Predatory Game

  "You've got to tell me what's going on, Jess," Logan said, shifting in his chair, leaning forward. "We've been friends too long for you to shut me out."

  Jess nodded. "Give me a few days to sort through all this. We're not even close to finding the traitor yet, so there's no way we could have spooked anyone. Just let me figure things out."

  "Don't wait too long," Logan cautioned. "In our business, things go to hell very fast." Idly, he picked up a folder sitting beneath a lamp on the desk and turned it over and over in his hands. Jess leaned forward to take it and immediately Logan flipped it open. "What is this?"

  Jess held out his hand. "Nothing important."

  Logan inhaled sharply. "Don't bullshit me. This is your medical file. Bionics?" He was silent a moment flipping through the thick pages. "Lily sent you this, didn't she? For God's sake, Jess, she's Whitney's daughter. We've already got some bastard trying to kill us all, we've had our brains opened wide and our DNA altered, isn't that enough for you? Tell me you didn't agree to do this."

  Jess remained silent.

  "Bionics." Logan murmured the word aloud. "Another experiment?"

  Jess shrugged, trying to look casual. "The latest technology. Eric Lambert told me about it first when he was here checking on me. He said Lily Whitney has already advanced it."

  "And convinced you to be her guinea pig? You don't think that what her father did to us was enough?" Logan took a breath. "Do you really trust her, Jess? I know she's married to Ryland and he's one of ours, but..."

  "She lives in that house, knowing every minute of every day that Whitney has to be able to see and hear what she's doing so she can keep track of him. She lives in hell, Logan. Yeah, I trust her. She's helped every single GhostWalker in some way, from the exercises she teaches us to help shield our brains from outside disturbances, to making each of us financially independent. Without her, we wouldn't have half the data on Whitney that we have. She uses the computers to spy on him."

  "How do you know she's not a double agent?"

  Jess shook his head. "We're all getting so paranoid. Look at what we're doing to the admiral. We've known the old man for years, but we're looking into every aspect of his life. Now you don't think we can trust Lily? If there's one person here who has suffered the most, who has given up everything, it's her. She knows he can find her, maybe even get to her, but she sticks herself out there so we can keep track of him. Without those computers we're dead in the water. He'll go under and we'll never find him."

  "You're betting your life on her," Logan growled. "She's very much like her father."

  "That isn't fair. She's brilliant like her father, otherwise she's nothing like him." He pushed aside the little voice in his head reminding him of the iguana and lizard DNA as well as the adult stem cell regeneration drug he'd been administered. It would sound far too close to Lily's father's experiments.

  It was Peter Whitney, a billionaire with an extraordinary mind, who had managed to talk them all into his psychic experiments, not telling them--or anyone else--that it wasn't the first time he'd tried it on human beings. He had first experimented on orphans, infants, small children he'd had complete power over--including Lily, the child he'd adopted. As time went on they discovered he had also genetically altered them all. And he had continued his experiments, so no one knew how many women or men had been affected. Lily was trying to find out.

  "I worked with her a lot while I was in the hospital recouping," Jess admitted. "She's committed to helping the GhostWalkers, all of them. She wants to find the other women and track down any other teams he may have worked on, so they can eventually live semi-normal lives."

  "None of us are ever going to be able to do that," Logan said. "You know it as well as I do. And letting her experiment on you with bionics..."

  "What do I have to lose?"

  "Your life."

  "You just said none of us were ever going to have one," Jess pointed out. "In any case, it's too late. I've committed to the program."

  There was a long silence. Logan leapt out of his chair and paced across the room, swearing under his breath.

  "It's that woman upstairs, isn't it, Jess? She's making you crazy, man." Logan turned to face Jess. "I'm not going to let this happen. I mean it. We've been friends too long. If she doesn't want you because you're in a chair..."

  "That's not it and you know it. I wanted to try this. Once Eric mentioned the bionics program, I studied it, and when I took it to Lily, she asked me to let her see if she could improve things a little. With my enhancements, she wanted to add a few things that might work better for me." Things that would regenerate cells so his legs would actually work, things like iguana DNA and cells from his bone marrow. Who really knew what was in that bone marrow, since Peter Whitney had already added to the strange DNA that was now his?

