Lily shook her head and remained silent. Ryland kept his hand on her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her. She knew they would have to kill her father. His experiments would never stop until Whitney was dead. She was finally accepting that there was no real way to save him, and Ryland wanted to spare her the inevitable grief.
Ken felt sorry for Ryland. Ken wasn’t married to Mari. Mari wasn’t carrying his child. He hadn’t even had time to get to know her, yet he felt protective. Ken hadn’t known he had protective genes in his makeup, or even tenderness. He hadn’t known lust could be so sharp and urgent and intense. That it could crawl inside a man and eat him from the inside out. He hadn’t known lust could be wrapped up in dark emotions, black jealousy and obsession, the need to control and dominate. He hadn’t known softer emotions could cut through everything dark and ugly inside of him and make him want to be a better man—make him need to be better so that he was worthy of one woman—the only woman.
Ryland had found those things with Lily, and Jack had managed to discover them with Briony. Ken might want to be a better man, but he wasn’t certain he was strong enough to overcome his darker tendencies. Mari wasn’t a submissive woman like her sister. She didn’t have a soft, sweet nature, willing to compromise and soothe Ken’s rougher side. Mari would fight his dominant nature, wanting freedom and control, and he would never be able to concede. The more she fought him, the worse he would get, until he would be like his father, a monster without equal, until their fights were real and it became a clash of wills to see who would win.
Not if you fall in love with her, Ken. Jack’s telepathic voice interrupted his thoughts. You haven’t figured that into the equation. Briony didn’t exactly change me, but she brought out the best in me.
And if there is no best? Ken glanced down at the pale face lying so still beside him. She looked too young for a man like him. It was different when she opened her eyes, and he saw her too-old eyes—where he read the same edgy hunger and need. Then he could imagine himself with her, even if it was only briefly, but not like this, not when she was so small and fragile-looking.
Then the old man won after all, Jack replied harshly. And you let him.
Fuck you, Jack.
Right back at you. You’ve never walked away from a fight in your life. This is the biggest, most important battle you’ll ever have. You’re going to leave her to Brett? Or Sean? Hell, if you do, Ken, you don’t deserve her and you’re not man enough to have her. She needs someone who will stand up for her.
Shut the f**k up.
You only swear when you know you’re full of shit.
Ken glared at his brother. You walked away from Briony.
The first time, yes. I wasn’t strong enough to give her up the second time, and I had to learn more about myself than I ever wanted to know, and that was a good thing, Ken, because I learned I could control the things that would hurt Briony. I don’t want to see her disappointed or hurt by something I say or do.
And if you couldn’t control it?
How do you know if you don’t try?
Ken’s eyes glittered with menace. I know I don’t want to take a chance with her life. You saw me acting like an animal. The things I want to do to her scare the hell out of me. If I end up hurting her, don’t you think that’s a win for the old man?
You would never hurt her. I know you better than you know yourself. Jack suddenly turned his attention to Lily. “What do you know about post-traumatic stress, Lily? Can a child suffer a trauma that would cause the symptoms? What about years of tracking and killing enemies? And torture, Lily, would that bring out the symptoms?”
Logan and Ryland glanced at Ken’s face, the gridiron mask of scars disappearing into the neckline of his shirt. For the first time in his life, Ken felt color rising and was utterly aware of his patchwork skin. He looked like a freak show, sewn together to keep his body from falling apart. “Go to hell, Jack.” His tone dropped to a low caress, a growling purr of warning.
“Of course a child can suffer trauma,” Lily said. “Posttraumatic stress disorder is very common in men who go into life-and-death situations. It’s usual to have nightmares and not be able to sleep. Often someone experiencing PTSD has feelings of detachment and a belief that they have no future.”
“I don’t want to hear this,” Ken said.
“I do,” Jack persisted, keeping a wary eye on his brother.
Lily took a deep breath and continued. “They can easily become irate and have outbursts of seemingly irrational anger. They might become increasingly vigilant and can become paranoid that a loved one may be in danger, so their reaction is intense to the extreme.”
“This is bullshit, Jack,” Ken warned. Anger swirled close to the surface, threatening to break through the icy calm he presented to the others in the room. If you’re spoiling for a fight, I’ll oblige, but not here, not around the women, he added.
Are you listening to either Lily or yourself? You hardly ever sleep. You have nightmares all the time. You pace half the night.
So do you.
Not anymore. Briony is there now.
Yeah, Jack, thanks for the vision. I don’t want to hear any more. Leave me the hell alone.
Beside him, Mari stirred, her hand sliding across the bed until she found his arm.
You okay? Cuz I’m a little sore here. I feel like someone beat the holy hell out of my chest, but if you need backup, I’m all over it.
Her voice was soft and carried a tinge of humor and even more determination. His heart did that curious overheating-and-melting-into-a-puddle thing he was beginning to recognize only Mari managed to induce in him.
Shh, honey. Go back to sleep. Everything is fine.
Was I asleep? I thought I was dead, but then I thought maybe you needed me so I came back to you. Her thoughts were completely unguarded, entirely open to him when she reached out to make the connection. I think you need me, Ken. I’ve never actually thought about being needed, or having a home.
Did she sound wistful? Ken only knew he wished they were alone together. Go to sleep, Mari. I’ll be right here.
Don’t beat the crap out of your brother. My sister wouldn’t like it, and then I’d have to stick up for you and we’d get into a big thing and it would all turn ugly.
The tension eased in his belly and shoulders. The pounding around his temples lessened. We wouldn’t want that. I’ll let it go this time, but he’s being a bit of a bastard. Jack can be like that sometimes.