Predatory Game Read online

  A soft muted sound stopped him cold. Saber was weeping, a muffled, heartbroken sound that tore his heart right out of his chest. Damn the GhostWalkers and the all-too-necessary security precautions. Damn the security guard and Brian for withholding a warning.

  "I'll go." His guest moved out of the shadows.

  "I'm sorry for the inconvenience," Jess forced himself to say. He couldn't very well tell her to go to hell. Louise Charter, the admiral's secretary, had risked her life to hand deliver a small digital recorder to him, yet at that moment, all he could hear, could concentrate on, all he cared about, were the soft sounds of distress emanating from the bedroom upstairs.

  Saber never cried in front of him. Not even if she was injured. Tears might sparkle for a moment, but in ten long months, Saber Wynter had never cried.

  Jess knew he was bordering on rudeness when he ushered Louise from his home with unseemly haste. The moment the door was closed he waited impatiently for the lift. It seemed to take an endless amount of time. He had a mad desire to try jumping his wheelchair up the flight of stairs, balancing on two wheels.

  Why had she come home? He remembered the feel of her satin skin burning his. Of course. She was ill. There could be no other reason conscientious little Saber would leave her job. He didn't let himself remember the cool steel in her eyes when she'd first turned, the ease of her body rolling, and her hands coming up in a classic defense. Only the hurt, the betrayal in her eyes--in her voice--mattered. Her voice had slid into his mind with such ease, such clarity, such pain.

  The lift carried him to the second floor and his racing chair glided silently through the sitting room to her bedroom. He paused in the wide doorway, his dark, stricken gaze on Saber's slender form. She was on her stomach, her tear-stained face buried in the crook of her arm.

  His heart turned over. One thrust of his powerful arms and he was at her side, his hand tangling in the riot of curls. "Baby." He groaned it softly in a kind of anguish. "Don't, don't do this."

  "Go away." Her voice was muffled.

  "You know I'm not going to do that," he replied, keeping his voice low. "You're sick, Saber, I'm not just leaving you up here to fend for yourself." His hand stroked her hair. "Come on, love, you've got to stop crying. You'll get a headache."

  "I already have a headache," she sniffed. "Go away, Jesse, I don't want you to see me like this."

  "Who can see? It's dark in here," he teased, hands sliding to her shoulders in a calming rhythm.

  "Where'd your little friend go?" Saber couldn't stop the words from tumbling out, could have bitten her tongue off for doing so. As if she cared. He could have fifty women, a whole harem over every night while she worked at the station.

  Jess found himself smiling in spite of everything, and had to hastily control his voice. "You're running a fever, little one, let me get you a cold cloth. Have you taken any aspirin?"

  "So perceptive of you to notice." Saber sat up, rubbing her eyes with her fist, furious with herself for crying. She swept a hand through the mass of raven-colored curls in a vain effort to smooth the disheveled mess. "And I can take an aspirin all by myself."

  He was already halfway to her bathroom. "True, but would you?" he queried as he pushed open the door.

  Jess had designed the remodel of his house, making certain that every door was comfortably wide, everything was low enough for him. Now, he was particularly grateful that he'd made certain he had ease of movement upstairs as well as down. Ignoring the lacy scraps of female underwear hanging to dry on the towel rack, Jess scooped up a washcloth.

  Saber made an effort to pull herself together. So she wasn't feeling good. Big deal. So her best friend in the entire world had scared the hell out of her. Big deal. Jess was sneaking around with some woman he didn't want her to know about. Rotten, stinking, no-good bum. Saber smoldered with resentment, frustration, and something that was far too close to jealousy.

  Just what was he doing with all the lights out? How often did Jezebel visit while she was gone? It wasn't like Saber didn't tell him about every single disgusting date she went on. They had endless discussions about them. She didn't sneak behind his back.

  Jess stifled a small grin. It took tremendous effort for him to keep his expression blank. Her violet-blue eyes spit fire at him. Jealousy meant she cared, whether she wanted to care or not. Something stirred in him deep down, something gentle and tender and long forgotten.

