out of the house and reset the alarms, leaving
everything exactly the way he’d found it. Instead of making his way
back up to the top of the bluff to join his brother, he began to
crawl through the grass to reach the largest building. There was a
way in, a duct, a conduit, a tunnel—anything left behind in the
cement he could use. There was always a way.
He used sound, a lesser talent he had and one he
wasn’t the best at using, but he could bounce it off the cement
walls searching for a hollow spot. The cement was thin on top of a
spot near the south-facing wall. There were boxes and wooden
pallets and crates of all sizes piled around. Obviously the
supplies were dropped off nearby and unloaded. He restacked the
larger crates and boxes loosely around him to help provide a small
shelter while he worked.
It took a half hour to break through the thin
layer, and another few minutes to dump the concrete into the hollow
space he found inside. He knew there were often wide areas
reinforced with rebar that were left open in between the walls of
larger, mainly military compounds, and once inside, no one would
hear or detect him as he moved around, hopefully making his way to
the lower levels.
I’m in. He found a crate and slid it over
the opening to hide the hole. It would have to do and probably
wouldn’t be noticeable with so many crates piled around the area.
Just as he slipped inside, pulling the crate over him, the doctor’s
house blew, exploding outward, sending debris raining down and red
orange flames billowing with black smoke high into the air.
Men burst out of the guardhouse and began racing in
all directions, silhouetted by the raging fire. An alarm began to
sound, breaking the silence of the night along with the roaring of
the inferno. Ken paused to watch the house burn. Glass showered
down and black spots appeared on the walls, then were consumed by
the hungry flames. There was intense satisfaction in knowing no one
could get near the place, even as they began to try to tame it with
water. It was too late. He’d opened every door to ensure the gas
had filled the house and it would look like Dr. Pervert had tried
to light one of his many candles, accidentally setting off a bomb
and blowing himself across the room, where he struck just right to
break his neck.
Dogs burst out of cages somewhere, from a hidden
tunnel to his left. They had known there were dogs, but they hadn’t
known the animals were kept inside. From his vantage point he could
see the door swinging open to allow the dogs to escape into the
space between the double fences. Whitney was taking no chances that
his women might take advantage of the chaos and try to
escape.
If they have one tunnel, they’ll have more,
Jack observed.
Are you clear? Sooner or later they’ll get
around to sending the dogs to look for someone, just to be on the
safe side. I don’t think Whitney takes much for granted.
I’m fine, Jack assured. You know he has
to have a couple of escape routes. When this place is taken down,
he doesn’t intend to be on it. You know he prepared for that. He
must have a dozen more laboratories just like this one.
I figured as much.
There was a small silence while they listened to
flames roaring in anger, threatening the foliage and nearby
trees.
That’s a hell of a beautiful fire, Jack
commented.
I want the walls burned, inside and out. He had
floor-to-ceiling pictures of them all, Jack. Even when they were
children. Whitney not only knew, but encouraged him. It was one of
the sickest things I’ve ever seen.
Damn good thing the son of a bitch is dead
then.
Ken took one last look at the raging flames,
wishing it would take the sick feeling from his stomach, but his
belly still rebelled, and he had to fight not to vomit every time
he recalled the floor-to-ceiling wall of Mari’s pictures. Her life
chronicled by a perverted deviant. He wanted to smash
something.
It was unlike him to give in to his violent
emotions. When he went out on an assignment, it was always
business. He was completely devoid of all feeling, uncaring of
anything but getting the job done. When someone tried to kill him,
he rarely took it personal; it was part of who and what he was. But
this . . .
You’re falling in love with that girl.
Go to hell, Jack. It isn’t that. She needs
protection.
So do the other women. Are you feeling the same
way about them?
How can I fall in love with someone I just
met?
You’re shallow. I’ve always told you that, but
you never listened to me.
It isn’t love. She just—He broke off
abruptly. It wasn’t love. He didn’t dare love. Love could turn into
something really ugly with a man like him. He wanted her—wanted to
take care of her and see that she had a better life.
Who was he kidding? He wanted to wake up with her
in his arms, with her legs wrapped around his waist, his body
grinding hard against hers, his mouth at her breasts and kissing
her, hot, long kisses that never ended. It’s sex. Straight-up. I
get hard just thinking about her. Straight-up sex.
You lying bastard. Jack snorted in derision.
You walk away from sex. She isn’t just sex to you, bro. She’s
the fucking Fourth of July and Christmas all wrapped up in one neat
package. Kenny’s in love.
Keep it up, Jack, I’ll tell Briony you stuck a
gun to her sister’s head.
You wouldn’t dare.
Damn it. He refused to love the woman. He just
wouldn’t do it. He wasn’t going to take a chance that he could turn
ugly on her. He’d just keep her. Tie her to him. He was very
experienced at sex and she wasn’t. Keep her hot for him, wanting
him. That was the key. Forget love. Jack was full of it. That way
was disaster. This way he could keep her forever and never feel so
much as a twinge of jealousy. Keep his emotions out of it and be
safe.
Ken wiped sweat from his face and began to walk in
the narrow corridor of cement, finding his way through the maze
with nothing but Mari’s touch to guide him to her, because one way
or another—he had to reach her.