Spider Game (GhostWalkers 12)

She got none. No heat flaring in his eyes. No warmth pouring into his mind. He was completely removed from her. From the dress that had felt sexy but now fell flat. She wanted it off. She would have turned to rush back to the dressing room, but he stirred, held up a finger and moved it in a circle, indicating she turn around.

"Beautiful." Mrs. March breathed the word. "Truly beautiful. That dress is definitely made for you, Cayenne."

A little bell over the door tinkled, and Gino stepped in front of her before she could see who had walked in. The air in the room thickened. Became almost too dense to breathe. Mrs. March coughed. Trap slid in between Gino and Cayenne, a smooth move, one she barely comprehended. She saw Draden, out of the corner of her eye, move into position on the other side of Trap.

Cayenne didn't like being boxed in. She really didn't like having her sight cut off. She felt the danger in the room. She smelled the man who had entered. Heard his footfalls. Light. A soldier, from his precise, measured steps. She shifted to the right, outside the pocket Trap and Gino had created.

Don't you fucking move. Trap snapped the command.

She ignored him. She wasn't a woman to be bossed around and she didn't accept his authority or his protection. She didn't accept any of this. She was in a stupid dress, hoping to make Trap notice her like some little kid looking for attention. The sight of her hadn't changed that glacier in his eyes, hadn't aroused the least bit of interest, so she'd be damned if she was going to have him look after her.

She ignored his warning and took another step away from him, letting the newcomer see his target. She spotted him instantly because she knew by the vibrations in the room exactly where he was. He was built like a boxer. His face was scarred, his eyes showing nerves, but they locked on her instantly. Flared with excitement. For a moment, she thought he'd draw his weapon. He looked as if he might.

Mrs. March moved, walking right up to him, looking classy in her high heels and her welcoming smile. "May I help you?"

Trap's fingers settled like a shackle around Cayenne's wrist. He jerked her to him so hard she actually stumbled. Already in fight mode, she nearly sank her teeth into his wrist, but she was off balance and his other hand caught her hair in a tight fist, yanking her head back and away from his arm.

Are you fucking nuts? You're going to paralyze me with our enemy a few feet away? He nearly shook her, but instead, he walked her backward, using her hair and his body along with his vise-like grip on her wrist to take her to the dressing room. Change fast. He's the scout for his team. We aren't going to war in a dress shop, or even here in the city where someone else can get hurt.

She complied, mostly because she was angry with herself that her first instinct was to bite, to take him down because she was in unfamiliar territory with an enemy who clearly had come to terminate her. She had to get away from Trap and the others. If she did, she could lead the man and his team away from them. Trap would be furious, but she really didn't care. He had set this entire day in motion and clearly knew ahead of time that the threat to her was viable. He hadn't told her.

Trap stepped into the dressing room as she slid the dress off her shoulders and allowed it to slither to the floor. She wore nothing under it but her skin. Shocked that he walked in on her, she stepped back because he gave her no choice. His gaze moved over her, and this time she caught a hint of possession, or arousal, she wasn't certain which or both before it was gone and his eyes were ice again.

He caught up her camisole and thrust it into her hands. Don't you even think about ditching the team.

You knew they were waiting for me to show up in town, didn't you? She pulled on her jeans and the camisole without looking at him again. Furious. Spider furious. The venom was close. She actually thought about injecting him, rolling him in silk and leaving him there in the fitting room. His team would never leave him unprotected.

It was logical. They knew you didn't have clothes or food. Sooner or later, they figured you would have to come for supplies. I sent a couple of the boys in earlier to scout around. They spotted John Butler. We all know him. He flunked out of the program right before we all were approved. So yeah, I knew. I also knew you'd want to go after them yourself, and that just isn't going to happen.

She sank down onto the beautifully appointed chair and put on her socks and then her shoes, grateful they weren't the boots that had been too big for her. You didn't think I had the right to know?

I don't give a damn whether or not you had the right, Cayenne. You aren't alone in this anymore. You're with me. That means you stay safe and you become part of the team.

