Toxic Game (GhostWalkers #15) - Christine Feehan Page 0,91
about Trap and Trap is all about her.”
“In what way?”
“No one will ever tell Cayenne what to do, with the exception of Trap. She’s lethal as all get-out and a little scary.” For the first time since he’d decided to reveal his past to her, he flashed her a little grin. “I can see why that sort of thing gets Trap hot and bothered.”
She would have rather he got hot and bothered when she was playing the seductress. Clearly, she was using the wrong tactic. She had mad assassin skills, but she clearly lacked the ability to get him excited enough to want her. Or maybe she just wasn’t reading the situation right. Perhaps she needed to let him see she could wrap him up in silk and tie him to the ceiling. Or better yet, build a funnel web and cocoon him in a burrow.
She sighed. That smile of his was dangerous, at least to her. She walked over to the window again to watch the wash of water spilling across it in great gusts. It wasn’t droplets that hit the glass, it was more like a mini-waterfall. She traced the pattern on her side of the glass, not looking at him. The storms in Indonesia were rarely intense. They had thunder and lightning, but this was quite strong. The gusts of wind hit the cabin and rattled the windows. The rain hit hard, pelting the glass and roof, threatening to drive right through the structure. Unease crept down her spine.
It wasn’t that she didn’t like storms—she did. She often sat outside and watched them coming at her. This one was unusual for the area. Lightning was overhead now, streaking across the sky and lighting up the rolling black clouds. This was the type of weather where all the creatures hid, making certain they had somewhere dry to ride it out.
“I think you did what any of us would have done under the circumstances. In any case, it was self-defense. They couldn’t let you go after what you’d witnessed. You do understand that, don’t you?”
She remained facing the glass, trying to see through the storm. It was midday and yet dark enough to make it hard to see much of anything. That bothered her on an elemental level.
“It doesn’t matter whether they would have or not. I detested them. I detested that people who already had everything they could possibly want would step on others who had nothing. Would use them and crush them. I’d lived my life mainly in the streets and found out the hard way that people who could have helped just hurt us.”
“Do you believe Whitney destroyed that video?” Shylah swung back to face him. “If you don’t, I can go back and find it. I’m pretty good at getting in and out of tight places.”
“You’re not going back there.” His features darkened to match the storm raging outside the cabin. Fury burned in his eyes.
“I said I could go back, not that I planned to.” Unease slid through her again. She glanced toward the window and then rushed to her jeans. “I think we need to check outside. I don’t know why, but I can’t shake this feeling that something’s wrong.”
He didn’t argue, already dragging a T-shirt over his head and catching up his weapons, shoving them into the loops on his jeans. She was doing the same.
“Is there a back way out of here?” There hadn’t appeared to be when he had explored the space. He’d looked for exits, but the building didn’t appear to have another exit.
“We’ll have to go through the window at the far back. That’s the biggest one and I think you can fit. I don’t know if anything’s outside that shouldn’t be, Draden. It could just be me getting a vibe from this storm.”
“I must be getting the same vibe you are,” he said. “It isn’t strong, which leads me to believe the threat is some distance from us, but it’s there.”
“There’s a ring of soldiers around us, supposedly guarding us,” she said, catching up a small pouch and pulling the drawstring over her head. “Maybe they decided they were too scared to allow us to live.”
She didn’t care about the reason—she only knew that her heart was pounding, letting her know they were in trouble. She hurried toward the back of the cabin, thankful Draden wasn’t the kind of man who wanted to tell a woman she was crazy or full of nerves. He hadn’t even asked