  "Baby," he said gently, "if you continue to look at me like that I'm bound to fall dead on the floor." The cool washcloth moved over her burning face, stroked down her neck.

  "Good idea, great idea, in fact," Saber snapped, but she didn't pull away from his ministrations.

  "Shall I call Eric?" He pushed back her hair.

  Eric Lambert was the surgeon who had saved Jesse's life, Saber knew, a really big deal, apparently famous among doctors, and he still made house calls--at least to Jess. Sometimes he came with another doctor, a woman, although Saber had never met her. But she knew Jess had been violently ill after the last time they'd both come; she didn't want any part of that.

  "I've got the flu, Jesse," she reassured him in spite of the fact that he deserved the death penalty. "No big deal, I don't need a doctor."

  "You need to get out of these clothes." His voice dropped a husky octave.

  "Don't hold your breath." Having an affair without saying a single word when he wanted to know every detail of her dates? How dare he?

  "Who did you think I was?" He slipped the question in with all the precision of a skilled surgeon wielding a knife.

  Beneath his hands she went still, blue eyes skittering away from his. One finger nervously twisted a lock of hair around it. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

  Jess lifted the washcloth, caught her chin in a firm grip, and forced her to meet his steady, probing gaze. "You're getting to be a terrible liar."

  Saber jerked her chin free. "I thought you were safe in bed, caveman. Why do you think I was stumbling around in the dark? I was being considerate. How was I supposed to know you were carrying on a clandestine meeting with the local harlot?" Furious, Saber sat up and switched on the dim lamp on her nightstand. "I can't believe you actually tripped me and held a gun on me."

  "I can't believe you behaved so stupidly. If I had been an intruder, you'd be dead right now," he bit back, dark eyes glittering.

  "Well, maybe I knew it was you all along. Did that ever occur to you?" Saber jumped up, putting distance between them.

  "Like hell you did."

  "Don't you dare get mad at me. I wasn't the one pointing a gun at your head. I didn't even know you had a gun in the house. I hate guns," she declared. But she knew how to use them. She could break one down and put it back together in seconds, less than that when needed. She was fast, efficient, deadly.

  "So I noticed." He smiled in spite of himself.

  She paced the length of the room with the familiar flowing grace of a ballet dancer. "Well, just who did you think I was, some private investigator hired by that woman's husband?"

  Jess didn't even blink. "I don't know what you imagined you saw," he began.

  "I saw a woman. She ducked into the shadows," Saber was adamant.

  "It happened so fast, honey, and you were frightened."

  "Hit the big slide, Jesse," Saber said rudely.

  "I'm not exactly certain what that means."

  "Don't you laugh. Don't you dare laugh. It means go to hell, and for your information, I wasn't that scared. I know I saw a woman." She crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her head to scowl at him. "Not that I blame you for wanting to deny her existence. Her dog probably wants to deny her existence. But I know what I saw."

  "Okay, okay," he said soothingly. "You saw a woman hiding in our living room, I believe you. Now get out of those clothes and into your night things."

  Saber glared at him. "You're patronizing me, pretending to pretend to believe me."

  His eyebrow shot up. "This is far too com
plicated to sort out with you so ill. I can't even follow the logic of that. If it makes you feel better I'll close my eyes."

  She considered throwing things at him, but her head was pounding and she was unbearably hot. "So keep them closed," she ordered and stalked into the bathroom.

  Saber was observant; he had to hand it to her, although it shouldn't surprise him. She was running a high fever, was terrified of the dark, and must have been even more so by his unexpected assault. Yet she had noticed that whisper of movement in the darkest corner of the room. And her movements had been calm enough, calculated, and might have worked on someone with less training.

  She emerged, clad in a long T-shirt reaching halfway to her knees, looking more beautiful than ever. "Are you still here?" she demanded as she flounced across the floor to fling herself on the bed.

  "Did you take aspirin?"

  "Yes." She made a face at him to show him he wasn't forgiven. "Are you happy?"

  Jess sighed softly. "You're still angry with me."

  Saber curled up in a little ball, facing away from him, actually hunching a shoulder. "You think?"

