Ruthless Game

CHAPTER 4

Contractions. Kane’s stomach dropped right out of his body. He stared down at her, his mind going fuzzy. That was one of those words like menstruation, period, or female products. The list just wasn’t uttered in male company. Contractions fit right in there. God. This was not happening. He forced his brain under control, ignoring the pounding in his head and the roaring in his ears.

He studied Rose’s body carefully. She wasn’t due for another four or five weeks, right? He knew when she got pregnant. When he’d first seen her, she had looked slim, but that had been an illusion. On the other hand, she never looked as—big—as she did at that moment.

“What?” Rose demanded, glaring up at him.

The warning signal flashed bright red in Kane’s head. Telling a woman she was as big as a beach ball wouldn’t win any points. How did one describe how she looked? A basketball? Volleyball? He studied her furious little face. Yeah. He was in trouble no matter what he said. Description was out of the question. He needed diplomacy, something that flew out the window when he was near her and she said words like contractions.

He’d jump out of a plane without hesitation in the heart of enemy territory, but damn it all, ask him to kill someone, not deliver babies. She didn’t take her eyes off him, and that expression on her scowling face demanded an answer.

He cast about desperately in his mind and then hit on a way out. He shrugged, trying to look casual as well as impressed. “You managed such a great illusion, looking slim earlier, it was hard to remember it was an illusion.” There. A compliment. He hadn’t stepped into the mud and sunk—yet. She was still looking at him, hands on her hips, waiting for more. He was beginning to sweat. Hell.

“You can’t possibly be ready to have the baby.”

“Which is why I wasn’t already here.” She had a little bite in her voice. “I still had several weeks to bring in supplies. Thank God the birthing kit I put together is here.”

He squeezed his eyes shut tight and let out a groan of his own. Birthing kit. Just add that to the growing list of banned words. Okay. He took a deep breath and let it out. Someone had to take control of the situation, and obviously she was too exhausted to do so. Someone had to man up and set her straight. There was no one else.

“Then stop. Right now. Just stop.”

“Stop?” she echoed in a near shriek.

“Look, Rose.” He used his most soothing, reasonable tone. “Doing this now would just be illogical. The baby isn’t quite ready, and we’re too far from help. Just think about something else. You’re upset and worried and you need to rest.”

Her mouth opened and closed twice. She looked at him as if he’d grown two heads. “Are you kidding me?” she demanded. “Because this isn’t the time to be joking around.”

She looked as if she was contemplating ripping his belly open with a knife and proving something to him. He took a cautionary step back and held up a hand to placate her. It was clear to him that pregnancy made women insane.

“I’m trying to help you, Rose. These—these ...” Hell. He wasn’t going to use the word contractions; that would make it too real. “These pains you’re experiencing, maybe they’re something else. The fall from the car could have caused them.” And that was more than a reasonable assumption.

“They started before the jump from the car.”

His stomach tightened into half a dozen hard knots. “Then why the hell didn’t you get on that helicopter where we could get you medical help?” he demanded, angry all over again. “Damn it, woman, do you have any sense at all?” Now she was making him just as insane as she obviously was.

“Whitney is not getting this baby. I don’t know those men you were so willing to send me off with. I have a plan, and it doesn’t include getting on the helicopter. And don’t yell at me. I’m in a delicate condition.”

She looked suspiciously amused now. He wanted to shake her. Instead he took a long-suffering breath and let it out to force himself to be calm and reasonable. Reason and logic were the keys to dealing with a woman in her condition. “Is there a possibility that you hurt yourself in the jump? That these pains are something else?”

She shrugged. “I’m hoping they’re Braxton Hicks contractions. Sometimes a woman can have false labor weeks before she goes into labor.”

Relief exploded through him. Of course. He’d just been thrown for a minute. Braxton Hicks sounded like the real thing. “Okay then. That sounds good. Let’s just get you in bed to rest. All this running around can’t be good for you. I can hike back tomorrow to the ravine and find the tracker and ...” He broke off, frowning. “Why are you shaking your head?”

“You are such a chicken. Bock. Bock. Bock.”

