"Are you trying to convince me to stay with you or to run?"
"I don't want you to stay under false pretenses." He framed her face with both hands and let himself fall into her dark, almond eyes. She could take his breath and any good sense he'd ever had and it was perfectly okay with him. He might feel like an idiot, but that was okay as well--as long as he had her. "Fighting Whitney is always going to be a part of my life. Not just for us but for every other GhostWalker and the children they'll have."
She nodded her head. "I can accept that. I figure he'd just keep coming after me."
"I said children," he pointed out.
A slow smile curved her mouth. "I caught that. I'm actually quite intelligent and quick on the uptake, Kane. I knew you said that for a reason. I'm not afraid of having more children."
"I'm going to kiss you."
A dimple appeared beside the corner of her mouth. "Do you think it necessary to tell me first?"
"I was being a gentleman and warning you."
"I think if you're planning on marrying me, you should know a few things about me. Kisses will be an everyday requirement."
Kane didn't need any more encouragement. He'd been afraid Rose would shy away from physical contact, and he was prepared to take his time--get her used to his touch. Kissing had the green light, and he was more than ready to take full advantage of the situation. A man could do a lot with kissing when he was serious about it.
Kane slipped out of the house as he did each night. Rose always made a pretense of opening the door in the evening and looking around, which allowed him to move into the shadows unobserved. He knew if the sentries were watching, they'd have their binoculars on Rose. They had no idea anyone else was even in the general vicinity, let alone in the house with her. He knew the moment he left, she set alarms and crawled into the space along the windows with a sniper rifle to cover him.
This was the only time he ever really worried. He knew the tunnel left them vulnerable. Rose couldn't watch him and both entrances. And she had the baby to look after, which he'd pointed out repeatedly had to be her first priority. As a wife, she was going to be a handful. She definitely didn't take his suggestions--or his orders. She smiled at him, her eyes looking at him with an expression that twisted him up inside, but she didn't allow whatever she felt for him to stop her from doing exactly what she wanted--or what she thought needed to be done.
He made his way to the first slope before turning back to send a small breeze low over the sand to obscure any tracks he might have made. It was always the little things that tripped a soldier up. He had learned to pay attention to the smallest detail. He stayed low, knowing it would be almost impossible to see him moving along the ground, especially as he stayed in the darker dirt patches or near boulders and waves of saw grass.
The camp Whitney's men had set up was only about a mile away, and they were getting careless. They left tracks often. More, he sometimes smelled them smoking or drinking. Twice he smelled meat cooking. Carlson James often prowled close to the house and seemed to be getting surlier with each night passing. If their orders were to wait until they'd confirmed Rose had given birth, Kane was certain they'd never make the distance. Both men were bored, and neither had the disposition for being dropped in a desert and gathering information over time. Kane was certain that was part of the reason they'd failed to be included in the military's GhostWalker program.
They'd even gotten somewhat sloppy about their camp, leaving supplies out where the coyotes would be drawn in. Fargo wanted to hunt the coyotes to give them something to do, but in that, Carlson so far had prevailed, pointing out that Rose would likely hear the shots.
Kane took up position a scant twenty yards from the camp, maneuvering on his belly, pushing with toes and elbows until he was in the midst of a pile of boulders. Grass and weeds grew sparsely in the cracks. A lizard scooted out of his way but didn't scamper off toward the camp, preferring to crawl beneath the smaller of the rocks to hide.
Carlson James whittled at a piece of wood, shaping a point on the end with his knife. A pile of sticks about a foot long each lay in front of him, each with a sharp point on the end. A few feet away, Fargo was doing the same thing, although he wasn't putting much effort into it.
He sighed. "I can't believe we're stuck out here resorting to hunting coyotes with homemade arrows."
Carlson made a sound of disgust deep in his throat. "You won't let me grab the bitch and get out of here, so what else can we do?"
