Toxic Game (GhostWalkers 15)

“Thanks, man. I want to marry her at sunset. It’s beautiful here when the sun is just sliding out of the sky and the forest is beginning to stir.”

“You’re going to want it light enough for all of us to see, especially if Zara and Bellisia are watching. Bellisia is in Louisiana, and Zara is up in the mountains of Montana. We’re here in Sumatra.”

“I’d forgotten about that. We’ll set the ceremony for a half hour before sunset. That way we’ll have both. I put cameras on the list for outside and inside. I think I can hook it all together. At least I hope so.”

“If you can’t, and you promise Bellisia a wedding, you may as well stay right where you are because if you don’t come through, she’ll end you herself. Zara will be sweet about it, but knowing you disappointed her, it will be Gino who will come after you.”

Draden couldn’t help smiling and it felt good. Wyatt called it exactly the way it would be. Gino would probably punch him for making his woman sad, and Bellisia would at least pretend to do him in.

“I don’t think I’ve actually seen you smile before,” Wyatt observed. “This woman must be the real deal to teach you how to smile.”

That brought him up short. He didn’t smile often, but he did smile, didn’t he? He honestly couldn’t say. At Nonny? He’d brushed a kiss on her cheek before he’d left for the mission. They all had said good-bye in their own way to her. No, he hadn’t smiled. The triplets? The three beautiful little girls with their dark curls and large eyes and quirky little ways? They were all three geniuses, which wasn’t too surprising considering Wyatt was off the charts and Pepper was extremely intelligent. No, he didn’t smile around them either and he should have. He liked them. He thought the three were little troublemakers and funny as hell, so why didn’t he smile?

He had begun his modeling career early when he’d been “discovered,” and in those shoots he hadn’t smiled. They hadn’t wanted him to smile and he hadn’t felt like it. He’d been living two lives. One on the street and one in the world of cameras and high-powered men and woman who’d looked at him as a commodity and nothing more. He doubted if they’d even known his name. The money had put him through college, so he’d let them take his picture, but he’d avoided any contact with anyone who might uncover his earlier days. The publicity would have been good for his career, but he hadn’t wanted anyone knowing his business.

“I didn’t want your woman to see my smile. I was protecting your marriage.” As comebacks went, it was lame, but it was a good first try. He heard the way Malichai and Mordichai razzed the others. They were good at camaraderie. He was still learning what real camaraderie was, not the fake smile and pretend, like he’d taught Trap. He wished he had the time to work with Trap more and do a better job of explaining so the man would understand—like he was just getting—that friends and family were important enough to make an effort with.

“You wish.”

“How is she? She was so sick, we were all worried. You must hate being away from her.” Draden felt guilty about that, although he didn’t know why.

“I don’t like it, but she’s strong. I talk to her and the girls several times a day. The girls are having fun there. It’s a different environment. I should have thought to take them to a place that would be safe for them and expose them to other surroundings. As for Pepper, she doesn’t do well being separated from me, but she knows it’s necessary. She always says to give you her love and that she’s thinking of you.”

“She’s like Nonny. Lots of heart.” It was true. Draden realized he judged all women by Nonny now. Pepper took care of them all the way Nonny did. She had no mother and no one to guide her, so she patterned herself after her favorite woman. Pepper was very close to Nonny. He wanted that for Shylah.

“That’s a nice thing to say, Draden,” Wyatt said. “I’ll pass it on to her. She loves Nonny and that will be the best compliment anyone could ever pay her.”

“What about Cayenne? How is she doing without Trap?”

“She hasn’t killed anyone yet, but she won’t FaceTime him. She’s wrapped herself up in silk and refuses to talk to anyone other than Pepper and Zara. Zara seems to be able to get her to eat and drink a little.”

There was a hint of worry in Wyatt’s voice that Draden picked up on immediately. Trap didn’t turn around, nor was there any indication that he heard, but Draden knew better. Cayenne was his world. He was sacrificing a lot in order to stay there and work while his pregnant wife was far from him. She was the most lethal, self-sufficient woman Draden could imagine, and yet entirely dependent on her husband. The dichotomy was very strange.

“Can you and Trap work in Montana? It might be safer for you there. If the Williams brothers and their friend Orucov are heading that way then all of you would be safer to get out.”

