Night Game (GhostWalkers 3)

Flame had to kneel at the toilet again for another long bout, which became mostly dry heaves. "I'm getting to be an expert at this." She took the washcloth Dahlia handed her. "I think I've inspected that toilet a million times now."

"Lily said you've been doing a lot of exercises. Running on the treadmill."

Flame's response was somewhere between a snort of derision and strangled laughter. "If you call that running. Nonny does better than I do and makes a point of telling me, I might add." She wiped her face repeatedly. "Sometimes I think this will never end."

"You're just at the worst point and about to start the climb back up. You've been here before and this time will be the last." Dahlia spoke confidently.

"You believe in her that much?"

"Yep. By the way, Gator's back."

"He is?' Flame felt her heart leap. "No one's told me anything. They're all so damned secretive. I don't know how you stand it when Nico goes out."

"Nico told me they went in to try to get Jack Norton out."

"Wait a minute. I thought Raoul mentioned Ken Norton was captured and a team was going in."

"Nico was on that team. They pulled out Ken, but Jack went down giving them cover fire. He waved them out and they were under orders so they left him behind. No one knew if he was captured. Gator and Nico went back with some others to see if they could get him. They hit the enemy camp, but he wasn't there. They found evidence he'd been there, but he was either moved, or he escaped."

"Or they killed him."

"There's always that possibility."

Flame hung her head. "Is Raoul all right?"

"He doesn't look good, not at all like himself. He never smiles, never laughs. He's thinner, but he came back without any more scars, if that's what you mean. Are you ever going to forgive him for saving your life?" Dahlia asked bluntly.

There was a small silence. Flame could hear her heart beating hard. She swallowed a sudden lump. "I have to forgive Lily if I forgive him." She closed her eyes. "I don't know if I can do that." She stood up slowly, dragging herself up by using the wall. "I think I can actually go sit in a chair now."

Dahlia stayed behind her in case she was too weak after her bout of sickness to make it into her room without falling.

Flame was surprisingly steady once she got under way. "Once my nightly bout of sickness is over, whether it lasts an hour or six hours, I feel fine again. I usually walk on the treadmill and try to get in a little exercise before the morning bout starts. I don't seem to be able to sleep much anymore." She paused for a moment to survey her room. There were no lights on, just dozens of aromatic candles. "Nonny's been here. She's so sweet to me."

Dahlia waited until Flame curled up in a chair, drawing her feet up under her and taking another sip of water. "One of your best and worst traits is your stubbornness, Flame. I think it's saved your life, that determination and courage you have, the ability to dig in and go for something no matter what, but it also keeps you from admitting that you can be wrong."

A faint smile touched Flame's mouth. "You think that's why? That I don't want to admit that I'm wrong? I wish it was that simple." She sighed and leaned back, resting her head against the soft back of the chair, all too aware of her bald head. She was vain enough that she didn't want anyone seeing her that way, not even Dahlia. "I don't trust Lily. She has that same mind. The need for answers outweighs moral issues."

Dahlia shook her head. "You're wrong. She has that same brilliancy, yes. You have it too, but she knows where to draw the line. Why are you so determined to believe she's in league with Peter Whitney?"

"He has to have an informer."

Dahlia snorted. "That's idiotic and you, of all people, know it. You know exactly how he's getting his information."

"The computers," Flame conceded. "They were all his. Every computer in his lab at home, here at the compound, and just about every company he owned. He had access to them all and wrote many of the programs. The notes and data Lily are using belonged to him. He has a back door in to all of it."

"Of course he does. And he knows she needs the information to help us all. She can't get rid of him. Arly's searching, but even if he finds one worm, he'll never find them all. So why do you need to see her as in league with Peter Whitney?"

Flame shook her head, her mind slamming the door closed on her childhood memories. She couldn't, wouldn't face that recollection ever again. "I can't tell you. I just can't, Dahlia."

Dahlia looked up, her gaze sharp and penetrating. "It's all right, hon, don't worry about it. I'm going to let you have a few minutes alone because we both know as soon as Gator is finished with debriefing, he'll come straight here."