He refused to allow her very bad chicken impression to ruffle his feathers. He was above petty name-calling. The point was getting her in bed and out of danger. She couldn’t fixate on the pain, and it would just go away. He was certain of it. “Come on, Rose,” he said, keeping his voice low and gentle. “I’ll help you to the bathroom.”

She rolled her eyes. “Keep in mind I killed a man a few hours ago for less. I can make it to the bathroom on my own. Just turn on the generator and get me some hot water—please.”

He turned away from her before he shook some sense into her. He was trying to help her. Didn’t she get that? Kane stalked through the kitchen into the pantry where she had stocked meager supplies. While searching the house he had discovered the generator. He crouched down to study it. It ran on gas. There were four large cylinders feeding it. He started it, shocked at how loud it was. When he closed the door behind him, he realized the room was soundproof. The generator couldn’t be heard outside the room where it was housed.

“You hungry?” he called. He was starving.

“Not really,” she called back.

She sounded so weary and, if he was not mistaken, close to tears. He needed to find a way to connect with her. For all her bravado, she had to be scared. She’d chosen him to be her partner, and she was counting on him. She hadn’t tried to run from him. If she’d been serious about shooting him, she would have pulled the trigger without hesitation. She was a GhostWalker, trained practically from birth. She didn’t want him dead. She wanted his help.

He stood in the middle of the pantry, head hanging down, dragging in deep breaths. He had little fear when it came to confronting an enemy. But assisting at a birth—he shook his head. No way. Not when it was Rose. He had to get her to a hospital. If he could get to Mack, his team would come rescue them and bring a doctor.

Lights flickered on in the bedroom, and he heard her moving around. He turned them on in the pantry to inventory their supplies. She’d stocked the place mainly with canned foods, but she’d included protein such as ham and tuna and chicken. She had several shelves of vegetables and a variety of soups. He wasn’t going to starve. He brought out a can of chicken and rice soup and heated it, hoping to tempt her to eat something.

The shower abruptly went off as he poured two bowls and put them on a tray. The tray was intricate, hand-painted, and expensive. He gave her a few minutes to towel off and slide into bed. “Can I come in, Rose?” He didn’t want her to feel threatened in any way, although, if he was being honest with himself, he believed she belonged to him and he had the right to walk into her bedroom. He wanted her to feel the same way.

“I’ m decent.”

He paused in the doorway. She looked small, a porcelain doll with eyes too big for her face. The shape of almonds, they were dark and mysterious, eyes a man could fall into and never find his way out of. She looked exotic, her hair disheveled and still damp, midnight black, cascading around her face, giving her that little pixie look. He could have sworn tears stained her face, but her eyes were clear.

“I brought soup just in case you changed your mind. Are the pains easing up at all?” He manfully kept the hopeful note out of his tone.

“All the activity must have set them off. They seem to be getting farther apart, and they’re shorter in duration. From all the research I’ve done, that means false labor.”

He felt like a man given a reprieve right before a death sentence, but he kept his features expressionless. He wanted her to count on him, and she couldn’t do that if she knew he was petrified of delivering a baby.

“Will you try to eat something?” He walked farther into the room and set the tray on the end table. “It might help.”

She flashed him a smile that told him he didn’t know what he was talking about, but she picked up the bowl of soup and spoon, sank down in the middle of the bed, tailor fashion, her back against the headboard, and regarded him steadily. “So? You found an escape tunnel. I’ve been looking around. Everything of value is gone. I didn’t pay attention to that when he sent me here the first time. I was just so happy to find a safe place to give birth.”

He nodded his head. “That makes sense.” The son of a bitch would have known she was desperate to find a sanctuary for her child. Jimenez had dangled the house like a carrot in front of her.

“What do you think it all means?” She patted the bed beside her in invitation and moved to the far side of the mattress to give him room.

Sitting with her on a bed might not be the best of ideas. He wouldn’t be making any moves on her, not while she was so pregnant she looked like she might explode, but his body didn’t have the same sense his brain did. The moment he saw her or smelled her, every cell in his body went on alert.

“I’m not going to bite,” she said.

He realized he’d hesitated too long. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” Which was partially true.

“It isn’t like we haven’t shared a bed before,” she reminded.