“Do you think that’s a real possibility?”

“I haven’t found enough on them to get a reading for what they might do, but Shylah thinks so and she’s been tracking them, so she knows them better than anyone else. She thinks it’s a possibility. Right now, all we know for certain is that they left in a hurry. The last sighting was in the village with the MSS, but they disappeared, using the river as an escape route. We discussed the fact that they despise Whitney and may decide to take out a GhostWalker team in retaliation, but we have no evidence pointing to that conclusion.”

“Word was put out and law enforcement everywhere is looking for them. Airports, any point of entry, have been notified.”

“Why don’t you all pick up and move to Montana? Trap could be with Cayenne and I wouldn’t have to worry that you’re a target.”

“We need to be close to you, Draden. We can’t afford the time it would take to get the blood samples flown to Montana, or Louisiana for that matter. I’m working with Trap and I’m used to him being a bear. The girls and Nonny will take care of Cayenne. We’ll all get through this. You’re the only one of us Trap acknowledges as a brother …”

That got a snort of derision from Trap, but he didn’t turn around.

“Other than me, of course,” Wyatt added.

Trap did turn around. “I’d like you a lot better if you’d help instead of gab all the time. You’re worse than an old gossipy woman.”

Wyatt flashed a grin. “Now he’s in for it. I can’t wait to tell Nonny what he just said. Not only is it sexist, but he’s just insulted my grand-mere.”

“I didn’t. She doesn’t gossip.”

“She would tell you that women don’t gossip any more than men do. She’s been to the Huracan Club and she’s known Delmar Thibodeaux all her life. He’s the biggest gossip in the bayou or swamp. Probably in all of Louisiana,” Wyatt said.

Trap scowled and shook his head. “You can add your name to that list,” he muttered as he turned back to his work.

Wyatt laughed, and Draden felt lighter just listening to it. Wyatt had the Fontenot laugh, the one Nonny had. It was genuine and invited others to join in.

“I’ll let you go, but think about having Ezekiel move everyone to a safer place,” Draden said.

“We’ve got everything in place in the swamp to get them if they come close to our territory,” Wyatt

said. “We’ve got the home court advantage there. A stranger shows up out there, we know about it almost immediately. Zeke’ll get them, Draden. You concentrate on fighting this thing and having a good day with your woman.”

“Will do.” Draden ended the call and sat for a long time listening to the night sounds and letting peace steal into him.

He had a lot to do to make the wedding special for his bride. The remote lab was going to need a complete makeover, and he’d start there. He was still going to have to get blood from Shylah, but he didn’t intend to allow her into the lab until their marriage ceremony. He’d take it in the ranger cabin, freeze it there, and then hand it off to Joe. Having made his plans, he got to work.

14

Shylah woke to the sounds of birds. It sounded like dozens of them right outside the cabin. There were lilting sounds, whistles and a strange call that sounded like “took, took,” as if the birds were tattling on one another. Each seemed to be vying for who could be the loudest complainer. After the strange call, the birds would erupt into maniacal laughter. She lay listening to it, wondering what kind of bird made sounds like that.

Draden was wrapped around her, his body close to hers, one arm circling her waist. She remained relaxed, enjoying the way he felt, his hands large, taking in her bare skin where her shirt had ridden up. His fingers were spread wide, as if to get the largest expanse possible. She didn’t know if that were true, but she loved that it felt that way.

There was something amazing about being with Draden. In part it was the way he made her feel about herself. She was always very aware of her attributes. She didn’t need Whitney’s validation in order to feel good or bad about herself. She didn’t have that kind of nature. She’d always felt bad for Zara, who could have used even one compliment from the man. Or Bellisia, who didn’t think she was attractive because Whitney had told her so practically from birth.

Shylah had no idea why she was so self-possessed, but she was grateful. She had no trouble making up her mind to defy Whitney and take whatever punishment he doled out. Through it all, she had quietly accepted that one day he would ask her to go after someone she didn’t think deserved it and she’d have to end her life by allowing one of his viruses to kill her. Because she’d always known that was how her life would end, she hadn’t been as horrified when Draden had first told her he was infected. The way the virus killed was horrific, but there was always a bullet, and she was pragmatic about that.