Predatory Game (6 page)

“I did?” Jess tucked the blanket around him, one eyebrow shooting up. “I was not the one who came strolling out of my bedroom wearing one of my shirts and nothing else when she came to visit.”

His smile did something to her heart. “It wasn’t like that and you know it. You didn’t even mention having a sister, dragon king. How was I to know who she was? And you know very well why I was in your bedroom, wearing your shirt.”

“Another one of your unfortunate accidents—a mud puddle, wasn’t it?”

“Laugh about it.” Saber swept a hand through her wet hair, glaring at him. “You dropped me in the mud puddle on purpose. I know you did. I wasn’t about to go dripping up the stairs and into
my
bedroom. And I wasn’t going to stand around in filthy clothes.”

“You decided all by yourself to pay me back by dirtying up my bedroom,” he pointed out. “And it wasn’t my idea for you to come out of my bedroom looking as sexy as hell when my nosy sister showed up. You did that all by yourself.”

Saber stamped one bare foot in feigned outrage. “Hey now. I did not know she was here. You could have warned me.” Only Jesse had ever made her feel this way—joy, laughter, a sense of belonging. Fun. He created fun. “I was not about to stay dirty. You knew very well I had taken a shower and put on your shirt. I was being silly—it was a joke. I did
not
look sexy. I’m totally incapable of looking sexy.”

Amusement softened the hard edge of his mouth. “Yeah? Who says? Believe me, honey, you looked sexy. I didn’t blame Patsy for jumping to the wrong conclusion.”

“And you didn’t deny it when she did,” Saber accused, snuggling deeper into his robe, wishing it were his arms, wishing she dared press her mouth to his.

“Neither did you. As I recall, you wound your arms around my neck and looked provocative.” Deliberately he provoked her, wanting the shadows gone from her eyes, wanting to see her laugh, the real thing, the one that she reserved for him alone.

“Provocative?” Violet sparks were fairly shooting through her blue eyes.

She looked young, tousled and very tempting, so small in his huge, thick terry cloth robe. If he reached out, he could catch the lapels of the robe and tug her close, bring his mouth to hers and just go up in flames.

“Provocative,” he said decisively.

“Now that is untrue and you know it, Jesse.” She wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Provocative. What rot. And you pulled me onto your lap prior to my winding my arms around your neck. Which, incidentally, was a major mistake; it should have been my hands around your throat. I had no idea Patsy was your sister. I thought she was some ex-girlfriend you wanted to get rid of. I was merely obliging you.”

“Ha!” he snorted inelegantly. “More like you thought she was a new one
you
wanted to get rid of.”

Saber’s bare feet beat a little tattoo on the floor in total frustration. She looked around for something to throw at his head, and settled for her damp towel. “You wish, caveman. Don’t flatter yourself. You are so arrogant, Jesse, it drives me crazy.”

He reached out, captured her hand, and brought her fingers to the disturbing warmth of his mouth. “You love it, baby.” His thumb feathered over her knuckles, sending little darts of fire racing along her nerve endings. “You love arguing.”

She jerked her hand away as if she’d been burned. Maybe she did, but she wasn’t admitting it. “One of these days someone is going to take you down a peg or two.”

He shrugged his powerful shoulders, his smile mocking. “It won’t be you, angel face.”

“Don’t count on it, dragon king. As it happens, my week to cook is coming up fast. I know at least seven recipes for tofu. Shape up or eat soybean.”

Jess burst out laughing, the sound so infectious she found herself joining in. “Vengeful little brat, aren’t you?”

“You know it.” Saber didn’t bother to deny the accusation. “I’m going upstairs.”

“Is that an invitation?”

“Stop leering, although I can tell you’re very experienced at it,” she retorted. “Good night.”

He let her get to the bottom of the stairs. “Don’t keep me up all night with that mournful twanging garbage you refer to as music.”

“Mournful twanging garbage?” Saber echoed, outraged. She raced up the stairs, his soft, goading laughter following on her bare heels.

He didn’t like her usual country music, did he? She rummaged through her collection of CDs. “Just the thing,” she murmured happily and cranked up the loudest, most obnoxious rap song in her collection. Jess would appreciate good country music after listening to an hour of really loud rap. She took her time in the shower, shampooing her hair, allowing warm water to cascade over her cold, shivering body. She even sang, very loudly, feeling righteous and pleased with herself.

