Carlson actually sounded like he was worried about Rose. Kane frowned, not wanting to relate to the man at all. It was difficult not to think about what would have happened if Kane had been in his shoes. Would he have managed to walk away from Rose knowing she was with another man? He hoped so. He hoped he was man enough to want her happy and that if she really chose someone else, he would abide by her decision. His heart hammered in his chest at the thought. Worse, everything male in him rose up to fight against the idea. If nothing else, this was a lesson in the havoc and devastation Whitney created. The man ruined lives and never thought twice about it.
Are you all right?
Rose’s voice was soft and hesitant. They’d agreed not to use telepathy with the soldiers so close. They might feel the disturbance in the energy waves around them. He must have been projecting distress for her to reach out to him in spite of their edict.
He kept his eyes on both soldiers, assessing their level of sensitivity. Fargo rubbed his eyes and Carlson frowned, but neither seemed at all suspicious. Kane had noticed before that neither appeared to have much in the way of psychic talent; now it was truly evident. He pressed his head into his palm, swearing to himself.
Whitney had requested Kane because he wanted the level of psychic gifts that Kane had been born with. Yes, Whitney had enhanced his skills, but he had scored quite high on the psychic tests. Neither of these men could have, or they would have sensed that someone other than Rose was in the house. Kane would have known. Whitney had taken the men who had barely managed to make it into the program. Most of them had flunked the psych evals as well.
Whitney didn’t want to pair them with his precious women. He simply didn’t have that many women who could be bred to produce a supersoldier, but he knew the women inside and out. He’d had them in his laboratory from the time they were infants. He had dangled Kane in front of Rose like a carrot, knowing exactly the kind of man who would appeal to her.
And Kane? Hell. He’d made it so damned easy. He had the knight-in-shining-armor complex—even his friends said so. He was a rescuer. Of course he would have agreed to do anything for Rose, once he’d learned of her plight. He’d never let a brute like Carlson force her to have sex with him. He’d been duped as well. If anyone thought Whitney wasn’t a true master of human study, Kane was going to testify to the truth of it all. Whitney had amazing, if not psychic, insight into the nature of people.
Kane. Now Rose’s voice trembled. I’m coming out.
Stay put, honey. He should have known better than to take so long. Rose would back him up no matter the danger. Just watching them for reactions. Strange, neither seems to feel the pressure building around them.
It was difficult to describe the exact feeling when other GhostWalkers were close or using telepathy. The pressure on their minds built rapidly, pressing into them to varying degrees, depending on the sensitivity level, sometimes as strong as a vise. It was odd to him that these men didn’t feel his presence. Each night he’d moved a little closer, and still they didn’t appear to know he was there. Several times he used his abilities to move air and that should have changed pressure in their minds, and yet neither noticed.
Rose was nothing if not quick. She realized the implications immediately. He felt the impact of the blow as comprehension dawned. She seemed stunned, so shocked for a brief moment her mind was blank, and then guilt washed over her because they were sharing the same conclusion about Whitney.
I’m sorry, Kane. I played right into his hands, didn’t I? I brought you into this, and if I hadn’t fallen into his trap, you would never . . .
Stop it! Just stop, Rose. I walked into this with my eyes open. I don’t have regrets other than that our first time together had to be a nightmare for you. Leave it alone.
He wished he was back inside to hold her. Rose had no preparation for a life outside of the military, yet she had succeeded in hiding herself and staying one step ahead of Whitney during her pregnancy. She had had no one all that time on the run to wrap their arms around her and comfort her, and he had wanted to be with her. He pushed a caress into his voice, the only thing he had to give her, separated as they were by the distance. I wouldn’t trade what we have for anything else. I don’t lie, Rose. If you don’t know anything else about me, know that.
Thank you.
She was weeping. Damn Whitney and his pitiful games. Rose deserved to be loved, and if she had nothing else in her life, if he could only provide that and little else, he vowed to himself that her world would be filled with love.
I’ll be there in a few minutes, sweetheart. Not that he was all that much comfort to her—yet.
He had grown up on the streets, but he’d had Mack and Jaimie and the others as a family. They’d banded together, and Mack’s mother watched over them all as best she could. He’d learned trust and loyalty growing up that way. Who had taught those things to Rose? Her childhood had been one of discipline and duty. She’d learned to endure, but she was determined to give their baby something she’d never had—a loving parent. He was just as determined that he would be right beside her.
Fargo picked up the empty bottle and stared at it morosely. “Swear to me that if I go into town after our little senorita and some supplies, you won’t go near the woman.”
Carlson glared at him. “She’s my woman, not just any woman. But no, I’m not about to screw up. Just bring us someone who can take a lot of heat. I like it rough.”
“It’s not like we’re giving her back,” Fargo said. “She’ll take it any way we want to give it to her.”
Carlson glanced at his watch. “Rose will be sitting outside in another twenty minutes, and after that we’ll report to Whitney. You can go when he shuts down for the night. You’ll have plenty of time to get what we want and be back here before anyone is the wiser.”
Fargo stood up, stretching. He tucked his knife into his belt and kicked at the empty bottle. “A woman sure beats chasing those coyotes with homemade arrows.”
Carlson smirked. “True, if she fights some. Coyotes sure do scream if you hit them in the right place. And they can take a long time to die.”
“You’re such a sick bastard, Carlson. That’s what I like about you.” Fargo stumbled away from the camp.
The smile faded from Carlson’s face, and he looked again toward the hidden house in the desert—and Rose. Kane didn’t like the look on his face, a dark promise of retribution.