Spider Game Page 36

  It's her voice, Wyatt said thoughtfully. It's overriding the senator's voice and Smythe is aware of it. She doesn't like being upstaged.

  She needs money for the campaign. Money and allies. I see why she's so popular now. She doesn't have to work that hard, just send out the right notes and supporters flock to her. What the hell does she need us for? Trap said, drawing Cayenne closer.

  She put one hand on her belly. He felt the heat instantly. When he looked down at her, she had a question in her eyes.

  "Nothing, baby," he assured. "You're just getting a lot of attention. I'm going to have the boys move in a little for protection."

  "I don't need protection," she said, narrowing her eyes at him. "I thought we had this discussion and you understood."

  He grinned at her. "Not for your protection, babe. These men keep leering at you and then heading for the bathroom to jack off, I'm going to have to kill a few of them just to keep from having nightmares."

  She rolled her eyes at him. "The senator has her sights set on you, Trap. Stop distracting me. I'm the only one capable of protecting you from her. Look at her fingernails. Bloodred. Sharp. She could kill with those daggers."

  Cayenne was serious. Trap flicked a glance toward Violet. She was making her way across the room toward them.

  "Let's dance, Cayenne," Trap said, sweeping his arm around her and moving her away from the tables toward the dance floor, his back to Violet.

  What the hell are you doing, Trap? Joe demanded. Isn't the point to talk to the woman and figure out what the hell she wants?

  I can't make it easy, Trap said. I have a certain reputation. If I make it easy, she'll be suspicious. I can't go to her. She has to come to me.

  And what if she decides you aren't worth it? Joe asked, sarcasm dripping.

  I am worth it, Trap said matter-of-factly. He knew he sounded arrogant, but the fact was, he was one of the most intelligent human beings in the world. There was no disputing that fact. If Violet meant what she said about bringing all the top minds together for one goal, he was the top mind. She needed him. She's in league with Whitney. We know that. He has been working on cancer research for a while now. She knows I have. My guess is, she'll give us access to Whitney's research without the references to the experiments using children.

  Trap pulled Cayenne into his arms, held her body close to his. He loved the feel of her against him. Her arms slid up his chest to his neck. He leaned down. It was well worth the backache to hold her so close and move their bodies to the music. He could shut out the reason for being there. Shut out the scent of men's arousals as they danced close to be near Cayenne's swaying body. He let her scent drown out the testosterone in the air. That exotic, potent fragrance unique to her.

  His team would watch his back. He had gone into battle with them countless times. They wouldn't let him down any more than he would them. For just those few minutes, he let himself drift on a tide of need, of hunger, of heat and sin. Holding her close. She moved like an angel or a temptress, her body, in that silken gown, sliding over his senses like the finest of wines.

  The song ended, and Trap transferred his hold to Cayenne's hand to lead her off the dance floor. Violet wasn't taking any chances. She was right there on the edge, smiling directly at him. Making it clear she was waiting for him. He was known for his rudeness, but it was her invitation and he'd accepted it. He sauntered over to her, keeping Cayenne in close.

  "Thank you for coming, Dr. Dawkins," Violet said. "Or do you prefer to go by Johansson?"

  Her little warning didn't throw him. He felt Cayenne press her hand deeper into his side, but she kept her smile.

  "I haven't used Johansson since my father murdered my family," Trap said easily. "I adopted the name Dawkins."

  "Of course. So much paperwork to get through on everyone. Forgive me." Violet used her voice. It was subtle. Very subtle, but he felt the stream of compulsion on the edges of his mind. "And this is your wife? Cayenne, isn't it? An unusual name."

  "As you know, like you, I'm one of Whitney's orphans," Cayenne said. "Perhaps, Violet, we can dispense with the games."

  She used her own voice, and Trap had to admit the compulsion was stronger. He felt the energy crackling between the two women. Violet shook her head several times to rid herself of the suggestion Cayenne had planted.

  "Perhaps we should go somewhere private," Trap suggested. "You bring a couple of your security people if you need to feel safe."

  "Why wouldn't I be safe?" Violet asked. "You're hardly going to assassinate a U.S. senator and running mate for the presidency."