"I've been thinking about that," Fargo said. "How 'bout we go into town and get us some company. A pretty little senorita for us to pass the time with."
Carlson looked up, speculation in his eyes. The two men stared at each other for a long time. Carlson slowly smiled. "Now that's not a bad idea. You've got something there, Fargo." He glanced in the direction of the subterranean hideaway. "Although one of us needs to keep an eye out around here."
Kane's gut tightened. Carlson's tone had been casual--too casual.
Fargo sent his partner a sharp look. "Don't go getting stupid on me. You know I have to document every damn time you say that bitch's name or refer to her. Whitney's expecting you to break. You have to beat him at his own game. As it is, I'm only recording about half the time you're obsessing about her."
"I'm not obsessing. She pisses me off, that's all. She was supposed to be mine. Once I get my hands on her, she'll be begging to stay with me." Carlson threw his knife point down in the sand beside the stack of makeshift arrows.
"Regardless of what you call it, you have to show him you have discipline. That's what this little game is all about, Carlson. You have to play to win."
"You can say that because you know if you keep me from breaking in there and taking her, you'll get the woman you want. You'll win."
Fargo shrugged. "I'm not so sure of that, Carlson. Look what he promised you, and did he deliver? No, he gave her to some other bastard and left you hanging. You did everything he asked of you, and he still screwed you."
"Whitney wants the baby, not the woman," Carlson said, his expression going mean. "He thinks she's going to give him his little supersoldier. He thinks my son will be flawed--like me. I don't have any damn flaws. I should have put a bullet in his head when I had the chance."
Kane found it interesting that these soldiers, as corrupt and damaged as they were, recognized that Whitney was playing games with them too, or maybe someone as cunning and evil as Carlson James would understand Whitney. God knew, the doctor made no sense to Kane.
"He pays us," Fargo pointed out. "A hell of a lot more than the Marine Corps ever did."
Carlson reached for his knife, all the while, his gaze on the house he couldn't actually see. "Yeah. There's that. Man. I can't stop thinking about her and when she sits outside and I can smell her, I get so damned hard even the money doesn't matter so much." He pinned Fargo with cold, warning eyes. "And you don't need to report that to the bastard. We're just talking about money."
Fargo looked a little alarmed. Kane figured Carlson was both volatile and unpredictable. Fargo had the very dangerous position of being the watchdog. He was obviously aware that Carlson was deteriorating the longer he was in close proximity to Rose without having access to her. What did that mean? Was this part of Whit
ney's experiment? To find out how long a man could be paired to a woman without going insane with need? Need had turned to obsession for Carlson and then to depraved sickness.
Kane wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. Carlson was a sacrifice so Whitney could find the answer. Kane had been obsessed with finding Rose. Had his need turned into obsession as well? Damn Whitney and his appetite for high-stakes games. He loved to use people as human pawns. Having been bullied in his younger years by not only his parents but other children who didn't understand him, he had developed a need to prove to everyone that he was smarter. He needed the games now just as much as he needed the experiments. The games seemed to be his one source of amusement.
"I just thought if we picked up a little senorita and shared her, kept her while we had to wait, that it might be easier for you, Carlson, that's all," Fargo said. "Once your woman has the kid, Whitney will take it, and you won't have to worry about having that bastard's brat running around."
"It's still her kid," Carlson pointed out. "Women don't like their kids taken from them. If I took her now, at least she'd have the kid."
It surprised Kane that Carlson would be compassionate enough to think about Rose's feelings. He might be brutish and selfish, but he'd thought about what it would mean to take Rose's child from her.
Fargo nodded. "Yeah, but think about it, Carlson. If
Whitney can be occupied with his favorite project, making the kid his supersoldier, then you have a chance he'll leave you and Rose alone if you have another child together. Your kid would have more protection."
Carlson threw another arrow onto the growing stack. "I hadn't thought of that. And Whitney isn't going to give up until he has a kid to play the mad doctor with."