  "It's still an experiment."

  "I didn't walk into it blind. You know me better than that. I won't stop until I find out who the mole is, and I'm going to walk again."

  Logan shook his head. "You're not giving me much choice here, Jess."

  "I'm aware of that. Let's get back to work. We've got a couple of hours to go through the rest of these reports. Maybe something will jump out at us."

  Logan took another look at the file on bionics and then tossed it on the desk with another shake of his head. "Stubborn son of a bitch."

  "You don't know the half of it." Jess flashed a small grin and went back to work.

  Subject Jess Calhoun. Called in another GhostWalker tonight, Logan Maxwell. Calhoun is definitely still working with the SEAL GhostWalker team. At this time I have no further data on what he might be up to. Could not get the opportunity to plant the devices, as the virus has not reacted as we'd hoped. Wynter's system is quite resistant. Will try again and up the dose. Need your input and help with finding the security flaws. So far, cannot penetrate without detection. Please advise. Both subjects appear to have the same vulnerability. If their adversary is not enhanced, neither appears to have any alarm or radar going off. Your observations were correct, and I believe you should take steps to correct that in any future models.

  The man clicked off his small recorder and leaned back against the plush leather seat as he switched on the radio. Immediately the car was flooded with the voice of the Night Siren. Sensuous. Like silk sheets. He felt it penetrate right through him, stroking his skin and hardening his groin. He adjusted his legs and closed his eyes, listening, knowing she was talking to him. He could feel her fingers, her tongue and mouth. So erotic. So much promise.

  He shouldn't have dispatched the whore so soon. She wasn't anything like that voice, but she had a good mouth on her. He unzipped his trousers and began to stroke himself to the sound of Saber Wynter's sexy voice.

  CHAPTER 3

  "For all my night owls out there, this is a special love song from the Night Siren to you." Saber sent her soft, whispery voice out over the airwaves, punched in the music, and stared up at the clock for the hundredth time.

  Her head was shrieking at her, she had a sore throat, and she had wiped beads of sweat from her forehead more than once. She couldn't even come up with decent dialogue for tonight's program. The sexy Night Siren of the airwaves was as sick as she could possibly be. She had been at work exactly two hours and she was ready to surrender.

  Saber rubbed her temples, trying to soothe the awful pounding. She had fallen asleep at six in the morning and, unusual for her, had slept all day. The sore throat and headache had been with her from the moment she'd opened her eyes.

  "Jesse spent the day doing incantations," she muttered resentfully. He had looked the epitome of health as she went off to work, but he had been distant. Well, that wasn't exactly true. Jesse was never distant, but she felt he was closed off to her, and he was never that. She sighed and laid her head down on the desk, using her arms for a pillow. She was too sick to figure anything out.

  Brian Hutton, her soundman, waved to her from the other side of the glass, indicating
the telephone. When he mouthed Larry's name, Saber wrinkled her nose in distaste and shook her head. Just the idea of the louse increased the awful pounding in her temples. She was going to have to go home, crawl in bed, and hope she could fall asleep with the lights on.

  She flicked a switch. "Brian, I'm not going to make it tonight," she said with genuine regret. She had never missed a day of work, had never even been late. It meant something to her to be able to go to work, however brief her stay always was. She liked having a clean record, knew they would think well of her after she left.

  "You look like hell," Brian informed her.

  "Oh, thanks. I needed to hear that. Would you cover for me so I could go home and get some sleep?"

  "Sure, Saber," he agreed sympathetically. "It's just as well, the crazies are calling in tonight."

  Her fingers wrapped around the microphone, and everything inside of her stilled. "What crazies, Brian?" She had waited too long. She should have left weeks earlier.

  "Don't worry about it," he reassured. "We get them all the time, that's why I'm here, to weed them out. I always make sure I clue you in on the death threats. The nut tonight was very persistent, but he wasn't out to gun you down or save your soul. He was just another weirdo, probably looking for a date with the owner of that sexy voice."

