Street Game (GhostWalkers 8)

"I don't want to take chances with your life," he said.

"I thought you said the two men Javier took down were going to kidnap me," she pointed out. "That doesn't necessarily read that my life was in danger."

They were nearly to the furniture store. She kept moving forward, her gaze on the entrance, but her heart was beating fast now. Mack was protective, but to take them all to the highest risk when she couldn't even sort out a bad feeling was not like him.

"The tranq wasn't a tranq. It was truth serum. They were going to question you, Jaimie, and they'd brought a few instruments with them."

Her mouth went dry. "Torture?" She looked up at him then. And then at Kane's carefully averted face. A muscle ticked in his jaw and his eyelid flickered. "They were going to torture me?"

"Damn it, Jaimie."

Mack shielded her as a group of unruly teenagers on skateboards rushed past. Javier did a series of showy tricks to the whistles and admiration of the kids, shot her a jaunty grin, and kept going, skating through the crowd, laughing at the curses and snarls as people moved out of the way. He scattered everyone behind them, answering the obscene gestures with one of his own.

"He could be crazy, you know," Jaimie said.

"I have no doubt he is."

"I want to buy the beds today, Mack. I don't want to spend today terrified and locked up in a room alone."

He didn't point out she wouldn't be alone. You see anything? He sent the call out to them all, his men, his family, moving in and out of the crowd. Gideon up on the rooftops, following their every move, his rifle an extension of him.

Not a thing, boss. The reports came back, all assuring him.

Do we abort, Top? Marc was at the door, ready to go inside.

They were almost on top of the shop. "Let's just order the beds," Jaimie said. "We're already here and I don't have a strong feeling one way or the other right now. Please, Mack."

We'll proceed, but be careful, Marc. You're my eyes.

Mack recognized it was important to her to be as normal as possible. She probably hadn't been out in public in weeks. Joe had done her shopping, or she'd had everything delivered. He knew her routines. She preferred working alone or in the dead of night in empty buildings where the psychic overload didn't sicken her to the point of brain bleeds. He'd seen it happen before. "Let's just get this done fast. You tell me the first sign of uneasiness. We'll get you out, Jaimie. No one's going to get their hands on you."

She had a bad taste in her mouth. She'd brought the storm down on her own head. None of this was Mack's fault and she was actually grateful he was there. She had no doubt she would have had a good chance of getting away before the two men had gotten to her, but she would have lost everything she'd worked for and would have had to run for the rest of her life.

"Would you have come back to me?" Mack asked, guessing her thoughts.

She took a breath. "No." She would never have brought danger to him. He should have known that without making her say it.

She was looking at his face and caught the flash of anger quickly hidden behind his mask. For a moment her stomach shifted, but then he pushed open the door and Kane moved through, his larger body blocking hers. Mack fell into step behind her. She could feel Mack, and she moved in step with him as she followed Kane without hesitation. She'd never be foolish enough to put them in danger. She loved them, whether Mack understood her or not.

Do your thing, Jaimie, Kane said.

In here? With all these people? It would hurt like hell, opening herself up that way. She glanced at Mack. He obviously hadn't heard Kane's request, which meant he wouldn't condone it. She bit her lip, took a breath, and expanded her mind, realizing Kane didn't want any of the men in jeopardy. Civilians surrounded them. If an enemy was close, they had to know.

At once she was assailed with energy from every direction. Emotions hit hard, a solid punch to her stomach as anger and guilt and happiness and grief poured in from every direction. She pressed her lips together to keep anything from slipping past her throat, but her footsteps faltered. Mack put a hand on her back, but his eyes searched the customers moving around the store.

"You all right?"

She managed a nod as she waited for her brain to accept the overload so she could begin the sorting process. She forced herself to continue forward, although she had to concentrate on each separate step. As far as she could tell, no one in the store had lethal intentions toward anyone. A woman had lost her son in a car accident and another was contemplating suicide. There were two men who were criminals, a shoplifter, a very harassed mother of two. The list went on and on, but she didn't feel anyone threatening her.

She took a breath, let it out, and breathed away the sickness collecting in the pit of her stomach as she closed her mind to the assault. She tasted blood in her mouth and reached in her pocket for a handkerchief. She pressed it to her nose, keeping her back to Mack as she followed Kane onto the floor they were looking for.

We're good.

You certain?

I told you, didn't I? Did you think I'm so desperate to do whatever I want that I'd put one of my brothers in jeopardy? She let the bite in her voice sink in.

Kane turned his head and looked at her, coming to an abrupt stop when he spotted the red staining the cloth. His eyes widened. "Jaimie."

"What have you done?" Mack demanded, whirling her around to face him. He took the cloth from her hand to examine the amount of blood as Kane blocked any view of her body. "We're both with you. You shouldn't be having this much trouble."

"I'm all right. I've always been far more sensitive than the rest of you. Even with both of you around, there's no way to minimize the effect with this many people."

"Why the hell did you do this to yourself?" Mack's voice was gruff.

She bit her lip as he gently cleaned the last remnants of blood from her face. "I wanted to make certain there was no danger. I don't want the boys hurt, or any innocent bystanders. If these men were willing to torture me to see what information I have on Whitney, they're willing to hurt anyone around me as well."

"I asked her to," Kane admitted, refusing to allow Jaimie to take the brunt of Mack's anger. He knew Mack, knew his fears for Jaimie, the way he suffered every time she was in pain. He was helpless

to stop it, and Mack didn't like to be helpless. "I knew you wouldn't ask her."

Mack's eyes went flat and cold. A muscle ticked along his jaw. He kept working on Jaimie's face, his touch tender. "I'll be talking to you about this when we're alone, Kane."

Jaimie's heart lurched. She brought up both hands to his wrist and stopped him--waited until he looked down at her. "Don't be upset, Mack. He was right and you know he was. If it was anyone but me . . ."

"But it is you." He stared down at her for a long moment, and then leaned forward to brush a kiss along her forehead. "And at least you know that."

"I know. Come on, we know we're all safe. Let's buy you both a bed."

There was a moment. A heartbeat she thought he wouldn't let it go, but the grim reaper in his eyes disappeared and he smiled at her.

"Now you're talking sense."

She smiled back. "I usually do. I'm quite a bit smarter than you, you know."

Instead of taking the bait and teasing her like he usually did, he slipped his arm around her shoulders and nodded. "You always have been. I should have listened to you."

Everything inside her stilled as Mack followed Kane down the aisle toward king-sized beds, taking Jaimie with him. A capitulation. He'd said it so casually. I should have listened to you. She looked down at her hands as she pretended to be interested in the talk about mattresses. Mack had never apologized. Not in all the time she could remember being around him. Was he beginning to realize the enormity of what Whitney had done to them all? If so, she felt sorry for him. He would lay the blame squarely on his own shoulders. Mack believed in taking responsibility for his own actions.

"What do you think of this?" Mack asked Jaimie, drawing her out of her reverie. He propelled Jaimie across the room toward a king-sized waterbed.

"Oh, no," she was very decisive, backing away from the massive polished frame. "I will not have that monstrosity taking up space in my bedroom. It probably weighs enough to drop through two floors."

"You're crazy, woman. You're living in a former car garage."