Immediately the image of her writhing beneath him rose up to haunt him. His cock reacted, hard and full and aching, desperate for the feel of her tight, hot sheath surrounding him. Cursing under his breath, he eased his body gingerly onto the bed, trying not to inhale and draw her scent into his lungs.

“Are you going to tell me what you think about Diego Jimenez?” she prompted.

“Tell me how you met him,” Kane said. “I need all the information to make any kind of judgment.” The soup tasted good. He hadn’t eaten for hours and realized he was very hungry. He nudged her with his shoulder. “Just try it, sweetheart.”

She surprised him by eating a few spoonfuls before she spoke. “I’d been moving, staying in the back country or in the mountains mostly. There were women willing to help me when they found out I was pregnant, but I knew I had to find a place Whitney wouldn’t be able to track me so easily to have the baby. I couldn’t take the chance of a doctor or midwife writing anything on paper. Whitney is searching for me; I know because he sent a couple of his goons on two occasions that I know of. I barely escaped both times.”

“How the hell did he find you?”

“I don’t know. I tried looking for a second tracking device. There was one in my hip, but I removed it myself. I got rid of all my clothes, everything I had previously owned, but he always seems to be breathing down my neck.” She looked at him. “I promised you I would take care of the baby and keep her out of Whitney’s hands, and I mean to keep that promise.”

“Why the hell did you pull a gun on me, Rose? You knew I helped you escape. You knew I turned him in. I risked my career and my life to try to get his ugly program dragged into the light of day.”

She took a couple more spoonfuls of soup, her gaze downcast, but he felt her stiffen, as if steadying herself to tell him the truth. “I was afraid. I knew you trusted your team; I could tell by the way you worked with them, that easy camaraderie that only comes when people have relied on one another through dangerous situations. You told me to get on the helicopter, but you weren’t getting on with me. You would have sent me away.”

“Where you would have been safe and had medical attention,” he reminded. He could tell she found it difficult to admit that she was afraid.

She bent her head again, and he couldn’t help but look at the vulnerable nape of her neck. He had the sudden urge to lean over and brush his mouth over that soft spot.

“I needed you, Kane, not your friends. They aren’t my friends. They aren’t people I trust. I’ve lived too long in captivity and I’ve had a taste of freedom. I won’t let our child live like I had to, with Whitney documenting every single moment of my life and dictating what I could and couldn’t do.”

“I understand.” And damn it all, he did. She’d been trained to be a soldier, experimented on, and then shoved into a breeding program. It was a monstrous life she’d led, and had it been him, he would have done anything to get free and stay that way. “Tell me about Jimenez.”

She flashed a brief, rather wan smile. “I’m getting there in my own roundabout way. I knew I had to find a safe place to have the baby, and just in case, learn how to deliver it myself.”

“You fucking have to be kidding me, Rose,” he burst out. “You make me crazy. You really do. Both of you could die, don’t you know that?”

“Of course I know it,” she said. “I’m not crazy and I’m not stupid. I’m careful, Kane. I studied hard. I was careful to learn about pregnancy and what I needed to make the baby healthy.”

“You didn’t have a blood test, or any of the tests, did you?”

“How could I?” she defended. She sounded close to tears. “I did the best I could for her. Better both of us dead than back with Whitney.”

Kane put the empty soup bowl down and slipped his arm around her shoulder. “I know you did. It’s just the thought of you out there alone, trying to figure it all out by yourself, when I should have been there with you, makes me want to shoot somebody.”

She leaned into him. “Preferably not me.”

He laughed at her choice of words. “Not you, sweetheart. You might make me want to pull out every hair on my head, but I’d never hurt you.”

Rose studied Kane’s face—that face she dreamt about for eight long months. His beautiful, masculine carved features and his vivid piercing green eyes took her breath away. She couldn’t look too long at him, afraid he’d see her reaction. From the window of her cell and the workout yard, she’d watched him just like a stalker might. Looking had turned into longing. He was a strong, confident male, definitely one who was skilled in his chosen profession. She watched other males, all strong as well, step back when he walked through a small crowd, yet he always seemed to treat everyone fairly. She loved everything about him from his wide shoulders to the strong lines in his face and his sudden, heart-stopping smile.

