She wasn't going to budge on her threat. If he didn't come in and watch the baby, she was staying inside. Suppose he decides to dart you from a distance and take you while you were out? That's what I'd do.
He's not as smart as you, and in any case, you'd come after me, kill him, and take me back, so no matter what, you have to come inside and look after our son.
She'd pulled the "our son" card. How did a man react to that one? Women had sneaky little ways about them. He had all the logic in the world on his side, but it didn't seem to matter, not when she knew how to twist everything until there was no way but hers.
Kane sighed and capitulated. Coming in. Are you going to win every argument? He was pretty certain he'd asked her that once before. Maybe twice.
Only the important ones.
He should have been angry at the feminine pleasure in her voice, but he loved her laughter, and he'd take it no matter how it came--even if he was the recipient of her amusement.
He slipped and slid down the last slope to the trail leading to the door. As he turned back to cover his tracks, he spotted Carlson and Fargo. They were hunched low, running to get in place before Rose's normal time to sit outside. She'd already established a pattern, and they were counting on it. That gave him pause. Rose was a trained soldier. She knew better than to repeat patterns, yet neither Carlson nor Fargo had questioned her movements. He'd talked to her about varying the time she sat outside, but she'd been adamant that she sit outside at the same time each night. Which again made no sense until she explained.
Whitney expected her to forget her training, to become undisciplined in her actions because she was a woman out in the world without someone giving commands. He'd told them over and over that they would fail out of their environment. They weren't male, and they needed a commander. Rose was giving Whitney what he expected.
She opened the door, and while the two sentries watched her, he slipped inside.
CHAPTER 8
Kane started for the ledge just below the window, intending to crawl up onto it, but his son let out an alarming wail. If his lungs were anything to go by, the boy was getting stronger with each passing day. Kane changed direction and hurried into the back bedroom. Sebastian was in the warmer. He'd kicked off his cover and was squirming, his face red, eyes closed tight, fists punching the air and his feet kicking. Something inside Kane went soft, and he let out his breath slowly.
"What's wrong, little man?" He used his most soothing voice. Very gently he lifted the boy from the warmer and brought him in close to his chest, upright, supporting the little head.
Sebastian was so small he felt incredibly light in his hands, and Kane was still a little worried that he might accidentally hurt the child by holding him too tight. Each time he took the boy into his arms, he felt that curious melting of his heart. Newborn babies had their own weapons, that sweet helpless need and the soft, newborn skin. He cuddled Sebastian close and walked back and forth until the boy settled.
"I'm a little anxious, my man, and I need you to calm down right now. Your mother is out there exposed to the enemy, and we need to have her back on this."
His son abruptly stopped fussing, his eyes snapping open. They stared at each other. For one strange moment, Kane felt as if he were looking into the eyes of an adult, intelligent and aware. Kane smiled down at him. "We're not going to let anything happen to her, are we?" He talked to the boy as he moved quickly back to the living room. He shifted the baby to his shoulder, using one hand to anchor him and caught up his rifle with the other.
"Don't worry, Sebastian. No one is going to take your mother from us. She's a fighter all the way, and could probably handle this on her own, but we're just going to make sure."
Rose would probably give him a lecture about taking a baby into a combat situation, but that was too damned bad. The boy was born into their world, and he would have to grow up knowing every single moment of his life he would have to be vigilant.
"I'll teach you, son, everything you'll need to know to keep yourself alive and free of our enemies. And how to keep your mom safe." He nuzzled the boy's head. "We'll never tell her that part; it will be our secret."
He shoved the rifle up into the niche of the ledge. It was designed with maximum ability to see outside, yet the walls were reinforced to withstand any incoming bullets. "I'm going to put you down for just a moment while I climb up there. It's a tight fit for us, but we don't mind small spaces, not when it comes to safety."
He kept up a running commentary, explaining everything he was doing, convinced it was his voice and not the subject matter that kept his son so alert and enthralled with what they were doing. He put the boy onto the ledge, tucking his body close to the wall so there was no danger of him falling. It took a moment to slide in and get into a position on his belly where he had full view of the surrounding terrain. Only then did he position the baby close to his chest, dragging the bulletproof bumpers that had been installed for extra protection around the boy.