Flame looked alarmed. "No! He can't see me like this. I won't let him see me like this."

"There's nothing wrong with the way you look."

Flame leapt up and rushed to yank open a drawer. "Nonny brought me these caps just in case." She grabbed a dark navy knitted cap and pulled it over her head, glancing in the mirror and then looking quickly away. "Keep him out of here."

"No one can keep Gator out of here, not even you, Flame. He's coming to see you whether you like it or not. Whether you talk to him or not." Dahlia walked to the door. "You're going to have to deal with him sooner or later."

The moment the door closed behind Dahlia, Flame blew out three of the eight candles lighting the room. She couldn't stop her wayward heart from pounding with anticipation, or the adrenaline from rushing through her body. She did her best, washed her face, brushed her teeth, tried makeup and removed it just as fast. She stood staring at her image. There was nothing she could do to look like the woman he would be expecting.

She spun around when she heard the door open. Raoul entered, pushing a motorcycle. Not just any motorcycle, but her motorcycle. She wanted to look at her motorcycle, the very symbol of freedom to her, but all she could see was Raoul. If she could have, she would have thrown herself into his arms. As it was, she just stood staring at him, transfixed. He did look thinner, but his shoulders were wide, his chest muscular, and his hair persisted in falling in waves no matter what he did to tame it. He made her weak-kneed, just looking at him. She was so glad he was there, alive and well and all in one piece, but she didn't want him to see her like this.

Straightening her spine, Flame drew in a deep breath and tried to look utterly confident. She touched the knitted cap she wore to make certain it was in place before crossing the room to touch her motorcycle. "Who did this?"

Raoul straightened slowly and drank in the sight of her. It was the first time since the assault on the compound that she'd spoken to him and she was staring at the bike, not him. She looked pale. Ravaged. There were dark circles under her eyes and she wore a silly knitted cap that fit her head close. Her cast was gone and her arm had several noticeable scars from the alligator's teeth. She looked beautiful to him. He'd missed her so badly he ached.

"I did it myself. Didn't want anyone else touching something you love. It runs like a dream. I can't wait for you to try it out."

Flame glanced at him and then away. He realized she didn't have eyebrows. His throat closed up. He'd been off gathering intelligence and she'd been here. Alone. Sick. He stepped closer to her. "Mon Dieu, baby. I should have stayed with you." He reached out a hand to frame her face but she sidestepped his touch.

"You shouldn't be here." She would not dissolve into tears in front of him. He looked so wonderful. She wanted to touch him, but that would mean he could touch her back and she was far from the woman he thought so sexy back in the bayou. And if her changed appearance didn't bother him, and he managed to get through her thin armor, she'd fall into his arms and it would start all over again. She'd be swept away, not thinking, and she couldn't go through another breakup.

"Where else would I be?" Raoul allowed his hand to drop to his side. "There's nowhere else I want to be."

She rubbed her hand over the bike's black leather seat. "It looks beautiful. Brand-new. Thank you."

"You're welcome. I know how much it means to you."

It meant much more now that she knew he'd taken the time to fix it himself. She wasn't supposed to love anything or anyone so much that she couldn't give it up, but she was so very afraid she'd broken her number one rule. "You look good. Tired, but good."

"I am tired. It was a long flight and a longer debriefing."

"You didn't write." Flame slapped her hand over her mouth. She hadn't meant for that to come out. Already she could see his slow, cocky grin spreading. Her heart did a slow meltdown. "Your grandmother was worried."

He shook his head. "I don' think so, cher. I think you were worried about me. You sent me off with no kiss good-bye. No words of love to keep me safe."

"We broke up. You don't get kisses or words of love."

"I never broke up. I wouldn't know how." His tone was utterly serious. "I can't live without you, ma belle femme, and that's a fact."

Flame shook her head. "Even if we could get past everything else; what about children? You were born to be a father."

"You worry so much over things that may or may not happen. I don' live my life in the future, cher. Your eggs are stored. We can demand them back. Hell, we should anyway, but if it doesn't work out, we'll adopt. And if that doesn't work out, we'll love each other just fine without all the rest." He gave her another grin. "I'm lookin' forward to that part."

