Conspiracy Game (7 page)

Jack instantly relaxed his hold on the wet strands and then scowled, shocked that he’d done so. What in the hell was wrong with him? She was a potential enemy. There was no doubt in his mind that someone had set him up, and it had to be a conspiracy among several people to place him in the hornet’s nest—and that meant they had used his feelings for his brother against him. Ken had been lured in—captured and tortured for one purpose, and that was to bring Jack to Africa. Someone knew Jack’s triggers and they were using them ruthlessly against him. Briony Jenkins was definitely a GhostWalker, no matter what she said. And how big a coincidence was it that a friend—a fellow SEAL—was in Kinshasa at the same precise time? “Damn it, I don’t believe in coincidences.”

Briony turned her head to look at him, startled that he was thinking the exact same thing she was thinking. Had someone maneuvered her brother into Kinshasa for some purpose other than to play the music festival? “Neither do I.” She studied his ravaged body, horror and compassion creeping in despite her resolve not to be swayed by him.

Jack had been tortured. Deep cuts and burns marred his chest, shoulders, and belly. His eyes were flat and cold and hard as stone, yet no one could have suffered such abuse and not be in terrible pain.
And she wasn’t feeling it
. She always felt human and even animal suffering if she was in close proximity to it. It was almost a relief to her to be near him. He seemed to provide the necessary filters she didn’t have in order to function around people.

“My God. How can you be walking around? Did the rebels do that?” Her voice came out a hoarse whisper. Before she could stop herself, she stepped forward and reached out to touch his muscle just above where the skin was shredded. “You need a doctor. You’re already infected.”

A tremor ran through his body at her touch. So light. A mere drift of the pad of her fingers, but he felt it through his entire body. “We have to keep moving. I pissed off their general.” He watched her face for a reaction, but she was staring in horror at his wounds.

“I can’t feel your pain.” Her dark gaze rose to meet his. “Why is that? You know, don’t you? You know why I’m different, why I can’t function like everyone else. No one else would have known I could stay under water like that, not even my brothers. Why? What am I? What are you?”

C
HAPTER 
3

J
ack’s
gaze moved restlessly through the forest. “We have to keep moving. The rebels are searching for me and they aren’t going to stop.”

“Answer me,” Briony insisted. He was swaying on his feet and didn’t even know it. The man was going to collapse, and there was no way she could leave him to die.

“GhostWalkers are enhanced both physically and psychically.”

Her heart began to pound. “How did they get that way?”

Jack took a step and his legs went out from under him. Briony caught him before he hit the ground. He tried to push her away. “Go. Keep moving. Circle back through the forest until you’re on the edge of town. They’ll be watching, so use the trees if you have to, but get out of here.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Amusement crept into his eyes. “I don’t think anyone’s ever told me to shut up before.” His arm slid around her shoulders, one finger pushing the wet strands of hair behind her ear.

“I have a lot of brothers, so don’t let it go to your head. Why are men such idiots, anyway?” Like she could leave him now. Her brothers would have told her the exact same thing. She blew her hair out of her eyes and looked around her. Jack was a heavy man. He’d lost too much blood and his skin was fiery hot, indicating fever. “Okay, tough guy, you’re going to lean on me and we’re going to start back toward the city. And don’t waste energy arguing. Just do it.”

Her mind was racing with the possibilities. Could she have been enhanced physically and psychically? It made more sense than being born so different. She could run faster, jump higher, stay under water longer, do things no one else she’d ever met could do. How? When? All the visits to her special doctor, the one she detested, the one her parents insisted she go to, were beginning to make sense.

She slipped her arm around Jack’s waist and took most of his weight. If she wasn’t enhanced, how could she practically carry a man of his size? He was twice her weight. “How were we enhanced?”

“Dr. Whitney.”

Her mouth went dry. She knew that name. Knew he was the one who had put her up for adoption, who had designed her education and provided medical care for her and her family her entire life. Her birth father? Had he even been her father? What was she? Some kind of freak experiment?

Her mind began racing with the possibilities.
Why were they both there in Kinshasa?
Was it a coincidence that Jack and her brother Jebediah were in the service together? What were the odds that they would all end up in Africa together, especially since someone had paid an exorbitant amount of money to get them there?

Briony risked a brief glance at Jack’s face. Even ravaged by pain and suffering, he was handsome in a masculine, chiseled sort of way. His features seemed carved out of stone, not real, but hard and weathered while remaining good-looking. He kept his gaze focused ahead, walking steadily, but more and more his weight was on her. The slow blood loss, coupled with exhaustion and his terrible wounds, was taking its toll. “Keep walking. One foot in front of the other.” The closer she got him to the city, the less distance she’d have to carry him—and it looked like carrying was going to be involved.

