Ken glanced at his brother. He couldn’t tell—and that meant neither could Mari. She had a chance then, a slim one, but still a chance when he’d thought they were all lost. He didn’t watch tragic movies and he sure as hell wasn’t going to live a tragic life, nor was he going to allow Jack and Briony and certainly not Mari to live one either. Whitney be damned and his experiments too. If necessary, Ken would go hunting the man.
Aren’t you? Jack repeated.
You’d know it if I was, wouldn’t you?
Jack swore under his breath. That’s not an answer and you know it.
Ken shrugged, making it as casual as he could. Evidently, my genes are not quite as in demand as yours.
Jack narrowed his eyes and frowned at his twin. Suspicion pushed at Ken’s mind. Jack was not in the least bit satisfied with his answer.
You’re acting possessive of her.
I shot her. She’s Briony’s sister. Not just a sister, her twin sister. If this doesn’t end in a good way, do you really think Briony’s going to be okay with that? You can’t get anywhere near Mari, because if she dies, Briony will blame you whether she wants to or not; it’s human nature. You can’t, Jack. You have to let me handle this one.
Jack shoved his fingers through his hair, a rare moment of agitation. It’s not right. Because you’re looking out for me, you’ll destroy your own relationship with Briony.
I’m not married to her. And that’s what we do. We look out for one another.
Keep that in mind if you decide to take any unnecessary risks just to protect me with my wife.
I didn’t know there was such a thing as an unnecessary risk. Ken flashed a small, cocky grin at his brother and was relieved to see him relax.
Nico set the helicopter down on a small pad just above the house Lily Whitney-Miller had rented for them. A brilliant woman, she was the only orphan Peter Whitney had raised as his own daughter, and the betrayal of all that she had known and believed had been devastating. Married to a GhostWalker, Ryland Miller, she’d opened her home, a huge estate, and her resources, to the GhostWalkers. It was Lily who had found ways for them to build shields to protect their brains from continual assault. And it was Lily who had put Flame’s cancer into remission. And it was always Lily who stayed one step ahead of her father to keep the GhostWalker teams safe. When they didn’t know who else to turn to, they called on her.
As the helicopter settled to earth and Nico shut it down, Eric slipped from his seat and once more bent over his patient, stethoscope to her heart. His hand slid down her arm until he found her wrist, searching for her pulse.
Ken’s gaze jumped to the palm sliding over Mari’s bare flesh, and a roar of protest started deep in his belly. Primitive and ugly, the monster inside gnashed its teeth and clawed for freedom.
“Didn’t you just listen to her heart rate?” Ken asked, keeping his voice even. “Is something wrong that you’re not telling us?”
Eric turned his head with a small frown. “She lost a great deal of blood and we could only give her—”
His voice broke off abruptly as Mari caught his hair, jerking his head back and down toward her. Her hand slid from his hair to his belt, extracting the knife there and whipping it around his throat.
Jack already had his gun out, aimed between her eyes. “I’ll f**kin’ put a bullet in your head if you don’t drop that knife right now.” His voice was low and frightening and he meant every word.
Mari tightened her hold on the knife, pushing it against the doctor’s throat. “Take out the IV. You shoot me and I’ll still have enough time to cut his throat.”
“Maybe, but I don’t think so,” Jack said. “And either way you’re still dead.”
“Let’s all calm down here.” Ken moved into her sight. His eyes were pure mercury, a slash of liquid steel. “This can only end badly, Mari, and no one wants that.” He was gliding across the helicopter, a silent, graceful flow of muscle and sinew that was as intimidating as hell.
“Stop moving,” she bit out between clenched teeth, tightening her grip on the knife until her knuckles turned white.
Stay the hell away from her, Ken. Don’t you damn well get between us. I’ll kill her right now, Jack warned.
There’s no need for this; she can’t go anywhere.
“I f**kin’ mean it, Ken. I’ll take her out.”
“Just be calm and think about this,” Ken said. He didn’t look at his brother or acknowledge the warning, and he didn’t stop moving. “You still have a catheter in. How far do you think you’re going to get with that?”
“The doctor is going to tell you how to take it out. I mean it, Doc, rip the IV out and do it now.”
“Jack isn’t a nice man, sweetheart,” Ken said. “He looks handsome and talks soft, so people sometimes get the wrong impression about him. Remember when I was telling you how he pulled me out of Ekabela’s camp? He was captured and escaped. Now, anyone in their right mind just keeps running, especially when they’re in the middle of rebel territory, but not Jack.” His voice was low and conversational, as if they were sitting across a table from each other, not staring down death.
He kept coming, a silent stalker, making her feel small and vulnerable. Was he within striking distance? He didn’t appear to have a weapon, yet she was suddenly terrified. Not of the fact that she might cut a man’s throat, or that Jack would shoot her, but of those glittering eyes that never left hers, eyes so cold she shivered.