  "You haven't actually gotten that yet," Trap pointed out. "Isn't all of this to raise money?" He leaned close, his gaze sweeping with contempt down her body and then back up to stare straight into her eyes. "Isn't Whitney backing you?" His voice implied all sorts of things, mostly that she was sleeping with a monster for his money.

  Her lashes swept down and then back up. "Follow me. You and Dr. Fontenot."

  "Cayenne comes with me."

  It was her turn to give him a contemptuous look. "You have to have a security blanket?"

  "I have to make certain you aren't making another attempt to kill her." It was a shot in the dark, but he took it.

  Violet stepped back, one hand moving defensively to her throat. "Why in the world would I do that?"

  What are you doing, Trap? Joe demanded. Whitney ordered the hit, not Violet.

  Violet? Trap echoed. Not Violet? None of them called her that. Not when discussing her. Not ever, unless they were addressing her and thought it would irritate her not to be called Senator Smythe.

  "You tell me," Trap said aloud. "Did you send the team of souped-up soldiers after my wife? Did you want her dead?"

  Violet stared at him for a long heartbeat. "Of course not." Abruptly she turned her back on him. "Follow me."

  She's lying. Cayenne pressed her hand deeper into his side. There was a hiss of anger floating through her musical tone. She did send them.

  Gino swung in directly behind Violet. A phantom so close he could breathe on her neck or snap it any moment. She didn't feel him there, his pace matching hers exactly, his footfalls in perfect sync. Trap, Cayenne and Wyatt followed him, and Draden stepped behind them, covering their backs.

  You can't know that, Joe snapped. Stick to the plan. Find out what she wants and stop accusing her of things we can't prove.

  Cayenne knows a lie when she hears it. I do too, Trap bit out. That woman sent those soldiers knowing those three babies could have been at home. The soldiers were trying to kill all of them, Joe. She did that.

  There was a small silence and then Joe made his decision. Pull back. We don't have a security team in that room. You have to stay where we can protect you.

  Violet yanked open a hidden door that looked as if it was part of the wall. She stepped inside without hesitation. Gino followed her in. Trap swept his arm around Cayenne's waist, halting her. For all he knew, Violet had a team of soldiers inside, waiting to cut them down.

  Room's clear, Gino stated.

  I don't like it, Joe said.

  Gino says it's clear, you know it is, Wyatt said. We need this information.

  Trap? Joe prodded.

  I agree. Gino doesn't walk into traps. I say let's hear the lying bitch out.

  Cayenne's hand gave him a slap of a reprimand--or a pat of approval--on the ribs, he wasn't certain which, but he barely waited for Joe's go-ahead before he stepped inside, taking Cayenne with him. Wyatt was right there with them, pressing close to Cayenne on the other side of her, shielding her body as they moved toward the chairs set in front of a fireplace. Draden closed the door behind them, and then stayed in front of it, his arms at his side, looking relaxed. He moved like lightning, and he never missed his target. Never that Trap knew of anyway.

  No one sat, waiting for the senator to do so first. She didn't. She paced back and forth in front of the fireplace, her steps quick and fluid, all nervous energy. She finally turned to
ward them, realizing they weren't sitting.

  Violet waved toward the chairs. "Please. Hear me out. I invited you here for a very important reason."

  Wyatt gestured toward a chair. "You sit, ma'am."

  Swift impatience crossed her face. She flung herself into the nearest armchair. "They aren't rigged to blow up the moment you sit in them," she snapped.

  "I was raised by ma grand-mere. She taught me to be a gentleman. You don't sit, then I don't sit."

  Violet's gaze swept him. "Of course. But Dr. Dawkins has no excuse."

  "No," Trap agreed. "I'm not a gentleman, not unless I'm around a lady, which you're clearly not." He deliberately waited until Cayenne sank into a chair before he followed suit.

  "Why are you being so difficult?" Violet demanded.

  "Because you're trying to use compulsion on me, on all of us, and I don't like it. Stop trying to force us into doing your bidding. It isn't going to happen," Trap snapped. "This is a complete farce--you bringing up my past as if that's going to throw me. That's a game, bitch, and you know it. I call it like I see it. You're a senator because your husband was a senator and when you pulled the plug on him, you went on television every chance you got, playing the sad widow patriot and using your voice in order to make the world sympathize so you could be elected to take his place."

