Street Game (GhostWalkers 8)

"But not Gideon or the other man?"

She shook her head. "That's never happened before, Mack. Not once. Not in all the times I trained. What's different about Gideon?"

"I don't know, but I don't want you saying anything. We'll need to protect that information. Don't document it," Mack cautioned.

She crawled away from the window to the center of the room where her furniture was. "Because you know they'd dissect him to see if they could make you all that way."

"The mysterious 'they' again," Mack said. "You use 'they' and 'you' a lot. You're a GhostWalker too, Jaimie. You gave your consent just like the rest of us. And not everyone in the program is corrupt."

She sank into a chair across from Kane. "I know that, Mack. I just despise the entire mess. Whitney's given some people cancer. He's hurt them in order to see if he could speed the healing process. He's so far out of control and someone knows it. More than one someone, yet they protect him. They want his research and we're all expendable to protect it. And we have foreign governments wanting one of us to dissect so they can build the same kind of soldier. Do you think any of us are going to have a life if we don't get out now?"

Kane slipped his gun back beneath his sleeping bag, knowing Jaimie hated the weapon. "We're going to be fine as long as we stick together, Jaimie."

Her eyes met his. There was despair there. She was too intelligent to be reassured like a child and they both knew it. She had logged in hundreds of hours going over Whitney's experiment. It read like a horror story. Her temples throbbed with pain, an aftermath of using psychic ability. It helped with Mack and Kane in the room, but still, the pain made her stomach lurch.

She didn't want to think about all the children Whitney had conducted his experiments on. The adults had been bad enough, but she knew there had been children involved. The man was still out there, on the loose, condoned and aided by a group of power-hungry men who believed themselves above the law. The men in GhostWalker Team Three were all members of her family. No, they weren't bound by blood, but they'd chosen years ago to band together and make it through life together. Now they were all in jeopardy.

"I can't save them," she said aloud, and then was horrified that she'd spoken without thinking.

She could no longer trust either Mack or Kane. They had embraced their new bodies and minds and they believed they could make a huge difference. They were honorable men and they fought for what they believed. She was no longer part of that circle. No matter how familiar, no matter how much she loved them, she had to remember she wasn't part of what they were doing and if orders came down regarding her--both men would follow those orders.

As if reading her mind, Mack sank into the chair beside hers and reached out to take her hand. "We're here in San Francisco hunting this shipment of weapons and the men who are going to buy them. It's our one chance to get at the Doomsday unit. They happen to be in the same neighborhood you're living in. Whatever that means. However it happened. Someone is threatening you. Let's just call a truce until we remove the threat and I have my terrorists in custody."

"You don't take them into custody, Mack," she pointed out. "You assassinate them."

"I do whatever it takes. And I'll do whatever it takes to keep you alive, Jaimie. Whatever is going on here is not of my making. You wanted out. I was hoping you would get out and make a life for yourself."

He had hoped she'd come back to him and tell him she was missing him every single minute of every single day--that she couldn't breathe without him. That hadn't happened. It didn't look like it was going to happen anytime soon.

"We're a family," Kane added. "We'd never leave you until we knew the threat to you was past. So we'll be moving in here for a long while. We've already gotten permission. The boys are setting up their rooms; we'll be here with you. You'll be safe."

"What does Sergeant Major want in return? He doesn't do anything for free."

"That's for us to worry about," Mack said. "Not you. Let's just enjoy whatever time we have together while we figure all this out. I missed you, Jaimie." There was an ache in his voice. An unexpected lump in his throat. She had no idea. He'd felt shattered. Fractured. And he'd had no idea how much he needed her or depended on her until she was gone.

There was resentment in him. Stubbornness. She'd left him. Walked out. Whatever her reasons, however stupid he'd been, she'd left him. For a moment it took all his discipline not to yank her out of the chair and shake her into seeing sense. They were meant for each other. He'd thought--hoped--that when he saw her again, the impact she had on him would lessen, but it was worse than ever. He craved her like some terrible addiction. He wanted the adoration back, that look of absolute love in her eyes. He wanted her soft body streaking fire through his. He wanted the sound of her laughter and her trust. More than anything he wanted that back.

Jaimie pushed both hands through her hair. Living with Mack again. She doubted she could survive it. But what else could she do? She wasn't stupid. Someone had sent GhostWalkers after her and that meant Whitney was probably on to her and she was in danger. If he knew the evidence she'd been compiling against him, he'd never let her live. And she was tracing his connections, getting closer to his supporters. They would be even more dangerous than Whitney. He was obscure. A ghost. But his backers had political lives. They were powerful men with lots to lose and they'd never let her expose their crimes to the world.

She'd known when she started researching and documenting that she was entering a dangerous game, but she had always known she had to find a way to protect her family. She loved them and she wasn't going to see them thrown to the wolves. No one was going to set them up to be killed by sending them on a bogus mission. She'd make certain of that.

"Can't you stay in one of the places around here, Mack? I'm used to being on my own and you're bossy."

Kane made a sound in his throat that was cut off when Mack shot him a warning look. "I'm not in the least bit bossy. I know how to keep you alive, and you tend to trust everyone."

She scowled at him. "I do not. Do you see what

I'm talking about? I've been in business for two years, Mack. I haven't needed you to tell me who I can work for."

"That doesn't mean you couldn't have benefited from my experience."

A slow smile curved her mouth. "Now you're just teasing."

"I'm glad you remember what teasing is."

She deserved that, she knew. Mack and Kane were the two people she loved most in the world and she hadn't exactly been hospitable. She'd accused Kane outright of betrayal, and there was still a certainty that he had known the address was wrong. He had been close to the one new man when they'd come into her home, the one they weren't certain of, and it had been Kane who had blocked his weapon, almost before Mack had identified her.

"Okay, fine. But you're getting your own beds. I mean it. I'm not sharing my bed."

"Who wants that tiny little thing?" Mack scoffed. "We'll get manly furniture tomorrow."

The two poking around are leaving, Top. I have the feeling they'll be back, Gideon reported. But they're going to do a little investigating. Superman has slipped away.

Did he see you? Mack asked.

Naw. I just became part of the wall. Never moved.

We're going to get some sleep. Thanks, Gideon. Be careful. And don't trust anyone not our own.

Okay, Mom. Gideon laughed softly in his ear.

Mack sighed. Trying to keep them all in line was difficult. "We can turn in. The threat's over."

"Lucky us," Jaimie muttered.

CHAPTER 5

Morning light filtered through the windows when a loud blast shattered the peace of sleep. Kane and Mack leapt to their feet, both reaching for their weapons, or at least both tried to. Kane nearly crashed to the floor, whirling around a little wildly, gun in his fist.

"What the hell?" Kane demanded, wiggling free and crawling across the floor to the window.

Jaimie dragged the blanket over her head with a groan. This was not the start to the day she had anticipated. "It's the doorbell. It's probably Joe."