  It took one powerful motion of his incredibly strong arms and Jess had shifted himself from his chair to her bed. Saber's slender body stiffened as he stretched out beside her, but she didn't protest.

  He pulled her close, fitting her into his shoulder, amazed at how soft her skin was, how fragile and small she appeared next to him. He reached out a lazy hand to snap off the lamp.

  "Don't."

  "It's time for you to sleep, baby," he prompted, plunging the room into darkness with a quick flick of his fingers.

  Instantly he felt the shudder run through her body. "I sleep with the light on."

  "Not tonight. Tonight you sleep in my arms, knowing I'll keep you safe." He stroked her hair tenderly.

  "I have nightmares if the lights are off," Saber admitted, too sick to care.

  His chin rubbed her silky curls. "Not when I'm here, Saber, I'll keep them away."

  "Arrogant dragon king," she murmured drowsily, reaching to lace her fingers with his. "Demons wouldn't dare cross you, would they?"

  "Who did you think I was, Saber? Who are you running from?"

  There was such a long silence Jess was certain she wouldn't answer. Finally she sighed. "You're imagining things. I'm not running from anyone. You scared me is all." There was the tiniest note of amusement in her sensual, silky voice.

  Lying next to her should have produced the familiar relentless ache, but instead he felt a deep peace, something he had never experienced, stealing into him. She felt intensely hot despite the fact that the air in the bedroom was quite cool and he had only pulled a sheet over them.

  "Maybe I should call you a doctor," he murmured. "Eric could be here in a couple of hours."

  Saber sighed. "Stop fussing, Jesse," she pleaded. Her fingers tightened around his. "I'll be fine."

  He held her, feeling her body relax in the shelter of his, her breathing slow and rhythmic. Jess buried his chin in the mass of silky raven corkscrews, enjoying the feeling of just lying next to her, of being close to her.

  Sometime later he must have drifted off, his dreams mildly erotic, not the usual flaming fantasies Saber aroused in him. The first sign of her distress awakened him, a soft little whimper, her body jerking convulsively.

  She rolled suddenly, her hand coming up and toward him, a knife slicing fast toward his jugular with deadly accuracy. The movement was smooth and practiced. He caught her arm, slammed it down to the mattress, twisting almost to the point of breaking her wrist, his thumb finding a pressure point to force release. She never made a sound. Didn't cry out in pain, even when he dug his fingers in hard enough to bruise.

  Jess was enormously strong, genetically enhanced, and worked out daily in order to lift his own body weight all the time, yet it was difficult to subdue her. "Wake up, Saber," he hissed, giving her a little shake.

  The knife dropped from her hand and slid off the bed, but she rolled, ramming her elbow toward his jaw. He took the blow on his shoulder and caught her by the throat, slamming her down to the mattress.

  Saber fought back, her eyes wild, haunted, his name on her lips. "Jesse!" She called for him again, the sound so filled with pain, so raw with terror, he felt actual tears stinging his eyes.

  "For God's sake, Saber, wake up. I'm here. I'm here." He pinned her wrists, holding her down so she couldn't continue the attack. "You're having a nightmare. That's all it is, just a bad dream."

  He knew the exact moment she became aware. Her body stilled, stiffened. Her gaze jumped to his face, examined every inch of his features, searching his expression for reassurance. He slowly released her and lay back beside her, turning so his body curled protectively around hers.

  "Someone's in the house, Jesse, I heard a noise." She shuddered and leaned her burning forehead against the coolness of his.

  "It was a nightmare, baby, nothing more."

  "No, someone's in the house. Downstairs." She clutched at his shoulders. "Lock my door. Is my door locked?"

  He smoothed back her hair with gentle fingers. "No one can get in, you're safe with me."

  "Turn on the light, we have to turn it on. No one will come in if the light's on," Saber insisted desperately.

  "Shh." He pulled her into his arms, burying her small, delicate face against his chest. She was trembling, burning hot against his skin. Tenderly he rocked her back and forth. "Nothing is wrong, Saber. I would never let anything happen to you."

