Conspiracy Game

something more. And she didn’t feel his emotions. The realization stunned her. In her entire life, even with her own family, she’d been burdened with the overwhelming feelings of others. For a moment, she was so shocked her brain refused to process the information. She stayed very still, trying to reason it out, ignoring the persistent whisper in her ear.

The tip of the knife touched her skin and Briony jumped. “You do that again and I’m not going to be so nice,” she hissed. Could she take him? He was stronger than any man she’d ever trained with. She felt the power running through him, felt the difference in him-the same difference she’d always known was in her. Again she forced herself to relax. No one was like her-not even her family. How did she know he was?

“Who are you?” she asked, knowing he wasn’t going to answer. Military for certain. Maybe a mercenary.

“What the hell is a GhostWalker doing here? You don’t answer me in five seconds, I’m going to start slicing off body parts.”

“I don’t know what a GhostWalker is. I’m performing at the music festival. I do aerial stunts with my brothers, the Flying Five. I’m one of the five.”

There was a small silence. “Why the hell would a circus performer be at a music festival?”

“You tell me,” Briony said. “I haven’t figured it out yet, but they paid my brothers and me big bucks to come here.” He hadn’t relaxed his guard even for a moment.

Her captor swore, the words viciously ugly. “I saw you go up that tree and change your skin color to blend into your surroundings. Don’t lie again. No one can do that but a GhostWalker. No one.”

Briony wanted to know everything he knew about the GhostWalkers. If they could do the things she could do, was she related in some way? She felt him stiffen, arms tightening. His lips pressed against her ear. “Don’t make a sound.”

She inhaled and at once knew the soldiers were doubling back. Fear shot through her. She knew what happened to women caught out on their own.

“Can you hold your breath? Are you trained?”

She knew what he meant and she nodded.

“How long?” He demanded tersely.

“Twenty minutes if I’m careful.” She didn’t lie, and wanted to see if he was shocked. As a child she’d been forced to stay under longer and longer periods of time. She’d thought everyone did it, until once, at the dinner table, when she was bragging to her brothers and they were making fun of her for lying, she saw her mother’s mouth tighten with disapproval and she’d never mentioned it again-to anyone.

“You’re going under with me.”

It wasn’t a question, and he was already exerting pressure on her, taking her into the water, not making a sound as they slowly submerged, as if he took it for granted that anyone could stay under that long without breathing equipment. The knife never wavered and neither did the arm locked around her neck. He gave her plenty of time to take a breath, and she did so, drawing air into her lungs as they crouched down in a small section of the stream covered with reeds.

Briony dug her fingers into his arm, holding on, trying to conquer fear. She felt sometimes that she’d spent most of her life trying to hide that she was frightened. She had always been afraid, and after a while, it was simply a way of life. She was afraid of everything, and sometimes it disgusted her that she could never quite overcome those shadows dwelling so deep inside of her. She forced herself to be still, not wanting her captor to be aware of how very frightened of him she really was.

Part of her was excited, wondering, in spite of the danger, whether he could do the things she could do. And if he could-what did that mean?

Jack could feel the small tremor continually running through the body of the young woman he held so tight against him. She was small, hardly more than a girl, but she felt like a woman-had smelled like a woman, all soft curves and fresh scent. She was terrified, but hiding it well and that made no sense if she were a GhostWalker. She would be highly skilled in martial arts, in hand-to-hand combat, in weapons of every kind. She should have complete confidence in her abilities. She was without a doubt physically enhanced and, he suspected, psychically as well. She breathed under water the way they’d all been taught, one small release of air at a time.

Jack found himself all too aware of the woman in his arms. He had been from the moment he touched her. Every single detail seemed imprinted in his mind. On his body. The shape and texture of her. The brush of her silky hair against his face when he’d first locked his arm around her throat. The pads of her fingers pressing deep into his arm as they crouched together beneath the water. Nothing like that had ever happened to him before. It never mattered whether his opposition was a man or a woman; it was a job. He did whatever it took to complete the job. She was no object; she was a woman. He couldn’t get the feel or scent of her out of his mind, even now, under water, as if somehow her body had melted into his skin and imprinted on his bones.

The soldiers spent time beneath the tree, talking in whispers. Jack knew they were hunting him. A minute. Two. Three turned into five. Five into ten. The soldiers remained, crouching by the stream, drawing a map in the damp earth. Fifteen minutes went by. Jack slowed his breath even more.

The woman’s fingers dug deeper into his arm. The tension went up noticeably, and he felt her rising terror of drowning, but remarkably, she held still. The minutes continued and he expected panic, was prepared for it, but she held her ground, forcing the slow release of air to allow her to stay beneath the water. She’d been trained, all right, but she was losing air and needed to surface. Her terror was in his mind-swamping him-tasting bitter in his mouth.

Jack tried to ignore her fears, but the empathy between them was too strong and gave him no choice. He caught her head in his hand and turned her face to his, leaning forward until his lips feathered over hers. It was a mistake. He felt that feather light touch all the way through his body, a wild slam of his heart, a tightening of his groin, something deeper shifting and moving inside of him. He breathed into her mouth, so that he was literally the air she breathed, so that she took him deep into her body where he belonged.

Where the hell had that thought come from? He swore he not only felt an electric current sizzling through his veins, he felt possessive-and he was a man who never had strong sexual or emotional reactions in a relationship with a woman-he never allowed it. He avoided attachments, yet every cell in his body-in his brain-urged him to pull her closer, to take possession of her. He stared directly into her eyes, enormous with fear but determined not to give them away. How could anyone have so much fear and yet remain so utterly still, so aware of the danger surrounding her? It took courage and discipline to be able to breathe under water when self- preservation urged you to surface.

He curled his arm around her waist, anchoring her, trying to give her some reassurance that they wouldn’t drown or be attacked. It’s all right, baby. He whispered the words in his mind, trying to think of something to do that would indicate he wouldn’t force her to stay under if they ran out of air. He could fight if he had to, although he was in bad shape and he didn’t want to risk gunfire. The sound would carry in the night. He didn’t want to bring the general’s army down on them. I’m not going to let you die here. What did men say to women to ease their fears? Hell, he didn’t know. He was way out of his field of expertise.

Jack became aware of her utter stillness. Her eyes had widened and she stared at him as if he’d grown two heads. There was no faking the shock on her face. Whatever this woman was, she was not a member of the psychic teams he’d trained with. She heard him. She was every bit as strong a telepath as he was. You can hear me. He made it a statement.

One of the soldiers waded into the stream, turning Jack’s attention back to the danger. The situation was critical. Breathing for both of them, he was running out of air, and the soldier was almost on top of the woman. Don’t move. He put as much force into his voice as he could, the command absolute. This time he framed her face with his hands and leaned down to take her mouth, pushing the air into her lungs. You understand?

Damn. He couldn’t control his accelerated heartbeat or the strange flutter in his belly-but it had nothing to do with fear of the soldiers and everything to do with the peculiar woman. She nodded slightly.

Keep your eyes closed until I come back for you.

Her fear nearly took her into panic, he could see it in her eyes, but her mouth firmed and she nodded again, the long lashes coming down, eyes squeezing closed tight. Jack didn’t wait, couldn’t wait. The second soldier was in the water and the first was about to trip over the woman’s leg. He caught both ankles and yanked hard, dragging the man under, burying the knife in his throat, and rising almost at the second soldier’s feet, cutting thighs, belly, jugular, and throat so that he too dropped away, leaving Jack to face the third man. He reversed the knife and