She stood up, close to him. Deliberately close. He didn't move back like she expected. Like he should have. The venom was there. So ready. One motion was all it would take, lean into him and bite. She forced air through her lungs, trying to tamp down the hurt that was far more dangerous than the anger.

"But I wasn't made part of the team, was I, Trap? I'm the bait, not a member of your team. You don't accept me, so why would your friends? Move aside. I want to leave, and you don't have the right to stop me."

"Baby." He spoke aloud as well. There was the faintest humor in his voice. "I know you think you're holding all the cards here, but you're not. That's all the warning I'm going to give you. I'm a GhostWalker, the same as you. I'm enhanced, the same as you. I know what weapons you have. You don't know the first thing about mine."

She studied his face. He wasn't in the least bit afraid of her. He knew she was angry and hurt, but he wasn't worried. "Fine. Let's just get out of here. Don't bother paying for the clothes. I won't need them."

"Stop being angry. You know once we're home we can have this out. Not here. This isn't the time and it isn't the place. I want you alive and I want every member of my team alive."

"I said I'm ready to go." She went to move past him.

His arm blocked her. "There is an assassination squad in town. They have a sniper on the roof."

"No doubt Ezekiel has already lined him up in his sights."

"He might miss."

"Ezekiel doesn't miss," she said. "If he did, you wouldn't have him up on the roof. He's always the backup. Always. He's your go-to man." Even as she let him know she knew what was going on, she still waited for him to step through the door first.

He didn't. Not right away. Instead, he caught her chin in his fingers and forced her head up. "We'll go home and sort this out. You aren't taking off. You gave me your word. Did you forget that?"

She had forgotten, which was shocking to her. She wasn't used to interacting with others and she had committed herself to him. She'd made that her choice. She didn't know the first thing about relationships or men. She only knew what she did and didn't like. She loved the way he treated her when they were alone and detested the cold, remote way he treated her in front of his team. She didn't understand it. When she didn't understand something, she was wary of it.

"I had forgotten," she admitted honestly. "I don't like this, Trap. Not at all."

He was silent, his eyes, still glacier-cold, on her face. Chilling her to the bone. Right through the bone to the marrow. She actually shivered. He was so removed she wasn't certain he was the same man.

"I don't like who you are right now." She had no idea how to soft-soap it. Maybe she didn't even want to. She didn't believe she was striking out at him, although she was hurt, but those were her honest feelings. She didn't like who he was.

Something flickered in his eyes. Deep. Beneath the blue glacier. Something she couldn't quite catch but she wished she had. "That's too bad, baby, because this is me. This is how I keep it together when my woman is in danger and I've allowed her to become a target to draw the fuckers out. This is who I am when I'm in public. You can't take that, Cayenne, I guess we need to know that now."

There it was, her out.

He shook his head and caught her chin, forcing up her face, so her eyes met his. "That's not an out. That's we'll fix this when we get home."

Cay

enne sighed and held herself silent, instead of telling him to go to hell like she should. She caught a glimpse of something behind the ice in his eyes. More, and she hated to admit it to herself, the pull between them was so strong, even when he was a jerk beyond all comprehension, the fact that he confessed to her in his not-so-nice way that she was his woman and he had to "keep it together" while she was in danger. That she could understand. When a person had enhanced physical components that made them lethal, they had to be especially careful when something upset that. More than anyone else, she understood that.

Cayenne nodded her head. "We'll talk about it at the factory," she conceded, not giving him anything else. She couldn't. The hurt ran deep, and she hadn't expected that.

"At home." He bit the word out between his immaculate, straight white teeth.

She couldn't look away from the ice in his eyes, afraid if she couldn't pull her gaze away, she'd be frozen from the inside out. Very slowly she nodded her head. "I don't know what a home is, Trap, but yes, there, where we sleep."