  Saber forced a laugh, forced her tense muscles to relax. "If they could only see me now." But she would have to be more careful than usual. She'd grown too comfortable here. Too comfortable with Jess.

  Brian pulled one of her tapes and found the entrance he wanted. They did a silent countdown and her voice feathered out into the studio.

  Saber breathed a soft sigh of relief, dropping her head into her hands. All she wanted was to crawl into a hole and hide.

  Brian entered the sound booth and wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders. "You're burning up. You okay to drive? Or do you want me to call you a cab?"

  She patted his hand, shifting out from under him on the pretense of gathering her things together. "I'll be fine, Brian, thanks. Rest, orange juice, chicken soup, I'll be here tomorrow night with bells on." She held up her car keys. "I didn't lose them this time."

  He grinned at her. "That's a shock. Wait for the security guard. You know how Jess is about you wandering around in the parking lot alone this time of night. He'd have my job first, then my head, if I let you."

  "Poor Jesse." Saber smiled at the thought of him in spite of the fact that even her teeth hurt. "He really thinks I'm a pack of trouble, doesn't he?"

  Brian grinned at her. "He's right too. Come on, I'll walk you down."

  "Thanks, I'm fine, really, but next time you want to take a day off, do it on someone else's shift. The day sound guy, whatever his name is..."

  "Les."

  She rolled her eyes. "He's a grump and a bore. Last night was no fun at all working with him."

  He grinned at her. "I'll be sure to plan all my future days off around your schedule."

  She thumped his shoulder, knowing sarcasm when she heard it. "The phones are lighting up all over the place."

  He shrugged, uncaring. "Probably that nut. He's called six times already tonight. I don't want to talk to him."

  "Might be," Saber agreed. "But on the other hand it could be our mighty boss. Ever think of that?"

  Brian's smile faded instantly. He was halfway down the hall by the time Saber lifted a heavy hand to wave before matching her short strides to the security guard's longer ones.

  The ride home seemed longer than usual. Saber was so sick she could barely keep her head up. She never got sick. She was so used to her body's natural immunity to illness, it was rather alarming to find she had a high fever. If she wasn't so afraid of calling attention to herself--and Jess--she might have considered seeing a doctor.

  Saber parked her small Volkswagen bug beside Jess's large, custom-made van. Her car looked incongruous next to the huge bulk of the van. She glared at the pair of cars, thinking of how many times Jess had teased her about how small she was. She kicked the tire in a spurt of resentment. So like the two of them. Mutt and Jeff. She didn't belong here. She could never belong here and she had to get the backbone to leave--and soon.

  The large house seemed unusually dark and spooky as she entered it. Saber resisted the urge to flood the room with light, not wanting to disturb Jess. She did enough of that on the nights she didn't work, keeping him awake with her phobias.

  There was no sound to warn her, yet suddenly Saber couldn't breathe, adrenaline pumping into her body, freezing her halfway through the foyer. There was no scent, no breath, no stirring of the air, but she knew, an eternity too late, she wasn't alone.

  Something snagged her ankles and she sprawled facedown on the hardwood floor, the breath knocked from her body. Before she could roll or retaliate, she felt the cold, deadly kiss of a gun barrel pressed against the nape of her neck.

  It all happened in seconds, yet time slowed down so that everything was crystal clear for Saber. The faint lemon in the polish on the wood floor, the beating of her heart, the pain in her lungs, the deadly feel of metal against her skin. Everything stilled as if she'd been waiting.

  They were here. They had hunted her, stalked her, and now they were here. Jesse. Oh God, she thought wildly. Jess was alone, asleep, vulnerable--what if they had hurt Jesse? Her vision tunneled, everything inside her coiling, ready to strike. She would have to kill the intruder in order to protect Jesse. Even if her assailant killed her, she would have to take him with her.

  The moment she put her hands palms down to push up off the floor, he shoved harder with the gun. "Don't do it."