Flame didn't know how to react. It was impossible not to love him even with all his sins. She sighed softly. "You're so crazy."

He caught her hand, gave a little tug so that she followed him across the room to the large armchair. "I'm tired. Sit on my lap." He sank into the chair.

Flame backed away from him. "Oh, no. I'm not getting near you. I know better than that."

He steepled his fingers together and regarded her through half-closed eyes. "Let's get this over with, Flame. I miss you. I miss holding you and kissing you and having you next to me when I sleep at night."

"We only slept together a couple of times," she pointed out. "You can't possibly miss me like that."

"I wake up in the middle of the night reaching for you. I miss your laugh and that stubborn, mulish look you get on your face right before you do something that turns me on. I miss all of it, cher, and I want it back. How do I get it back?"

He looked up at her, his eyes midnight black and her heart lurched. How did he do that? Just take over her mind, fog it, and make her body hot and restless when he wasn't doing anything but sitting there? Flame wrapped her arms around her waist. "I don't know," she whispered. "There's this huge gap between us and I can't cross it."

"You stay where you are. I'll come to you."

Flame held up her hand, panic written clearly on her face. "Stay there."

"Why, cher. I do believe you're afraid of being close to me. You've been missing me, haven't you?"

"Maybe a little," she conceded.

"I think more than a little." He crooked his finger at her. "Come here where I can touch you. I don' believe you're wearing a bra under that shirt."

She looked down and saw her nipples pushing at the thin material. "Well stop looking."

"I love to look at you."

She took a deep breath. "My hair fell out." She put her hand defensively on the cap.

He reached out and tugged on her sweats until she was standing between his legs. His voice lowered until there was almost a seductive note in it. "Take off the cap. Let me see."

"I'm not going to let you see my bald head. Sheesh." His voice alone could send butterflies fluttering through her stomach. He was just so--bad. He looked at her with his dark eyes and his sinful mouth and she couldn't help the wicked thoughts sizzling through her mind. "Stop looking at me like that. I'm not taking off the cap. Ever."

He tilted his head, his hand skimming the ribbon of bare skin between her top and sweats. "Aw, cher. There's no need to be like that. I've been fantasizing for the last few weeks about you being all sexy with no hair." His voice dropped another octave. "When you lose all your hair, do you lose all of it? All over your body?" He dragged out the last word, making it sound erotic somehow.

She blushed. She never blushed, but he was looking at her as if he might eat her like an ice cream cone. His tongue actually licked his bottom lip as if in anticipation. Heat flooded her body. "You're freakin' nuts, Raoul."

His fingers caressed her skin, slid down her hip to her thigh to massage her leg. "Are you bald everywhere, sugah?"

His whisper skimmed over her skin, featherlight, like warm breath. She could feel it deep inside her where need pooled. She swallowed a protest. His hand found its way around to her bottom, kneading through her cotton sweats. He shifted in the chair, calling attention to the huge bulge at the junction of his legs.

"You cannot be turned on, Raoul. You can't be."

He took her hand and guided it to the front of his jeans. "I beg to differ, this here is a hell of a hard-on, cher, if I do say so myself."

She should have snatched her hand away, it was the only safe thing to do, but he was pressing it over the long thick bulge, and despite herself she let her palm rub back and forth. He closed his eyes and drew in his breath, pleasure smoothing away the lines etched so deep--lines that hadn't been there before he'd brought her to the compound.

She had to do something to break his spell, otherwise she was going to forget what she looked like and jump him. "Before you get too comfortable there, Cajun man, I seem to recall telling you what I was going to do to you if my hair fell out."

He brought her hand to his mouth before leaning down to remove his boots.

Flame stepped back, one hand to her throat as he peeled off his jeans without even a blush. He was hard and hot and very erect. He grinned at her, unashamed of his obvious need. "I brought the knife, cher. It isn't rusty, but it'll do." His hands went to his shirt buttons, slowly opening the shirt.

Flame shook her head. "No way. I meant it, Raoul. No freakin' way."