By the time Saber had finished toweling herself off and blow-drying her hair into complete disorder, Jess was throwing things at the ceiling.

Her grin wicked, she stopped the rap music. “Did you want something, Jesse?” she called using her sweetest voice.

“I surrender. White flag,” his muffled voice replied.

“I thought you might,” Saber said smugly.

Jess shook his head as the music stopped. She had a mean streak in her. She knew he often wrote songs and that the sound of whatever she was blaring would hurt after a couple of minutes. It made him laugh, though, as he pushed the wheelchair down the hall to his private office. He keyed in his code and waited for the doors to part.

Once inside with the doors closed and locked and the security system switched on, the smile faded from his face. He was going to have to dig a little deeper and find out just who Saber Wynter really was. He couldn’t let his feelings for her get in the way of business. And God help them both if she was there to do damage, because he wasn’t altogether certain he could kill her. With a sigh, he pushed the thought from his head and went to work.

The computers and phone lines inside were all clean. He hit speed dial. “We’re clear. Send the information and let’s do this. When you come in, don’t make any noise at all. She won’t be asleep.”

“I know the drill by now.”

The abrupt click told Jess he was in for trouble. Logan Maxwell wasn’t happy with him. He hadn’t been when Jess told him about inviting Saber Wynter to live in his home. He hadn’t bought the story for one moment that Jess needed a housekeeper, any more than Saber had. Neither had pushed it. That was the power of the wheelchair. Logan would have reamed him if he hadn’t been staring down at him, facing the chair. But if Logan knew Saber was telepathic, he’d put a gun to her head, Jess’s objections be damned.

Jess rolled the wheels back and forth, rocking himself while he thought about that. Everything had some advantages, and a GhostWalker learned to take whatever he had and use it. Jess was sure as hell counting on Logan to continue to notice the chair and not the man, because Logan was like a brother, but Saber—well, Saber was wrapped around his heart. There would be nothing left if Saber was gone.

The moment Logan slipped inside the secure room, he kicked the wheel of the chair and glared at Jess. “What the hell are you doing these days? Do you have any idea what time it is? And that—that woman never goes to sleep. You’re damned lucky this room is soundproof, because she’s pacing again. What’s up with that?” He reached around Jess and poured himself a cup of coffee.

“Hello to you too.” Jess glanced up at his fellow GhostWalker. Logan was wearing a frown, his blue eyes flat and cold. “I can see you’re in a great mood.”

“We’re supposed to be catching a killer, Jess, not catering to your girlfriend.”

“Go to hell, Max,” Jess snapped. “I’m getting the job done. And if you don’t want to work with me, the door’s right there. Don’t let it hit you in the ass when you leave.”

“Whoa. What a grump.” Logan rolled his broad shoulders and flashed a small grin. “You’re not sleeping with her yet, are you? The great Jess Calhoun, studmaster of the SEAL team, shot down by his housekeeper.”

Jess responded with a rude gesture and shoved a chair at him. “You get the grunt work tonight for that crack.”

Logan dropped into the chair and they went to work, moving with the ease of much practice, sifting through the files and reports, searching for a name. A single specific name. They both hoped they’d recognize it if they came across it.

After an hour Logan pushed back and shook his head. “This looks bad for the admiral.”

“No way. It’s not him. The traitor’s hidden deep,” Jess said with a small sigh. “I will not let myself believe Admiral Henderson is in any way involved. He can’t be that good of an actor, and he sure as hell isn’t stupid. Right now he’s our only suspect, and would that be the case if he were guilty?”

“We’ve been at this for weeks, Jess,” Logan said. “Have you run across one single name that has the pull and clearance needed to orchestrate this kind of double cross, a person who has been involved with every mission?”

“He’s head of the NCIS. He’s one of the most decorated rear admirals our nation has. He’s been the sole commanding officer for our GhostWalker team since we were formed, and he’s looked out for us,” Jess protested. “It isn’t him.”

“Who then? Give me someone else.” Logan threw his hands into the air. “Anyone else. Because as far as I can see, he’s the only one who has known every time we’ve been sent out. He gave the order to send Jack to the Congo. When Jack couldn’t go, he sent Ken in his place. The Norton twins were tortured beyond human endurance. Have you seen Ken? They’re lucky they got out.”

