Jess could sense the panic in her, the confusion and reluctance. He sighed and let it go. “We’ll drop it for now. Just make me a promise; give me your word of honor you won’t ever try to leave without discussing it first with me.”
“You won’t discuss it,” she said in frustration. “You’ll stop me.”
“Promise me.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Saber.” He tapped her chin with his index finger.
“Oh, all right. I promise,” she gave in with bad grace. “I’m hungry. I didn’t have breakfast, lunch, or anything else in between. Are you going to feed me or what?”
Jess would take his small victory. Backing off, giving her space, seemed the lesser of two evils. Saber’s mood swings were mercurial. He could easily read her rising panic. He needed to soothe her, alleviate her fears. She was desperately hiding the truth from him, but it didn’t matter, because he already knew she had to be one of Peter Whitney’s experiments.
Whitney had taken girls from orphanages around the world, kept them locked up, and performed psychic and genetic experiments on them long before he had done the same to grown servicemen. He’d given them the names of flowers and of seasons-Winter. She used the name Saber Wynter. Winter was more than likely what Whitney had called her.
He had entered the GhostWalker program of his own free will. And he’d known when he’d made the decision to enhance his psychic abilities that he would remain government property for the rest of his life. Wheelchair or not, he was still a powerful and dangerous weapon. No one was going to just forget about him and let him live his life out in peace. He had agreed to the bionics experiment partly for that reason.
Okay. He’d agreed to it because he missed the action of combat. Riding a desk just wasn’t his thing and never would be. But then along came Saber and he suddenly wasn’t thinking about saving the world anymore. Settling down seemed much more appealing, and she’d been with him long enough now that he couldn’t imagine his life without her. But he’d made the choice as a grown man. Whitney had taken these girls, these infants, and instead of giving them a decent home, he’d made them into science projects.
He felt the hot surge of anger and deliberately forced it down. “You’re closest to the picnic basket, angel face,” he said very gently. “Pass me a sandwich.”
Saber, grateful for the change of subject, dug into the wicker basket. “Cream cheese?”
“That’s yours. I get ham,” he said.
The color was slowly coming back into Saber’s flawless skin, the tension easing out of her. She avoided touching him when she handed him his sandwich. He let her get away with it. “Drink, woman,” he commanded. “Where’s my drink?”
Saber handed him a mug of hot chocolate. “Tell me about Chaleen.”
He nearly choked. “Why would you want to know about her?”
Because she was still hanging around and Saber didn’t trust her for a moment. But she didn’t mind playing the jealous woman if it got her what she wanted. “She’s after you. I think that was made pretty plain. She gave me the look women reserve for competition. So tell me about her.”
“If you want to know about Chaleen, I’ll tell you, although there’s really not all that much to tell.” Because he had to be careful.
She could tell he was reluctant. “You don’t have to.” She tilted her head. “But I did overhear part of your conversation and it sounded as if she was warning you about an investigation you’re conducting.” She held up her hand when his piercing eyes went flat and cold. “I’m not fishing for details, but I think she’s a lot more than she wants you to know. She’s coming off as your friend warning you, but I could feel…”
She had a million secrets she couldn’t tell him, so it seemed unfair that he would have to reveal something obviously private to her-but she did want to know. She needed to know, because Chaleen was a dangerous woman, and she had to figure out just how dangerous she was to Jess.
Jess shrugged. “I met her skiing in Germany. It seemed innocent enough and she was beautiful and intelligent and loved doing all the things I did. She seemed perfect. Of course she was too perfect and I should have seen that, but I was too wrapped up in the sex to be thinking I might have been set up.”
Saber winced. Sex. She didn’t want to think about him ha**ng s*x with perfect Chaleen, but she’d asked for this. She bit her lip hard to keep from interrupting.
Jess leaned back, pressing his head against the wide base of the tree. “It was so stupid, really. I knew better. I wasn’t some dumb kid. She began asking me questions about my work. Nothing big, nothing to raise alarms, but still, it should have. I just took it that she was interested, and believe it or not, I actually felt guilty that I couldn’t tell her anything.”
Saber drew up her knees and rested her chin on them. She could see clever Chaleen manipulating a man into feeling guilty.
“At least at first I felt guilty. Somewhere along the line I realized she really didn’t like all the things she pretended interest in. She was only acting.”
Chaleen had probably studied him, found out his every interest, and become the person he would be attracted to before she’d moved in on him. Chaleen-black widow spider. Saber twisted her fingers together, already afraid for him. If the woman had come back, she’d come for a reason.
“An assignment went bad. I was taken prisoner, and tortured. I’d been shot in both legs so they smashed what was left of my lower legs to try and break me. They wanted me to give up a colleague.” He looked at her, wanting her to know what kind of man he was. “I didn’t.”
She rubbed her palm over his thigh in silent sympathy.
He still felt it sometimes, those blows landing on the raw gaping wounds, felt the bones shattering inside his skin. His stomach knotted and for one moment bile rose. He fought it down. “I stared at the ceiling for three straight weeks after they brought me to the hospital. Just stared at it, without seeing or speaking.”
Instantly her eyes clouded and she caught his hand in both of hers. “Oh, Jesse, how terrible for you. I didn’t mean for you to relive a horrible memory.” She knelt close to him. “I’m sorry, so sorry I brought this up.”
His hand shaped her face, caressed her soft skin, traced her delicate cheekbones. “Don’t be sorry. I wanted to tell you or I wouldn’t have.”