Telepathy could be quiet. Jack and Ken had been using it since they were toddlers, and they could send easily to each other without a lot of energy spilling over to give them away. The GhostWalkers trained in sending precise waves when communicating, because anyone familiar with the strange buzzing and head pounding recognized it for what it was, but it wasn’t an easy talent to master. Right now it didn’t appear as if Mari’s GhostWalker team cared one way or the other that anyone else might hear them. They were frantic to find her and being loud about calling her.
Her team wanted her back. Ken understood the creed of the GhostWalkers. They never left a man behind. If one was captured, they kept coming for him—or her. But he couldn’t help wonder if Brett or Sean were leading the rescue mission and if it was entirely personal. The team had been pressing them hard for two days, and they were definitely following Nico’s flight plans, filed with only a high security clearance access.
He swore softly to himself. There seemed to be no controlling jealousy. He had never allowed himself to care about anything or anyone other than Jack, so it had never come up. When Briony had entered their lives and Jack had fallen so hard for her, Ken had only worried about Jack losing the one good thing that had ever happened to him.
Ken touched Mari’s face, tracing her bone structure, imprinting it forever on his mind and into his skin and organs. He wanted her for himself. It was unexpected and shocking to him, even frightening, that he could want something so much, but he did. She was there. Inside of him. All the while she talked, he watched every expression, every gesture, and he had rested his palm on her body, absorbing what he could of her nature and character. It wasn’t one of his strongest gifts, but he caught impressions of her life, stark, sterile, and often unpleasant. She was the kind of woman he would have been drawn to without Whitney’s interference.
She was strong and opinionated, not easily intimidated. She was beautiful. He knew she wouldn’t think so; women never did. They always wanted to be thinner, or have a different hair color, or be taller or shorter, but he’d been the one to undress her, and her body was perfect for him. He wanted her with an almost savage, primitive need, and now that she’d awakened his cock, that too, had become a monster, raging for attention.
He’d always had tremendous stamina, a strong sex drive, and now that it was back, and he knew she was na**d and receptive, it bordered on obsession. And what would it take to satisfy him? To stimulate him? He was fairly certain it would take a lot to stimulate him to orgasm, and a woman who had endured the kind of things Mari had would want no part of rough sex. He swore under his breath and turned away from her.
What the hell was he thinking? He couldn’t have her. He couldn’t think with his dick; he had to think with his brain—and he couldn’t have her. It was that simple. He couldn’t think about the way her eyes lit up when she smiled, or the sexy curve of her lips and how she would look . . . He groaned softly and rubbed the front of his jeans, swearing again when he had to use a hard pressure to even feel the wave of pleasure that edged far too close to pain.
“They’re two minutes out, Ken.”
Jack’s voice startled him, never a good sign when he had to be alert. It had just been so long since he’d felt sexual pleasure, and being close to her, feeling his body harden and fill with pounding need was a miracle—and a curse—he hadn’t expected.
“Are you certain she’s unconscious? We can’t chance her warning anyone. If they don’t follow Nico, we can’t get her to Lily’s. And you and I both know Whitney has something else up his sleeve that insures she’ll go home. I want Lily to check her over thoroughly before she ever gets near Briony.”
“She’s out. We cut that one a little too close. They were an hour behind us. Nico could be in trouble.” The buzzing in his head was fading, indicating that the team was moving away from them.
“We wanted them to think they were gaining on us. They had to follow him. Nico knows what he’s doing. Logan will be here any minute, Ken. I need to ask you . . .”
“Don’t. I tried to tell you and now it’s too late.”
“We have to talk about it. I had to face it when Briony came to me asking for shelter. There was every possibility our father lived inside of me.”
“There was never that possibility. We made a pact, Jack, that we’d never get close enough to a woman to fall in love, but I always knew you would be fine if it happened.”
“How? I didn’t know. I feel nothing at all when I take the shot, Ken, you know that. I didn’t feel remorse when I killed our father.”
“When you finished what I started,” Ken reminded. “Mom was already dead when I walked in on him. I should have run, but all I could think about was killing him.” He could still remember in vivid detail tearing the baseball bat from his father’s grip and swinging it hard. There was absolute pleasure when the bat connected with a satisfying crack and his father screamed. For the first time in his life, Ken had felt powerful and in control. He wasn’t even a teenager, and yet he’d planned his father’s death a million times, and when he’d found his father with his mother’s blood all over him, something cold and ugly, vicious and merciless, had sprung to life and taken hold.
“You think I didn’t have those same feelings, Ken? He made our lives a living hell. He beat the crap out of us, out of Mom; he ridiculed and embarrassed us. He wanted us dead, and he punished her every day of her life for loving us. Of course you wanted him dead. That has nothing to do with her.” Jack stepped closer, gesturing toward Mari.
“It has everything to do with her and you know it.” Ken was too ashamed to admit his feelings to his brother, the one person he loved and respected the most in the world. It was bad enough that he knew his own fatal flaw, that he had to stare into the mirror every day and see his father looking back at him, but he sure as hell didn’t want Jack to see what he did. “I would feel like that, not wanting to share her with anyone. I’m not taking the chance that we might have children and I’d lose my mind completely. When I heard about Brett . . .” He could hardly say the name and a wealth of disgust and anger was in his voice. “I should have been thinking what she went through, but all I could think about was that he’d touched her, been inside her, that I wanted him dead.”
“I had the impression she despised him. If he forced her, he deserves to die. Hell, I’d want to kill him.”