The moment she uttered those words, she knew she'd made a mistake. His expression didn't change, but beneath the ice, the same flicker of emotion came and went, but for her, deep inside the very core of her, she remembered the feel of his mouth on her most intimate parts. The feel of his most intimate part deep in her mouth. Her feminine sheath pulsed. Spasmed. Warm liquid heated the junction of her legs. She forced her body to remain absolutely still so the squirm wouldn't give her away.

Trap's eyes moved over her face and again, there was a hint of possession, but something else was there, stroking at her skin. At the hurt. Like a soothing caress. Abruptly he leaned down and scooped up the dress, bunching it in his hands. "Let's go. I have to pay for these."

She opened her mouth to protest, but he shook his head and stepped out of the fitting room, looking around. The store was empty other than his teammates. "You're clear right now. Stay away from the windows."

She stood at the back of the store while he went up front and paid. She watched him the entire time. Not once did his expression change with Mrs. March as she gamely tried to engage him in conversation. He simply didn't answer a single comment, so in the end, the clerk fell silent as well.

Gino faced the front of the store and Draden stayed close to Trap, close enough to protect him if there was trouble. She might be the one a team was sent to terminate, but Trap's team members were determined to keep him alive. That made her feel a little better. She didn't want any of them getting hurt on her behalf.

Once again, as they went to leave the store, Gino stepped out first. Trap moved in close to her and went to circle her waist with his arm. She sidestepped away from him, thinking she was out of reach, but he had long arms and he caught her hip, preventing her from stepping out of the boutique.

Wait for me. Ezekiel and Gino have to clear the streets first.

CHAPTER 11

"Where are they going to hit us?" Trap asked, the cell on speaker so they could all hear. "Most likely places."

Not if, but are. Trap knew the termination squad would try for her. There was no way to get out of the vehicle and lead the men away, but still, maybe Trap would see reason. "Trap," Cayenne began.

He held up his hand for silence, not looking at her. Cayenne sighed and stared out the window. She was either part of his team or she wasn't. It appeared she wasn't. He didn't even want to hear what she had to say. She knew his team went into war zones, the hottest zones possible, but that didn't negate the fact that she'd taken on several of Whitney's teams of supersoldiers. She knew how they thought. What they would try. She was more familiar with them than they were.

"There's a bend about three miles from you, the curve is sharp and the swamp closes in on either side. It's away from traffic and a perfect place to hit you. I'm going to come to you and try to get in behind them with Joe, Diego and Rubin," Wyatt's voice intoned over the cell.

Cayenne didn't know Joe or the others, but she assumed they were more of Trap's team members. She didn't care what Trap said, or how many times he held up his hand for silence. Her heart beat wildly, because she knew. She just knew. "You can't do that, Wyatt," she said, unable to help herself. "They'll expect you to come to our aid. I can guarantee they've got at least four, maybe five others ready to hit your house and go after the girls. We won't need help. We've got more manpower than you do."

To her surprise, Trap didn't try to silence her. Mordichai, driving, slowed the vehicle and pulled to the side. Immediately, Gino and Draden climbed out. Gino stood on the side step and hung on to the passenger door. Draden moved to the back and stood on the fender. Ezekiel slipped into the swamp.

"Roger that," Wyatt said. "We'll handle them here."

"They have a kind of armor built into their bodies," Cayenne continued. "Braden and Whitney tried to duplicate the webbing of a spider woven tight and injected it onto their bones. It didn't work, so he used a liquid metal. That gave them an inside armor, but it also somewhat distorted their bodies and they don't live long because he revved up their systems. They run on adrenaline. They're fast, really, really fast. Don't be deceived by their bulk. They'll keep coming at you."

"I've fought them before," Wyatt reminded. "They were difficult to kill."

"I remember. Go for the throat. You have to be precise when you do. There isn't that much on them that's vulnerable. Inside the mouth. The eyes. The throat is the best bet. Do you have a sniper?"

"Diego has one of the longest shots recorded, over a mile in a wind. He'll do," Wyatt said. "He thinks Ezekiel outshoots him, but they're close."

"Ongoing argument," Mordichai said. "Those two don't like it and give us the bird whenever we have it, which makes it all the more fun."