She had dreamt of him long before she betrayed him. Wanting him. Building fantasies and unrealistic dreams until she became almost obsessed with him. When Whitney insisted on bringing in those horrible men with their lecherous smiles, uncaring that she didn’t want them, men willing to force her, she’d become a desperate woman who would do anything to escape. A woman who would sell another human being into a living hell to gain her own freedom. She swallowed hard and looked away, ashamed of her need and her cowardice. She sold him out, and even now, she couldn’t let him go.

“Rose, what is it?”

His voice was so gentle it turned her heart over. She felt his baby kick inside her, a strong reminder she would always have a part of him. The soup tasted like ashes now, the seeds of guilt and shame stripping her of all appetite. She placed the bowl on the nightstand. He was a man of honor, and she’d taken his pride, forced him into an untenable position with no way out. He loathed himself for getting her pregnant, and no matter how many times she told him it had been her choice, her decision, he refused to allow her to shoulder the blame. He was waiting patiently for her to answer his simple question—“What is it?”—but the answer wasn’t nearly as simple as the question.

“I’m sorry I got you into this, Kane, but I’m not sorry you’re here with me. I’m afraid.”

There. She’d admitted it out loud. If the truth were told, she was terrified. She was so tired and she desperately needed to rest, to spend twenty-four hours without fear.

She’d been alone for so long, scared for herself and for the baby. She looked up at him, ashamed, but unable to lie to him. “I need you.”

She loved his face, all those hard lines, his strong jaw, those cool, clear eyes. There was no subterfuge in Kane. He didn’t have a hidden agenda—not like she had. He didn’t lie about how he felt. He didn’t hide the fact that his body wanted her and he was uncomfortable with it. She doubted if there were too many men like him in the world. She didn’t need just anyone; she needed him.

“I figured that out when I came up behind you in the room and you didn’t put up much resistance.” He smoothed back the hair falling around her face and ran the pad of his thumb down her skin.

Rose tried not to shiver. Just as he’d entered the room where she waited for the informant, she’d inhaled and drawn his scent deep into her body, down into her lungs. She’d wanted to hold him there forever. She’d been so shocked that Kane had been the one to come for the hostages. Could a woman fall in love with a man just by observing him? By watching him through a window? She was afraid she lived in a dream world, not reality, because she had been alone and frightened far too long. There was no one else but Kane. Who else did she have? The other women in the compound had escaped and scattered to the winds, leaving her to face the birth of her baby alone. She wanted to burrow into him, stay in his arms where she felt safe, where she felt she finally had a sanctuary.

He thought he’d hurt her when he’d had sex with her, that she had chosen him as the lesser of all evils—and maybe that was true to a small extent—but he’d made her feel beautiful and special when no one ever had. He made her feel as if she mattered for the first time in her life. He’d been so gentle. She dreamt of him nearly every night, and now, being so close to him, the image of him rising above her, his body locked deep inside hers, flooded her mind and refused to leave.

“Rose,” he prompted. “Talk to me about Jimenez. I think it’s important. How did you meet the man?”

“Diego moved into the apartment across the street from mine.”

“After you, then. You were already established in your apartment?”

Rose nodded, her heart beginning to pound. She knew where this was going now, and she couldn’t believe she’d allowed herself to be duped.

“Who lived in that apartment when you first arrived? And why did they leave?”

She was so tired. She just wanted to weep. And go to sleep. She shifted, a subtle movement, sliding closer to him, dropping her head on his chest. He had one of those thick chests that inspired fantasies and made a woman feel perfectly safe. She was very fond of his chest—a little hard though—but she found the perfect spot for her head. His arms closed around her, and her heart jumped. So did the baby. She closed her eyes and took his hand to press his palm to her belly where their child played. Beneath his palm, the baby pushed as if in greeting.

Rose expected him to pull his hand away, but his fingers, beneath hers, spread wide to take in more. She relaxed a little, allowing some of the tension to ease from her body. “There was a multi-generation family in the apartment when I first moved in. It was crowded, so I just figured they’d found a bigger place to live.”

