Ghostwalker 03 - Night Game

that he wanted me to escape. How else could he test me in the world? In the field? Unlike his beloved Lily, I wasn’t co operative. He didn’t give me any run of the mill cancer; he made up his own. He needed to find a way to ensure I would have to come back to him. It didn’t occur to him I’d be willing to die.”

    There was absolute resolution in her voice. Gator felt something hard grab his heart and squeeze until he thought his chest might implode. “That’s not an option.” He forced the words out when his lungs burned for air.

    “It’s the only option. I’m not ever going back where he can get his hands on me. He’s evil. I don’t care how much he spouts that his work is invaluable to science and will save thousands, maybe millions of lives. He’s evil.”

    “Flame…”

    “Don’t.” She cut him off, her features set. “I weighed my options before I ever escaped. I knew he wanted something from me and if I left, maybe I’d be giving it to him. He didn’t think I’d be smart enough to figure it all out. He placed a microchip in my body to track me. It was here.” She pushed the low-riding jeans his grand mother had bought for her down farther so he could see the arc of flames along her hipbone. The tattoo covered an ugly scar.

    He heard a hoarse shout of protest echoing through his mind and for a moment was afraid he’d yelled out loud. He made himself breathe. “You cut the chip out of your body yourself.”

    “Damn right I did.”

    He wanted to hit something. Smash it. Drive his fists into something solid until he felt the physical pain. Maybe that would take away the churning rage and the terror of losing her.

    “Raoul.” She leaned close to him, laid her hand gently, almost tenderly on his chest, right over his heart. Her voice was soft, so low he barely caught the words. “The cabin is shaking. You have to calm down.”

    He let his breath out, his hand coming up to cover hers, pressing her palm closer to him.
    “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was losing control. You were just going to walk away, walk down that road and head out of town, weren’t you? Knowing you could die from an infection or from cancer. You were going to let it happen.”

    “I was protecting you. Both of us, really, but you’re in an impossible position. You’re so…” She searched for the right word. “Gallant. I can’t let you lose everything you have in the world when there’s no saving me. It’s not logical.”

    “Sometimes I want to shake you until your teeth rattle.”

    “Well try to control the impulse.” Flame moved around him to pace the length of the cabin restlessly. She knew the painkillers were making her anxious, but she couldn’t help it. “There are so many things I need to do. Burrell’s killers. Keep away from Whitney.
    Find Joy or at least find out what happened to her.”

    “We’ve been looking for Joy, but we haven’t turned up any information that will help us yet.” He jammed his hands into his pockets as if to keep from grabbing ahold of her.
    “We’re not finished talking about this.”

    “Well talk all you want. I’m finished. I’m really, really angry that you let that woman into my room when I was…” She broke off.

    “Vulnerable? You were vulnerable. Say it. It happens to all of us at one time or another.
    I’m not going to let you die because you’re too damned stubborn to see the truth when it’s staring you in the eye.” He had to work to keep his breathing slow and even. She could make him angrier than any other person on the face of the earth.

    “What truth? Yours? You didn’t even know Whitney was alive. You’re too trusting, Raoul, and it’s going to get you killed.”

    “Maybe, cher , but lack of trust will definitely get you killed.”

    “I’m going to get ready for bed after all. It’s warm in here.” It was warm just being in the same room with him. And for some reason, when he was angry, she found herself getting damp with need. Even her breasts ached. Maybe she was the pervert.

    Gator snatched up a bottle of beer and uncapped it, using the edge of the table. He sank into the one good armchair and took a long swig of the cold liquid, hoping it would cool his temper. She damn well wasn’t going to die on him. And he couldn’t get the vision of her scar beneath the tattoo out of his mind. He wanted to kiss it better. He just plain wanted. He pressed the beer bottle to his brow. It was going to be a long