  Her heart slammed hard against his chest, her pulse racing so frantically, Jess tightened his hold.

  "It wasn't a dream. I know I heard a noise, I know I did." One hand curled into a fist, beating a tattoo against his shoulder. The other stroked the bulging line of his biceps in agitation.

  There was something intensely intimate about the feel of her fingers tracing his muscles, despite the circumstances. His body stirred in response, painfully tight, urgently demanding. He ignored it, imposing the strict discipline that had kept him alive for years. He simply held her, rocking her gently, stroking her hair soothingly, not answering her wild imaginings.

  It was some time before her body ceased trembling and she lay quietly in his arms.

  Jess brushed a feather light kiss over her silky curls. "Feeling better?"

  "I think I'm making a fool of myself," she replied in a small voice.

  "Never that, honey," he murmured with gentle amusement. "You had a bad dream. Probably that rotten music you listen to."

  She nuzzled his chest, liking the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear. "Country music is good music."

  "After the other night I decided I could get to like it. What in the world were you playing, anyway?"

  "You don't like rap?" Her laughter was muffled. "How did I know you wouldn't like that particular group?"

  He tugged a curl a little bit too hard in punishment, then rubbed the spot soothingly when she squealed. "Because I write number one hits all the time and not one of them has ever been rap."

  "Egotistical maniac," she accused. "Not everyone has to listen to your music."

  "That's true, baby, I don't care if the entire world stops listening." His lips brushed her hair again. "Except for you. Not only are you required to listen, but you're required to like it." He gave the order gruffly.

  She laughed softly, relaxing against him. "So sing to me."

  There was a long silence. Jess cleared his throat. "Say, what?"

  "Sing. You know. Ooh baby, baby, dum de dum. Sing."

  "I don't sing, I write. Music and lyrics. Write, Saber. And I sell them to other artists. I work for the navy. I don't have a band."

  "Why is that, Jess? You're obviously independently wealthy, you have a reputation as a songwriter, yet you're still in the military. You're in a wheelchair."

  "I hadn't noticed."

  "You know what I mean. Why are you still in?"

  "Who said I was?"

  "I've lived here ten m
onths. I know you're doing some kind of job for them. Or am I not supposed to know?"

  "You're not supposed to know."

  She settled deeper into his chest, looking up at him with humor in her eyes. "Fine then. I'll be ignorant. Sing to me, Jesse. If I can't have the light on, and we can't discuss how utterly stupid it is for you to stay in the military, then you can at least sing."

  "Is this what I have to look forward to the rest of my life?" he asked, bunching her hair in his hands.

  "A fate worse than death," Saber agreed drowsily.

  At least she hadn't demanded to know what he meant. Jess mentally shook his head. He couldn't afford any more mistakes like that. Saber didn't stay in one place very long and lately she had become restless, looking over her shoulder. Was she getting ready to leave? She had said she wasn't running anymore. He couldn't take the chance of making her more nervous, because he damned well wasn't going to let her go, and he was finding out every single one of her secrets whether she liked it or not.

  "Jesse." Saber sounded petulant.

  He eased back against the pillows, Saber's head on his chest. "A song, huh?" Jess sighed heavily. "You're so high maintenance."

  "Quit stalling," she murmured.

  Jess closed his eyes and allowed the feel of her satin skin, the clean feminine scent of her to seep into him. He swallowed the lump in his throat and sang Saber her song. The one he wrote for her, the one that beat in his heart, his head, every time he looked at her or thought of her. A slow, dreamy ballad.

  She moves like an artist, graceful and free

  Like the paint on a canvas that flows easily

  Oh, but those haunting eyes

  They make me realize

  The depths of my emotions stirring inside

  She's the woman I dream of

  A child at play

  Crusading for others, in her own special way

  When I think that it's over, it's only begun

  When I look in her eyes...

  Oh, but those haunting eyes

  They make me realize

  The depths of my emotions stirring inside

  Like the flight of the butterfly in gentle breeze

  Her delicate features are so clear to see

  She's a woman, a warrior who never gives up

  Oh, but my elusive butterfly

  She makes me realize