They struggled for about a mile, following the stream. Briony had paused to get a better grip on him, when he suddenly pushed her to the ground, covering her body with his. His skin changed color to match the darker vegetation on the forest floor, and she immediately did her best to match his stripes. Jack had been nearly unconscious, but suddenly he was alert, pulling a handgun and signaling her to silence.

What is it?

Sniper. He’s been tracking me since I escaped the rebel camp. He’s damned dangerous. You should have left when I told you to go.

Briony’s heart tripped into overtime and she tasted the familiar dryness of fear. She took a deep breath to combat the adrenaline and forced her mind away from panic as she lay listening.
He’s behind us and to our right.

That would be him. Hopefully he didn’t spot us while I was being careless.

Briony squeezed her eyes closed tight and tried not to breathe. She hoped not, as well. She couldn’t let this man suffer any more. No matter who he was or what he’d done, no one deserved to be tortured like he had been. She took a deep breath.
Are you a good shot?

Jack looked at her.
You aren’t going to do anything stupid.

You’re going to pass out, tough guy. I know the signs. We don’t have all that much time and we can’t afford him behind us. I’m a good shot—but…
She hesitated.

Jack’s hand tightened on the nape of her neck.
Whatever you’re thinking—don’t.

Briony knew they couldn’t outwait the sniper. Jack was going to pass out. How he’d rallied enough to know what was going on was beyond her.
I’m thinking I’m scared.

Don’t be. I’ll get you out of this. See those trees to our right? I’m going to cover you. You do a slow crawl to the trees and get into the branches. Use the branches to make it to the river. Keep your skin camouflaged and don’t draw attention to yourself.
Jack slipped her the handgun.
You know how to use this thing?

Briony hesitated then put her hand over the gun. There was no way to explain to him what the aftermath of violence could do to her. Feeling someone’s emotions, feeling them die would bring a total meltdown. On the other hand, she was well trained, an expert marksman, and she believed in self-defense.
I know how to use it.

He turned toward the region of forest where he was certain the sniper followed them. On his belly, eye to the scope, he waved her forward.
Go. Get out of here. Don’t stop moving until you’re safe in your room.

Briony inched her way through the ferns and rotting leaves, her heart pounding overly loud. She detested being a coward, wondering why, with all her special skills, she was always so afraid. She made it to the trees and crouched in the deepest shadows, studying the branches and vines for the best shelter, for the best position. With her extraordinary night vision, she was able to see some twenty-five feet up and over two trees, to a particularly large tree trunk with an umbrella of branches spreading in every direction, perfect for her needs.

Briony leapt to the lowest branch of the nearest tree and began to climb swiftly. She was slight, her body made for the aerial acts she’d practiced since she was a toddler. It was easy to use the vines to pull herself through the trees until she reached the tree beside the one with the larger, thicker trunk. She had taken care to stay hidden within the foliage when she climbed, but now she deliberately reached out and shook a branch, not too hard, just enough to give away her position.

What the hell are you doing?

Drawing his fire to give you a target.

You do that again and I swear I’ll beat you within an inch of your life.

She could hear the menace prowling through his declaration—but felt it was an empty threat. Jack was a scary man, but he wasn’t a man who would ever beat a woman—just the opposite in fact—unless she was the enemy. She’d caught that information in his mind.
Well, I’m not leaving you behind. Get ready to shoot something because I’m going to let him see me.

Damn it. Just damn it.

Helpless male rage filled her mind, but she didn’t wait—couldn’t wait. Her courage was going to fail if she didn’t act right then. Briony allowed the branch of the tree to sway just a little more, as if something heavy had stepped onto it. There was no wind in the forest, and the movement would draw the eye of the sniper instantly. Briony leapt to the next tree, sheltering behind the wide trunk, just as the bullet sent splinters of bark showering over her. Several pieces embedded in her arm and one in her chin. On the heels of the first shot came the second.

Tell me you’re all right.

Briony clung to the tree, forcing her knees to be stiff when her legs had turned to rubber. The bullet had hit only inches from her head. The sniper had fired a lot faster than she’d anticipated. She sagged against the trunk and waited for her body to stop shaking. Blood trickled from the stinging wounds, but the splinters were mere scratches when it could have been so much worse.
Did you get him?

Stay still. There were two of them. I took out the sniper, but his spotter is just as capable. You aren’t hit.
Jack made it a statement as he kept his eye to the scope, waiting for a shot at the spotter. He detested the fact that he was distracted by worry. He was worried about her.
Answer me now or I’m coming to you.
He would too. He’d risk getting shot just to make certain there wasn’t a scratch on her body—at least not one he hadn’t put there. His fingers itched to shake her for taking such a chance.