"Just let me see," he coaxed. "I had more than one fantasy about shavin' you all clean and soft so you feel every lick of my tongue."

The way he said it, the way he looked, sent shivers down her spine. In spite of herself, she was getting hot. "I've been sick for hours. I can't very well get crazy with you." She backed up until she was against the small bedside table, the bed looming large in her vision.

He was closer. How did he get closer? She didn't even recall him moving, but there he was, his hand slipping under her shirt to cup her breast, fingers gently rolling her nipple. "You don' have to do a thing, I promise. Just let me see."

He could make her weak without touching her, but the moment his hands were on her skin she was afraid she was lost. Didn't he see her? She felt very vulnerable, almost afraid. She knew her sexuality wasn't tied up in her hair, but how could she feel sexy and exciting when most of the time she was so sick all she could do was hug the toilet? She had a port in her chest, and not a single hair on her body. She was bald, bald, for heaven's sake. He was looking at her, touching her and responding to her just as if she were the most beautiful, sensual woman in the world. Was it possible to fake that look in his eye? The dark sensuality, the intense hunger and raw desire? Could that be faked?

Flame's body trembled and she looked so damned fragile Raoul bent forward to brush a kiss against her soft mouth, wanting to reassure her. Her eyes were dark and filled with shadows. He kissed her again because he had to. He'd dreamt of her mouth often, so soft, so sexy. At night when he lay alone in his bed he thought of her taste and texture. The memory wasn't nearly as good as the real thing. He licked along her bottom lip, sucked it into his mouth, teasing with his teeth until she made that soft little whimpering sound he loved--her first real sign of surrender.

Catching the edge of her shirt he gently pulled it over her head. He could see the line Lily used to put the medicine directly in her vein. It was up near her collarbone. He ran his finger lightly along her bone and down to the swell of her breasts.

"Does it hurt?"

Flame shook her head. She couldn't look away, trapped in the heat of his gaze. She could only stand there trembling, watching his face closely, while he tugged on her sweatpants. She was terrified that he'd be as repulsed as she sometimes was by the sight of her naked body. She wouldn't be able to take that. She didn't know if she could take it if he wasn't. She felt so exposed, her body completely open to his inspection.

"Mon Dieu, cher, you're so damned beautiful I'm going to embarrass myself." His hand absently stroked the length of his erection. There was no shyness, no modesty, he hardly seemed aware of his actions.

Flame could see the glistening moisture on the smooth, broad head topping his thick shaft. He couldn't fake that. He wanted her with that same intensity, that same need, he'd had weeks earlier when she had hair tumbling around her face and she felt confident as a sensual woman.

Gator dropped to his knees, circling her hips with his arms, dragging her closer so that she had to steady herself with her hands on his shoulders. "You're so sexy, cher." His voice was hoarse, his hands sliding down her hips to part her thighs. He leaned forward to press his mouth against her bare, silky-smooth skin.

Flame nearly jumped out of her skin. "I'm too sensitive." She hadn't thought it would feel different, his tongue moving over bare flesh, but it did. Every nerve ending seemed more heightened, more aware. "My legs are going to give out."

He blew warm air against her, pressed another kiss against her bare lips. He felt her shiver. Her body responded with inviting moisture. "Hold on to me for just another minute. I can't stop, baby, not this time. You're so beautiful and perfect and I need this." His tongue dipped and stroked, small caresses designed to send her temperature soaring. She was so sweet, he could spend hours devouring her. Her hand clenched in his hair and her entire body trembled.

With a little sigh he stood up, lifted her, and seated her on the very edge of the bed. "I've waited a long time for you. I don' think I have much in the way of self-control."

"I don't have much in the way of stamina so I guess we'll be fine." The raw desire etched on his face took her breath away.

He bent to kiss her again. His mouth was commanding, wild even, yet he was careful not to rub against the open port. He kissed his way down to the tips of her breasts, hands exploring every inch of her body, reclaiming her, possessive. "You're so damned soft, mon amour. Soft and silky and so hot. I can't wait to be inside of you."