  Every vestige of color leached from Violet's face. Again her hand went to her throat. She pulled out a chain and wrapped her fingers around the two rings, making a fist, covering them like hidden treasure. She leaned toward Trap. "You don't know the first thing about me, so don't presume that you do."

  "I know you've been shoveling shit at us since you opened your mouth." Trap's voice lashed like a whip, something he was very good at. He ignored the warning hand Cayenne put on his thigh. He wrapped his fingers around it and held it to him, pressing her palm deep.

  She's really upset, Trap. When you mention her husband, she becomes very agitated.

  "I didn't pull the plug because I wanted to," Violet said, her voice low, her eyes on the floor. For one moment, her face looked ravaged. When she raised her eyes, she looked so completely grief-stricken, Trap couldn't help but register the look. He'd seen it in his own eyes every time he looked in the mirror after his aunt had been murdered. Bleak. An endless agony one couldn't escape. Violet couldn't fake that kind of grief. No matter how good of an actress she was, she couldn't fake that.

  "The only one who might have been able to save Ed was Whitney. He dangled that carrot in front of me so often, forcing me to help him with his schemes, but he never operated. There was a new protocol. It wasn't being used yet, but he knew how. He could have done it. A surgery and a drug. I brought my husband . . ." Her voice hitched on a sob. She choked it back and lifted her chin. "We flew into one of Whitney's safe military airports. He was supposed to help him. Instead he paired me with him. Paired me with him. With Whitney."

  There was so much hatred and anger in her voice, Cayenne winced. Trap curled his fingers around hers protectively and kept her palm pinned to his thigh.

  She's telling the truth, Cayenne confirmed. Every word is the truth. So is her emotion. The anger. The grief.

  "I did despicable things for my husband, to keep him alive, before he was shot and again after. I did everything Whitney wanted, including betraying my friends, my sisters--the others from the orphanage. Still, he didn't keep his word. There was no saving Ed. I knew that." Violet pressed her hand to her mouth. "When he told me to go into the hangar and pull the plug, I did."

  Her voice broke and she struggled for a moment with her emotions before she could continue. No one said anything. Waiting.

  "It was the only way I could get free of Whitney. I knew he hadn't paired himself with me, that it was only one way, not both. I knew that. He wanted me to worship him, do whatever he said. And I did. I became a senator, and I put myself in the position to be chosen as a vice presidential candidate. He thinks he'll continue to use me as his puppet and believe, me, that's exactly what I want him to believe."

  That is true, Cayenne confirmed. She leaned toward Violet. "Then why did you send the soldiers after me? And don't deny that you did that. You did. He doesn't want me dead anymore, does he? I'm paired with Trap. We're together, and more than anything else he wants a baby from our pairing. He wants Wyatt's children. You ordered the hit, not Whitney. Why did you do that? You need to tell us right now. You want to tell us."

  Trap stared at Cayenne in awe. She'd never used that tone. The one that slipped inside one's brain and insisted on obedience. So low. So perfect. The voice of an angel. No one, not even the devil, could avoid her voice or resist the soft command. She'd been telling him the truth when she said she'd never used her talent on him--not her full talent.

  Baby, I'm going to have to reassess whether or not I've actually had the upper hand. He let the awe and pride in her show in his voice.

  I love you, Trap, but you've never had the upper hand.

  He brought her hand to his mouth, turned it over and pressed his lips to her sensitive wrist making her shiver. He waited for her gaze to jump to his face. His tongue touched her pulse. It jumped and her eyes darkened. He smiled against her bare skin. I have the upper hand.

  "I did send the soldiers, but not for the reason you think," Violet said. "I knew you would wipe them out. It isn't like he has an endless supply. He takes the rejects from the program, the ones who test high in psychic ability, but low in the psychological ones. He knows they'll burn out eventually, because when enhanced, they're too aggressive and become killers. He doesn't care about that because he says they would never make good soldiers to protect our country and he might as well give them a purpose. He binds them to him some way so they're completely loyal to him."

  "You knew that. You knew he had a breeding program and some of these men were forcing the women to have sex with them. You knew and you turned your backs on them," Wyatt accused.