“Had they told anyone they were moving?”

She was disgusted with herself. The family had children. The kids would have talked to their friends about leaving, and word would have gone along the street and through the neighborhood like wildfire. That was how it worked, and yet she hadn’t even given it a thought that the family had moved in the night and the elderly gentleman had moved in the next day. She sighed out loud, letting him know she was aware of screwing up. “No, they hadn’t told anyone. There was no gossip. I heard them leave, of course. I heard everything. A truck came, and men I assumed were friends loaded the furniture onto the truck.”

“Had you ever seen the friends before?”

“No. And now that I’m thinking about it, I didn’t see any of the family the entire day prior to the move. Not even their son, and he always was in the street with the other boys in the neighborhood. I can’t believe I just walked right into their trap.”

“Whitney plays games, Rose. He loves to play his games.”

“I don’t understand.” There were tears in her voice, burning her eyes, clogging her throat. She was so damned tired. She didn’t want to appear weak to him—he already thought she didn’t have a brain in her head and she was out of shape—but the thought of Whitney still orchestrating her life depressed her beyond belief.

His palm brushed caresses over her belly, a soothing motion that not only calmed the restless baby but eased some of the tension out of her. “He has to have some sort of way to track you, Rose, and when you managed to elude his private little army of psycho GhostWalkers, he thought you were worthy enough to play one of his games.”

Rose was silent, turning over the idea in her mind. She couldn’t remember a time in her life when she had been anywhere but a military compound training for combat. Whitney had watched every move they made. There had been no privacy, everything documented as if he were studying insects under glass. He had often tried to pit them against one another when they were little girls. He had tried hard to make them rivals, and then later, wanted them cohesive, working as a unit. Yes, he liked psychological warfare. Everything was an experiment to him. He liked to create situations, sit back, and see what developed, and found amusement in watching them all figure out what he was doing.

“How is he tracking me, Kane?”

He frowned up at the ceiling. “I don’t know yet, sweetheart, but it has to be by satellite, and the feed is intermittent, which explains why he keeps losing you between the times he sends his team after you. And it explains why, once he knew you were in this country, he decided to isolate you in a spot where he could send a team in under the radar and pick you up.”

“Before I have the baby?”

“I don’t think so. I think he’ll wait until you’re vulnerable and weak. He wants you both, and he knows you’re going to fight him.”

She turned her head up to look at him, although she continued to rest against his chest. “Then we have time.”

“If I’m right. It makes sense. If you buy Jimenez’s story and retreat here to wait for the birth of your baby, all he has to do is wait until he’s certain you had the baby and send in his force. You’ll be weak and vulnerable. You’ll be afraid the child will get hurt, and he’ll have all the leverage he’ll need to use against you. Cooperate or you won’t see your child. That’s Whitney’s logic, and it’s actually sound.”

“Except you’re here, and he doesn’t know that.”

“The mission was covert, and he has no idea anyone was sent in, let alone my particular team. But he’ll find out eventually. He has sources placed high in the administration.”

“I need to rest, Kane. Just a day or two. Hopefully my body will settle down and I can move without risking an early birth.”

She was asking permission, and she hated that. It was important to her to make her own decisions, but she needed his protection, and if she was relying on his strength, she’d better use all of it, including his judgment.

Kane nuzzled the top of her head with his chin. Her heart jumped a second time. She held her breath, waiting—needing. “I think resting might be the lesser of two evils. I want you somewhere safe to have the baby, Rose, but the baby has to be safe too. Running without thinking is plain foolish. We’ll take precautions and give you a day or two to rest. But I want to find out how he’s tracking you.”

Relief washed through her. She didn’t have to move, hopefully not for at least twenty-four hours. She didn’t have to be vigilant or do anything but crawl under the covers and go to sleep. Kane was there, and he’d watch out for their baby.

As if reading her mind, Kane suggested, “You’re falling asleep, sweetheart. Slide under the covers and close your eyes.”

“I have to brush my teeth first. But don’t worry, once I’m under the covers, I’ll be asleep,” she assured, allowing the first tendril of happiness to sneak in.

