Ghostwalker 09 - Ruthless Game

eyes. There was no subterfuge in Kane. He didn’t have a hidden agenda—not like she had. He didn’t lie about how he felt. He didn’t hide the fact that his body wanted her and he was uncomfortable with it. She doubted if there were too many men like him in the world. She didn’t need just anyone; she needed him.
    “I figured that out when I came up behind you in the room and you didn’t put up much resistance.” He smoothed back the hair fal ing around her face and ran the pad of his thumb down her skin.
    Rose tried not to shiver. Just as he’d entered the room where she waited for the informant, she’d inhaled and drawn his scent deep into her body, down into her lungs. She’d wanted to hold him there forever. She’d been so shocked that Kane had been the one to come for the hostages. Could a woman fal in love with a man just by observing him? By watching him through a window? She was afraid she lived in a dream world, not reality, because she had been alone and frightened far too long. There was no one else but Kane. Who else did she have? The other women in the compound had escaped and scattered to the winds, leaving her to face the birth of her baby alone. She wanted to burrow into him, stay in his arms where she felt safe, where she felt she final y had a sanctuary.
    He thought he’d hurt her when he’d had sex with her, that she had chosen him as the lesser of al evils—and maybe that was true to a smal extent—but he’d made her feel beautiful and special when no one ever had. He made her feel as if she mattered for the first time in her life. He’d been so gentle. She dreamt of him nearly every night, and now, being so close to him, the image of him rising above her, his body locked deep inside hers, flooded her mind and refused to leave.
    “Rose,” he prompted. “Talk to me about Jimenez. I think it’s important. How did you meet the man?”
    “Diego moved into the apartment across the street from mine.”
    “ After you, then. You were already established in your apartment?”
    Rose nodded, her heart beginning to pound. She knew where this was going now, and she couldn’t believe she’d al owed herself to be duped.
    “Who lived in that apartment when you first arrived? And why did they leave?”
    She was so tired. She just wanted to weep. And go to sleep. She shifted, a subtle movement, sliding closer to him, dropping her head on his chest. He had one of those thick chests that inspired fantasies and made a woman feel perfectly safe. She was very fond of his chest—a little hard though—but she found the perfect spot for her head. His arms closed around her, and her heart jumped. So did the baby. She closed her eyes and took his hand to press his palm to her bel y where their child played. Beneath his palm, the baby pushed as if in greeting.
    Rose expected him to pul his hand away, but his fingers, beneath hers, spread wide to take in more. She relaxed a little, al owing some of the tension to ease from her body. “There was a multi-generation family in the apartment when I first moved in. It was crowded, so I just figured they’d found a bigger place to live.”
    “Had they told anyone they were moving?”
    She was disgusted with herself. The family had children. The kids would have talked to their friends about leaving, and word would have gone along the street and through the neighborhood like wildfire. That was how it worked, and yet she hadn’t even given it a thought that the family had moved in the night and the elderly gentleman had moved in the next day. She sighed out loud, letting him know she was aware of screwing up. “No, they hadn’t told anyone.
    There was no gossip. I heard them leave, of course. I heard everything. A truck came, and men I assumed were friends loaded the furniture onto the truck.”
    “Had you ever seen the friends before?”
    “No. And now that I’m thinking about it, I didn’t see any of the family the entire day prior to the move. Not even their son, and he always was in the street with the other boys in the neighborhood. I can’t believe I just walked right into their trap.”
    “Whitney plays games, Rose. He loves to play his games.”
    “I don’t understand.” There were tears in her voice, burning her eyes, clogging her throat. She was so damned tired. She didn’t want to appear weak to him—he already thought she didn’t have a brain in her head and she was out of shape—but the thought of Whitney stil orchestrating