Cayenne instantly recognized the easy camaraderie. She'd never had that. She wished she had, but then, she wasn't certain she'd know what to do with it if she did. Being so close to so many people was difficult for a prolonged period of time, especially in the close confines of the vehicle.

"Make it a throat shot. Sometimes they use guards in their mouths, woven webs that fit in like a mouthpiece. Same with eye covers. If they're wearing that, the throat is your only bet. They tried using shirts and wraps, but they couldn't produce enough silk. Orb spiders working night and day, millions of them, couldn't produce it. Braden and Whitney . . ." She trailed off, one hand going to her own throat in a defensive position.

She became aware of eyes on her. Every man, even those outside the SUV, was watching her. She swallowed hard, trying to push memories away. The door in her mind yawned wide and threatened to pull her into that nightmare.

Baby. Trap said it softly into her mind. Intimately.

There he was when she didn't want him there. Not then. Not when the nightmares were pushing in. He had to stay removed from her. Remote. Not the Trap she knew. The other one. The ice-cold jerk.

Don't. Not now.

She knew she sounded like she was choking, because she was. She couldn't pull her hand from her throat, not even when she knew all of the men with their piercing eyes saw her fingers trembling.

Trap shifted subtly, but his bulk blocked her body from the others. His hand slipped over hers, fingers curling around her throat, over her hand, warm and strong. Whatever they did to you, baby, know that they can't touch you now. It's over. They won't get their hands on you. You aren't alone this time. You aren't locked up.

She nodded, forcing air through her lungs. Trying to close the door in her mind that had cracked open so the nightmare could spill out. Trap was intelligent. She could weave silk. He had to know--or at least guess--what they had tried to take from her. He couldn't know how painful those sessions had been, pinned like an insect to a table, pierced with needles while men laughed cruelly and made fun of her. She let her lashes sweep down to veil her eyes, trying to hide the terror and agony from Trap. She didn't want him to know the things they'd said about her. What she was--not human--a monster.

They always shot her full of a

drug so she couldn't move. She could barely breathe, but they kept her aware. Always aware. For a moment she couldn't breathe. Strangely, it was Trap's hand over hers, his large palm completely enveloping hers, so that the pads of his fingers were against her skin, his thumb sliding along her jaw.

"Thanks for the tips, Cayenne," Wyatt said. "I want updates the moment you take out the team," he added to the others.

"We'll need cleaners," Trap reminded. "We can't have bodies lying around in the swamp. Reporter hanging around."

"Has he followed you?"

"That he has. He's hanging back, but he's pulled over. Draden's going to incapacitate him right before we move out again."

Cayenne swung her head around, looking out the back window. She'd missed that. She didn't miss much, but being inside the vehicle surrounded by Trap's team was difficult for her and she hadn't been as alert as she should have been.

Trap swept the pad of his thumb along the vulnerable line of Cayenne's jaw. He leaned close to her, giving her his warmth. His body's shelter and protection. You okay now, baby?

He'd seen the door in her mind, that glimpse of hell. He had his own door, his own hell, but the thought of Cayenne's small body pinned to a table, needles holding her down in the way an entomologist would pin an insect, filled his throat with bile. His stomach churned, knotted, a terrifying rage building that needed to be kept under the glacier of ice protecting the world around him from the havoc he could wreak.

Her gaze came back to his. Caught there. He held his breath. She was beautiful. Exotic. He couldn't imagine that other men hadn't seen her the way he did. She might be pint-sized, but she had lush curves perfectly proportioned so that along with the hourglass in her hair and embedded in the tight curls covering her mound, her figure was a perfect little hourglass.

He still had the taste of her on his tongue and he knew that would never go away. Exotic like she was. Ruby lips, full and inviting, it was difficult to keep from taking advantage right there, knowing she was hurting, especially with the taste of her filling his mouth. He wanted this over, wanted her safe. Facing her going into battle with them sickened him, but at least he could control this, be there to look out for her, instead of her trying to do it all herself.