Rose knew she was dropping her guard and she was going to get hurt, but did it have to matter right at that moment? She felt brittle—full of tiny holes as if pieces of her were long gone and spiderweb cracks veined the shell of her body. One wrong move and she would shatter. She was drowning, pure and simple. She had no reserve left and was running on empty. If Kane didn’t save her, she was going down for the last time, and this time, she wouldn’t come up again.

“Rose.”

Her heart thudded in her chest. His voice was so incredible, a sexy, low tone that resonated through her entire body. He made her feel different—feminine instead of a soldier with death on her hands. He made her feel as if life could be lived with laughter and happiness a part of it.

“Look at me, sweetheart.”

If she did, her heart would be in her eyes. Her lashes fluttered reluctantly. She was not going to cry again. What was wrong with her? She hadn’t cried once until she laid eyes on him again. She didn’t want to look like a tragic drama queen to him. She was just so tired, and, if she was honest, so happy to see him.

He caught her chin and forced her head up. The pounding in her chest was alarming. The baby drummed against her ribs, almost as frantic as she was. She moistened her lips, steeling herself to meet those gorgeous eyes. She was so broken, and Kane was the kind of man who would fix a woman, the rescuer, the hero, a man who could be counted on. She was using a good man, and she hated herself for it. The shame would be there in her eyes for him to see as well as her heart.

The pad of his thumb brushed over her lips, and her womb clenched. The baby shifted. She forced herself to lift her lashes and look into his eyes. Everything in her stilled—settled. Kane, with his tough face and piercing eyes, looked at her and saw her. She could tell he wasn’t looking past her or at an illusion she created. He saw her weaknesses, and it was all right with him. She didn’t have to hide from him. She didn’t have to project what he wanted to see. For the first time in her life she could just be herself in front of another human being.

“Are you afraid of me?”

She hadn’t expected the question. Her mouth went dry. Was she? Not in the way he meant. Kane, for all of his ferocious soldier abilities, was gentle inside. She’d known that the moment she laid eyes on him. He could shift into battle in a moment, become a fierce protector, a fighter, and she had no doubt he would kill swiftly if need be, but he was gentle inside where it counted.

“No ...” She had difficulty maintaining eye contact when that wasn’t exactly the truth. He deserved truth from her, and she’d promised herself she’d give it to him, no matter the cost, if he stayed with her. “Yes.”

He leaned forward and brushed his mouth along hers. Featherlight. The breath of hope. Stealing her soul. Her heart jerked. Her stomach somersaulted. She held herself very still while sensations poured through her veins and rushed to invade her cells. She’d already taken him deep into her lungs, and she knew she’d never be able to get him out again.

“You smell a little like heaven, Rose,” he said and shifted his weight, moving off the bed in one fluid motion that reminded her of flowing water. “I keep my promises. If you believe nothing else, believe that.”

She did believe he kept his promises. She believed in him. And that was the entire problem. She was a woman who had been betrayed at birth by her own parents, dumped in an orphanage because she wasn’t male. The orphanage betrayed her by selling her to Whitney. Whitney betrayed her by raising her as a soldier instead of a child, and then conducting his experiments. In the end, he’d taken everything from her, including her dignity, forcing her into a breeding program, reducing all those years of work and discipline to nothing at all. He treated her as if it was only her body that mattered, not her psychic talent or all of her training. She was intelligent and able to fight as well as the male GhostWalkers, but Whitney had denied her even that. Believing in anyone was absolutely insane. Yet there was Kane.

Kane left her there on the bed, taking the empty soup bowls with him. It was difficult to leave, but he was scaring her, and that was the last thing he wanted. She was stressed enough and in a delicate condition. He could stitch his own wounds and those of his team. He’d even been known to push a bullet through his skin a time or two, but this baby thing had him rattled. He didn’t have a clue what to do in the particular situation.

At the door he paused and looked back at her. She seemed so small and lost and alone. “I’ll be back in a few minutes to tuck you in.”

That bought him a ghost of a smile. “I’m not three.”

“I know. I’m not doing it for you.” He turned and walked away from the sight of her.