Jess pushed his hand through his hair and slapped the desk hard with the flat of his hand in frustration. “I know. I visited him in the hospital when he first came back.”

Few people know about the GhostWalkers, even in Washington. The Special Forces teams from every branch in the military had been tested for psychic abilities, and anyone who scored high had been given the opportunity to continue forward into the GhostWalker program. The soldiers were given specialized training before, during, and after the experiments, and the results had been incredible. Of course no one had known genetic experimentation had also taken place. Knowledge of the GhostWalkers was on a need-to-know basis, beyond security clearance. They were top-secret weapons sent out only when the circumstances were dire. But someone very high in the chain of command wanted them dead.

“Someone knew. Someone knew we volunteered to be psychically enhanced, and they have to know Peter Whitney carried the experiment even further. He has God knows how many women out there he experimented on as well.” Jess shook his head. “Someone knows, Max, and it isn’t the admiral.”

“Maybe Louise Charter, the admiral’s secretary. She’s been with him twenty years, and when we investigated her before, she came out clean, but let’s go there again and see if we missed anything.” Logan knew he sounded as reluctant as he felt. They’d looked at Louise thoroughly. Nothing had been missed and they both knew it.

“My gut says it isn’t the admiral,” Jess persisted.

Logan let out his breath. “All right. Then what are we doing here? We’re looking through every single report that ever had anything to do with the GhostWalkers, except that not a single mission was ever in a report. This paperwork is all bullshit. So tell me what we’re looking for, Jess.”

“Every GhostWalker volunteered to be psychically enhanced. At least the men. While it’s true we didn’t know about the genetic enhancement, my guess is, if we had, we’d all have gone for it. Someone wants us all dead, and what we’re doing is trying to find out who.”

“True,” Logan nodded his head, knowing Jess was thinking out loud. The man was brilliant, right up there with Kadan Montague, another GhostWalker and one considered a genius. If anyone could figure the mess out, it was Jess or Kadan.

As if reading his thoughts, Jess glanced at him. “Kadan is running point for Ryland’s team. He’s looking at their commander, General Rainer. He’s finding the same thing we are. The buck stops with his general, and he doesn’t believe it any more than I believe Admiral Henderson is betraying us. So what do we know for certain, Max? We have to go back to the beginning on this one if we’re going to unravel the mess and find our traitor.”

Logan shot him a faint grin. “We know for absolute certain that we were all as dumb as jackasses to agree, and that we’re all royally screwed. Well, with the sad exception of you, who can’t get your housekeeper to cooperate and give you one or two extras. That might change if you weren’t such a cheap son of a bitch.”

“I might throw you out in another minute.” Jess’s voice was mild.

“Actually she’s kind of cute,” Logan persisted. “And when she talks on the radio, man she sounds like sin. Maybe I’ll give it a try and see if she likes my type.”

“I’d have to shoot you,” Jess said. The walls expanded and contracted. Beneath his chair the floor shifted ever so slightly, and on the desk several objects moved. He took a deep breath and let it out.

Logan was joking. Teasing. The kind of bantering they always did back and forth, but for some reason, the mere thought of Logan hitting on Saber sent his gut twisting into hard knots.

Logan glanced around, leaned back in his chair, and laced his fingers behind his head. “You know you picked a bad time, Jess.”

Jess sighed, not bothering to pretend he didn’t know what Logan was talking about. Hell yeah, he’d picked the wrong time and the wrong woman. “Yeah, I’m very aware of that. Don’t worry, I have my priorities straight.”

“Do you? Because this could get ugly. If the wrong person gets wind of this investigation, they’ll come after you, my friend. They’ll kill you and her. And most likely they’ll do to both of you the kinds of things that were done to Ken, just to see what you know and who you told.”

Jess knew Logan was right. Worse, he knew he had put himself and maybe even his team members in jeopardy by not revealing that Saber was telepathic. Dr. Peter Whitney had experimented on young girls years earlier, and there was no doubt in his mind that Saber was one of these women. She could have other, much more dangerous, psychic gifts. Most of the GhostWalkers did. But he couldn’t give her up. It made no sense, but he couldn’t do it—not yet.