Ghostwalker 06 - Predatory Game

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 Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
    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.
    A soft muted sound stopped him cold. Saber was weeping, a muffled, heartbroken sound that tore his heart right out of his chest. Damn the GhostWalkers and the all-too-necessary security precautions.
    Damn the security guard and Brian for withholding a warning.
    “I’ll go.” His guest moved out of the shadows.
    “I’m sorry for the inconvenience,” Jess forced himself to say. He couldn’t very well tell her to go to hell.

    Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
    Louise Charter, the admiral’s secretary, had risked her life to hand deliver a small digital recorder to him, yet at that moment, all he could hear, could concentrate on, all he cared about, were the soft sounds of distress emanating from the bedroom upstairs.
    Saber never cried in front of him. Not even if she was injured. Tears might sparkle for a moment, but in ten long months, Saber Wynter had never cried.
    Jess knew he was bordering on rudeness when he ushered Louise from his home with unseemly haste.
    The moment the door was closed