She was enough to break any man’s heart. For one moment he wished he was the hero type, the white knight charging in to save her, but he was a man, awkward in the presence of women, and he’d already made a few blunders. He washed the few dishes and went back into the pantry to look at the birthing kit—just in case.

He was a man who believed in preparing for emergencies. Having babies fell under that category. Beside the kit she’d put together were several books, and because he was reluctant to open the sealed plastic container and look at the contents, he browsed through the books. The titles told him a lot about Rose. She planned well for things.

One book was on natural childbirth, another focused on nutrition for the pregnant woman. Both books had been read many times. The pages were worn and dog-eared. Another book on parenting caught his attention. He flipped through it and found many passages underlined. There were notes in the margin Rose had made to herself, multiple reminders to find other titles on various subjects. Like Kane, Rose could kill a man with her bare hands without blinking, but diapering a baby was out of their realm of expertise.

He closed the book slowly, the revelation hitting him hard. She had to be every bit as scared as he was over the birth of their child. She had no more experience than he did. Just because she was a woman didn’t mean that she understood any of this. She’d never had parents to give her a blueprint. Neither of them had the least idea of what they were doing, but at least Rose was trying. She was determined that their child would have the chance in life she never had—to grow up in a loving home.

Kane had grown up on the streets. He didn’t know any more about parenting than Rose did, but he had a family. His team were all members of that family, GhostWalkers every one of them, intensely loyal to one another. They would extend that same loyalty to Rose and his child.

His child. He sank into a chair a bit overwhelmed by the idea. He’d searched for Rose for months because he was tied up in knots with wanting her, but he hadn’t honestly thought too much about what it would mean if she was truly pregnant. His child. Their child together. They had created life. Both had DNA that wasn’t altogether human, and both had psychic gifts. What would that mean for their child? Rose hadn’t had the benefit of doctors for prenatal care. He rubbed his temples.

A child was a huge responsibility. Did he want that? Hell yes. The moment he fit his palm over Rose’s belly, swollen with his child, the baby had rocked his world. That little flutter pressing hard against his hand to let him know there was life there, a life they’d created together, had found its way into his heart. He was solidly with Rose—Whitney was not getting their son.

He padded silently back into the bedroom, the birthing book in his hand. Rose looked at him, her expression drowsy—and sexy. He nearly groaned aloud. Was it perverted to find her incredibly sexy in her present physical condition? He should have brought the other book, the one about how her body changed during pregnancy. It had advice for husbands. He liked the way the word fit. Husband. Yeah. He could do that—with Rose.

“I just came in to say good night,” he offered, keeping his tone low.

“I’m glad you did. I wanted to say I’m glad you’re here. You can sleep here. It isn’t as if we haven’t shared a bed,” she added. “There’s plenty of room.”

He wasn’t getting in a bed with her. What was she thinking? His body was already doing enough raging at him. “I think it’s best to keep a lookout.” They wouldn’t be coming until the following night, he was fairly certain, but he wasn’t taking any chances. He wasn’t going to sleep and leave her vulnerable. “I think I’ll catch up on my reading.”

She flashed a small smile. “Good choice there. But I really don’t mind about the bed if you change your mind.”

“Thanks. If I get too tired, I’ll keep that in mind.” He turned to leave.

“Don’t go. Not until I fall asleep. I feel ... safer with you in the room.”

“The lamp won’t bother you?”

She closed her eyes, settling against the pillow. Kane walked silently across the room and pulled the comforter closer to her chin, knowing he was using the gesture as an excuse to touch her again. Her skin was soft beyond his memories, and her hair against the pillow looked like a fall of blue black silk. Her lashes were long and feathery, as midnight black as her hair. He felt at peace when he looked at her, which, considering the state of arousal she put his body in, was strange. His whole being settled in her presence.

Asleep, she looked younger than ever and terribly innocent. She didn’t belong in a world of violence. He’d told her to rest, that they would be safe, but he knew better. If Whitney was truly playing one of his games, it wasn’t going to be so damned easy. He’d be sending someone to see if Rose had taken the bait and was in residence. That meant they were going to have a visitor soon. With a soft sigh, he ran his thumb down her soft cheek and then settled into a chair and began reading.