"See, we're good. I need to get you little earmuffs in case we have to fire this thing. That will be my next invention. And we're very grateful the walls are sound-proofed, so no one hears when you cry, my man. We can't have them knowing you were born yet." He went on to explain the mechanics of a rifle and scope and how his son likely had excellent night vision, which would help considerably in night combat situations. And did he see that scumbag Carlson inching his way closer to Mommy? Kane stopped talking abruptly. Telling an infant about putting a bullet in the bastard's head was probably one of those things Rose would deem inappropriate. He looked down at the boy, who stared back at him with wide, intelligent eyes.
"Um, maybe we'll wait until you're a bit older before we discuss shooting bad people and when it's okay and when it's not." He stroked the pad of his finger along his son's soft palm in a loving caress. The boy closed his fist around the finger and held on. Kane found himself smiling as he put his eye to the scope and centered on Carlson as the man inched his way closer to Rose.
Rose sat in her chair, feet sprawled out in front of her, looking up at the stars scattered across the night sky. She didn't appear to notice the close proximity of the enemy as he moved within twenty feet of her. Kane studied her. She rubbed her apparently pregnant belly with one hand. The other was at her side, out of sight.
"Sebastian, your mother is one cool customer." There was pride in his voice. He couldn't help it. She looked so small and fragile, with her porcelain skin and her wide, almond eyes, dark as melting chocolate. She looked helpless. "She's about as helpless as I am, boy. Don't you ever forget that or disrespect her abilities. Your mother is extraordinary."
The boy tightened his fingers as if understanding every word. Did people talk baby talk to infants, or hold real conversations? Kane was the kind of man who could never manage to summon baby talk. The boy had to learn from the earliest age possible that his life wasn't normal and never would be. "We'll do our best to give you a childhood, Sebastian," he promised. "But you'll have to know things kids shouldn't have to know. I think truth is best, don't you?"
He shifted the scope to find Fargo. Fargo was observing Carlson, not Rose. He held something small in his palm. He was transmitting to Whitney behind Carlson's back, no doubt about it. Carlson was a sacrificial pawn, caught between Whitney and whatever the doctor had promised to Fargo. Fargo might not like Whitney and even understood on s
ome level that he was just as likely to double-cross Fargo as Carlson, but the man just couldn't resist whatever carrot Whitney dangled in front of him.
"There's a huge amount of speculation about whether or not Whitney has his own psychic ability, Sebastian," Kane mused aloud, "and I'm coming down heavily on the side for it. I think he reads people, whether they have gifts and what their weaknesses are. It's why he stays in business. He's a master at manipulation. Never forget that, and never trust anything he says or does."
He rubbed his chin on the butt of the rifle, frowning. "And that leads us to the main question. Why was he in league with Diego Jimenez? What do you think, son? Something stinks about this entire thing." He winked at the child. "And it's not your diapers."
Thank God it wasn't the diapers. Diaper changing ranked right up there with--well--okay he'd pull any other duty gladly. Fortunately, Rose didn't seem to mind and actually, surprisingly, the boy didn't reek like Kane thought he would.
He kept his attention centered on Carlson, the real threat to Rose. Fargo would back his play if it came to it, grabbing her, but he wouldn't initiate violating orders. Carlson pushed his luck again, inching another foot forward.
Rose's head went up alertly. She pushed herself out of the chair. Carlson froze as she slowly and carefully looked around as if spooked.
"Your mommy is so smart," he whispered to the baby. "That's my woman. Scare the crap out of the bastard." He cleared his throat. "Don't use that word, son. Especially never in your mother's presence. She'd probably stick a knife in my gut." He cleared his throat again. "Don't ever repeat our conversations to her either. I'm fairly certain she wouldn't be happy with anything I'm saying to you."
Rose stepped out of the safety box and he switched from praise to cursing. Don't you even fucking think about taking him out, Rose. You take one more step, and I'm coming out. You ignore me on this and see what happens.
Already he was shifting his weight, ready to go if she defied him.
Sheesh. You never let me have any fun. I was just messing with him.
He breathed away the tight coiling snake in his belly. She was about as predictable as the wind. Well, stop. You're giving me a heart attack.