  She nodded. "For Ed. I had no choice if I wanted to keep him alive."

  "They were raped repeatedly," Wyatt said.

  "I know." She lifted her head. "I know. Do you think I sleep at night knowing what I let happen in order to try to protect my husband? I don't. I hate what I became. What I've become. Still, if I could have him back . . ." She broke off.

  Wyatt leapt out of his chair and paced across the floor, fury riding him. "You knew my children and my grandmother were in that house. My wife. The woman I love the way you loved your husband, and you still sent a full team of soldiers--a full team and two helicopters."

  "His helicopters. His soldiers," Violet hissed. "How else can I bring him down? You're soldiers. Trained. An elite force. You did your jobs. And you wiped out an entire full team. But you left one. The man you interrogated went running back to Whitney and he would have blown everything. I had to kill him before he connected with Whitney and make it look like he'd died because of wounds he'd sustained. Fortunately, Whitney trusts me just about as much as he could ever trust anyone." She sounded scathing, as if they were guilty of not doing their jobs.

  She's lying about that man going to Whitney. He went to her, Cayenne said.

  Wyatt suddenly flung his body in front of Violet's, hands slamming down on the arms of her chair, leaning in close to her. "You bitch. Did you not hear me? Do you not understand? You sent those trained soldiers after my wife. My children. Ma grand-mere. Nonny would have been killed if Cayenne hadn't jumped in front of her. Their deaths are not acceptable for your revenge. They aren't expendable."

  Violet didn't flinch. "It didn't occur to me that Whitney's soldiers had a chance to kill anyone, let alone your family. I presumed that you had protection in place for them."

  "Cayenne was shot. Twice." Trap took up the attack when Wyatt, clearly disgusted, prowled across the room to keep from strangling the woman.

  Violet's gaze swept up and down Cayenne. "She looks alive to me."

  Trap's breath hissed out. The air shimmered. Turned opaque. The shimmer drifted in a circl
e around Violet's chair, wrapping her up in a soft, incandescent veil. She coughed. Once. Twice.

  Trap stared at her, not breaking eye contact, watching as she began to choke. To change color. He didn't blink. Didn't move. Stared at her as any lethal predator might his prey.

  CHAPTER 20

  What the hell are you doing, Trap? Joe snapped. What's going on in there?

  I'm killing this fucking bitch, Trap replied. She allowed women to be raped repeatedly, held prisoner and experimented on for her own gain. She knew Whitney was giving Flame cancer and she didn't care. She sent a full team of trained soldiers to Wyatt's home where his children and wife were. She couldn't care less that Cayenne was shot. She's not worth it, Joe. She's the enemy, and we take out the enemy. Can you imagine what she'll do if she becomes the VP?

  I am ordering you to stand down. Right now. You stand down. Joe poured command into his voice. Trap wasn't a man to accept commands unless he totally respected the man heading his team. He'd always given Joe respect. He'd never once disobeyed his order. Joe, and the team, had covered for him more than once when he'd ignored a directive coming from above Joe.

  I overheard those soldiers talking about Cayenne, calling her names, acting like she was filth, an abomination to be stamped out. Those soldiers were loyal to Violet, not Whitney, no matter what she says. So screw her, Joe.

  Stand. The fuck. Down. That's an order.

  Cayenne very gently brushed her hand over Trap's face, her fingers lingering along the seam of his lips. "Honey. Let it go."

  Trap stood up so fast his chair rocked. He stepped away from the group, but before he did, he blew air into the center of the opaque mass. Turning his back on Violet he paced across the room to stand beside Draden.

  Violet fell out of her chair onto the floor, her hands around her throat, her body spasming. None of the men moved to help her. It was Cayenne who went to her knees beside the senator.

  "There's a pitcher of water and glasses over there on the sideboard," she said quietly. "Trap, I need a glass of water now."

  "This is fucking bullshit and you know it, Cayenne. She's a lying bitch who will do anything to get her way. She'll lie and kill and watch women she was raised with be raped and tortured in order to get what she wants." He poured water into a glass and brought it to her. "She'll let children die, put them in danger, if it serves her purpose. I don't want you fucking touching her."