  She had to get her hands on him, make him think she was a woman terrified out of her mind. She just needed that one moment where she could wrap her hand around his wrist, feel his pulse, his heartbeat...Saber went crazy, thrashing, trying to turn, arms flailing out at the gun to knock it aside. "Go ahead, shoot! Do it! Get it over with. I'm not running from you anymore." She caught at the gleaming barrel as she sat up, pulled it against her head. "Do it!" She judged the distance to his wrist. A moment, just one heartbeat and she had him.

  To her surprise, her assailant suddenly swore and yanked the gun back.

  "Saber!" Jess's voice was hoarse with a mixture of fear and anger. "Are you out of your mind sneaking in here like that? I could have shot you."

  Fury and relief met fear head on, mingled, and melted together in a violent swirl of emotion she couldn't contain. "You pulled a gun on me?" She flung herself at him, swinging at him with a clenched fist. She could have killed him--had come within a hairsbreadth of killing Jesse. Oh God, she could never--never--have lived with that.

  He caught both of her wrists, tipped her off balance, and brought her up hard against his legs. "Stop it, Saber." He gave her a little shake when she continued to struggle. "I had no idea you were coming home. It's hours early. You hate the dark and yet you didn't turn on a single light." He made the words an accusation.

  She was trembling uncontrollably, so close to tears it terrified her. "I was being considerate," she hissed. "Which is more than I can say for you. Let go of me, you're hurting me." She could have killed him. She would have killed him. Why hadn't she known it was him? She always recognized his scent, his warmth. She hadn't even recognized his voice. Maybe she had on some level afterward, but not at first, not when he'd come at her in the dark. Why? What had been different? Her mind raced with questions, but anger and hurt and terror overtook reason.

  "Are you calm?"

  "Don't patronize me. You put a gun to my head. God! I live here, Jesse, I can come and go as I please. And what are you doing sitting up at one o'clock in the morning, lights out, with a gun?" she demanded.

  Suddenly she knew. She felt another's presence, a witness to her hysterical outburst. Stiffening, she turned slowly. Saber caught a glimpse of a shadowy figure hastily backing out of sight. Tall, abundant curves. Saber's heart plunged right down to her toes. A woman. Jesse was with a woman in the middle of
the night. A stranger. With the lights off. Worse, Jess was so willing to protect that stranger that he had actually lain in wait with a gun. Betrayal was a bitter taste in Saber's mouth. And why hadn't she scented the woman?

  A small flame began to smolder. Had he held the woman in his strong arms? Run his hands through her hair? Kissed her the way Saber had so longed for him to kiss her? Oh God, they'd probably been making love, right there in the living room. The fire spread. And the woman had witnessed Saber's lack of control. Her gaze was riveted to Jess's hard features. It was a silent accusation of betrayal and she didn't give a damn if he knew how she felt. She'd spent way too long here, risked too much. Damn you to hell for this.

  Saber evaded his instinctive move toward her, pressing the back of her hand to her mouth. She felt betrayed, utterly betrayed. If it was possible to hate Jess, right at that moment, she did.

  "Saber." There was an ache in his voice.

  She whirled around and ran up the stairs, for the first time in years not caring or even noticing that the lights were out. She went straight through to her bedroom, her chest burning, fighting for air, her head pounding. She flung her shoes one after the other at the wall and threw herself facedown on the bed. If this was normal, it sucked. She didn't want normal anymore. She wanted to disappear, let Saber Wynter die and someone else, someone who didn't--couldn't--feel like this take her place.

  Jess doubled his fist wanting, needing, to smash something. In ten months Saber had never once come home early from work. The security guard should have called him, damn it. Brian should have called him. Why was she home? And what the hell was wrong with her? She hadn't known it was Jess holding the gun, he had been shielding the scents and sounds in the room, yet she had fought like a wildcat, even going so far as to scream at him to shoot her.

  Instantly he felt the jarring note. Not him. She believed him to be someone else. He winced as he heard her shoes crash against the wall. Who? Who had she expected? He moved toward the darkened living room.