At the door he paused and looked back at her. She seemed so small and lost and alone. “I’ll be back in a few minutes to tuck you in.”
That bought him a ghost of a smile. “I’m not three.”
“I know. I’m not doing it for you.” He turned and walked away from the sight of her.
She was enough to break any man’s heart. For one moment he wished he was the hero type, the white knight charging in to save her, but he was a man, awkward in the presence of women, and he’d already made a few blunders. He washed the few dishes and went back into the pantry to look at the birthing kit—just in case.
He was a man who believed in preparing for emergencies. Having babies fell under that category. Beside the kit she’d put together were several books, and because he was reluctant to open the sealed plastic container and look at the contents, he browsed through the books. The titles told him a lot about Rose. She planned well for things.
One book was on natural childbirth, another focused on nutrition for the pregnant woman. Both books had been read many times. The pages were worn and dog-eared. Another book on parenting caught his attention. He flipped through it and found many passages underlined. There were notes in the margin Rose had made to herself, multiple reminders to find other titles on various subjects. Like Kane, Rose could kill a man with her bare hands without blinking, but diapering a baby was out of their realm of expertise.
He closed the book slowly, the revelation hitting him hard. She had to be every bit as scared as he was over the birth of their child. She had no more experience than he did. Just because she was a woman didn’t mean that she understood any of this. She’d never had parents to give her a blueprint. Neither of them had the least idea of what they were doing, but at least Rose was trying. She was determined that their child would have the chance in life she never had—to grow up in a loving home.
Kane had grown up on the streets. He didn’t know any more about parenting than Rose did, but he had a family. His team were all members of that family, GhostWalkers every one of them, intensely loyal to one another. They would extend that same loyalty to Rose and his child.
His child. He sank into a chair a bit overwhelmed by the idea. He’d searched for Rose for months because he was tied up in knots with wanting her, but he hadn’t honestly thought too much about what it would mean if she was truly pregnant. His child. Their child together. They had created life. Both had DNA that wasn’t altogether human, and both had psychic gifts. What would that mean for their child? Rose hadn’t had the benefit of doctors for prenatal care. He rubbed his temples.
A child was a huge responsibility. Did he want that? Hell yes. The moment he fit his palm over Rose’s belly, swollen with his child, the baby had rocked his world. That little flutter pressing hard against his hand to let him know there was life there, a life they’d created together, had found its way into his heart. He was solidly with Rose—Whitney was not getting their son.
He padded silently back into the bedroom, the birthing book in his hand. Rose looked at him, her expression drowsy—and sexy. He nearly groaned aloud. Was it perverted to find her incredibly sexy in her present physical condition? He should have brought the other book, the one about how her body changed during pregnancy. It had advice for husbands. He liked the way the word fit. Husband. Yeah. He could do that—with Rose.
“I just came in to say good night,” he offered, keeping his tone low.
“I’m glad you did. I wanted to say I’m glad you’re here. You can sleep here. It isn’t as if we haven’t shared a bed,” she added. “There’s plenty of room.”
He wasn’t getting in a bed with her. What was she thinking? His body was already doing enough raging at him. “I think it’s best to keep a lookout.” They wouldn’t be coming until the following night, he was fairly certain, but he wasn’t taking any chances. He wasn’t going to sleep and leave her vulnerable. “I think I’ll catch up on my reading.”
She flashed a small smile. “Good choice there. But I really don’t mind about the bed if you change your mind.”
“Thanks. If I get too tired, I’ll keep that in mind.” He turned to leave.
“Don’t go. Not until I fall asleep. I feel ... safer with you in the room.”
“The lamp won’t bother you?”
She closed her eyes, settling against the pillow. Kane walked silently across the room and pulled the comforter closer to her chin, knowing he was using the gesture as an excuse to touch her again. Her skin was soft beyond his memories, and her hair against the pillow looked like a fall of blue black silk. Her lashes were long and feathery, as midnight black as her hair. He felt at peace when he looked at her, which, considering the state of arousal she put his body in, was strange. His whole being settled in her presence.
Asleep, she looked younger than ever and terribly innocent. She didn’t belong in a world of violence. He’d told her to rest, that they would be safe, but he knew better. If Whitney was truly playing one of his games, it wasn’t going to be so damned easy. He’d be sending someone to see if Rose had taken the bait and was in residence. That meant they were going to have a visitor soon. With a soft sigh, he ran his thumb down her soft cheek and then settled into a chair and began reading.
Chapter 5
“Think cold-blooded snake,” Kane whispered aloud to himself as he stretched out in the saw grass up at the high point of the knoll, his ghillie suit covering his body. He could pick up the heat in an enemy’s body, and there were many other GhostWalkers capable of the same thing. Rose had slept most of the day, waking only to eat soup or drink water. He loved that she was actually resting. She looked so worn out, and the fact that she could actually sleep meant she trusted him to look after her. That was the best feeling in the world. Lying in plain sight wasn’t.
Diego Jimenez had chosen his hideout carefully. Open ground gave him a view of anyone coming at him from any direction. It would take vehicles capable of moving fast through sand to reach him, and he’d see and hear them coming miles before they ever arrived, but he hadn’t counted on GhostWalkers. Kane had the elite teams to worry about.
Whitney may have gone underground, but he had billions of dollars at his disposal and connections all the way to the White House. Thousands of men in the military had taken the psychic tests, but only a few qualified psychologically. Whitney had nevertheless experimented on some of those not completely qualified for his own personal army. Those men had disappeared from the service and were now working covertly for Whitney. Those were the men Kane expected.