“Whitney wants the baby, not the woman,” Carlson said, his expression going mean. “He thinks she’s going to give him his little supersoldier. He thinks my son will be flawed—like me. I don’t have any damn flaws. I should have put a bullet in his head when I had the chance.”

Kane found it interesting that these soldiers, as corrupt and damaged as they were, recognized that Whitney was playing games with them too, or maybe someone as cunning and evil as Carlson James would understand Whitney. God knew, the doctor made no sense to Kane.

“He pays us,” Fargo pointed out. “A hell of a lot more than the Marine Corps ever did.”

Carlson reached for his knife, all the while, his gaze on the house he couldn’t actually see. “Yeah. There’s that. Man. I can’t stop thinking about her and when she sits outside and I can smell her, I get so damned hard even the money doesn’t matter so much.” He pinned Fargo with cold, warning eyes. “And you don’t need to report that to the bastard. We’re just talking about money.”

Fargo looked a little alarmed. Kane figured Carlson was both volatile and unpredictable. Fargo had the very dangerous position of being the watchdog. He was obviously aware that Carlson was deteriorating the longer he was in close proximity to Rose without having access to her. What did that mean? Was this part of Whitney’s experiment? To find out how long a man could be paired to a woman without going insane with need? Need had turned to obsession for Carlson and then to depraved sickness.

Kane wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. Carlson was a sacrifice so Whitney could find the answer. Kane had been obsessed with finding Rose. Had his need turned into obsession as well? Damn Whitney and his appetite for high-stakes games. He loved to use people as human pawns. Having been bullied in his younger years by not only his parents but other children who didn’t understand him, he had developed a need to prove to everyone that he was smarter. He needed the games now just as much as he needed the experiments. The games seemed to be his one source of amusement.

“I just thought if we picked up a little senorita and shared her, kept her while we had to wait, that it might be easier for you, Carlson, that’s all,” Fargo said. “Once your woman has the kid, Whitney will take it, and you won’t have to worry about having that bastard’s brat running around.”

“It’s still her kid,” Carlson pointed out. “Women don’t like their kids taken from them. If I took her now, at least she’d have the kid.”

It surprised Kane that Carlson would be compassionate enough to think about Rose’s feelings. He might be brutish and selfish, but he’d thought about what it would mean to take Rose’s child from her.

Fargo nodded. “Yeah, but think about it, Carlson. If

Whitney can be occupied with his favorite project, making the kid his supersoldier, then you have a chance he’ll leave you and Rose alone if you have another child together. Your kid would have more protection.”

Carlson threw another arrow onto the growing stack. “I hadn’t thought of that. And Whitney isn’t going to give up until he has a kid to play the mad doctor with.”

Both men laughed harshly.

“Might not be such a bad idea if you went and got us a woman,” Carlson said. “One of us has to stay here and make certain she doesn’t take off.”

“Maybe you should go, give you a little break.” Fargo picked up an empty bottle. “And while you’re at it, replenish our supplies.”

Carlson shook his head. “I can’t do it, Fargo. She’s going to have that baby any day now. Do you realize she’s alone in there? What happens when she goes into labor? She could die. I’m going to stay right here.”

Carlson actually sounded like he was worried about Rose. Kane frowned, not wanting to relate to the man at all. It was difficult not to think about what would have happened if Kane had been in his shoes. Would he have managed to walk away from Rose knowing she was with another man? He hoped so. He hoped he was man enough to want her happy and that if she really chose someone else, he would abide by her decision. His heart hammered in his chest at the thought. Worse, everything male in him rose up to fight against the idea. If nothing else, this was a lesson in the havoc and devastation Whitney created. The man ruined lives and never thought twice about it.

Are you all right?

Rose’s voice was soft and hesitant. They’d agreed not to use telepathy with the soldiers so close. They might feel the disturbance in the energy waves around them. He must have been projecting distress for her to reach out to him in spite of their edict.

He kept his eyes on both soldiers, assessing their level of sensitivity. Fargo rubbed his eyes and Carlson frowned, but neither seemed at all suspicious. Kane had noticed before that neither appeared to have much in the way of psychic talent; now it was truly evident. He pressed his head into his palm, swearing to himself.

Whitney had requested Kane because he wanted the level of psychic gifts that Kane had been born with. Yes, Whitney had enhanced his skills, but he had scored quite high on the psychic tests. Neither of these men could have, or they would have sensed that someone other than Rose was in the house. Kane would have known. Whitney had taken the men who had barely managed to make it into the program. Most of them had flunked the psych evals as well.

Whitney didn’t want to pair them with his precious women. He simply didn’t have that many women who could be bred to produce a supersoldier, but he knew the women inside and out. He’d had them in his laboratory from the time they were infants. He had dangled Kane in front of Rose like a carrot, knowing exactly the kind of man who would appeal to her.

And Kane? Hell. He’d made it so damned easy. He had the knight-in-shining-armor complex—even his friends said so. He was a rescuer. Of course he would have agreed to do anything for Rose, once he’d learned of her plight. He’d never let a brute like Carlson force her to have sex with him. He’d been duped as well. If anyone thought Whitney wasn’t a true master of human study, Kane was going to testify to the truth of it all. Whitney had amazing, if not psychic, insight into the nature of people.

Kane. Now Rose’s voice trembled. I’m coming out.

Stay put, honey. He should have known better than to take so long. Rose would back him up no matter the danger. Just watching them for reactions. Strange, neither seems to feel the pressure building around them.

It was difficult to describe the exact feeling when other GhostWalkers were close or using telepathy. The pressure on their minds built rapidly, pressing into them to varying degrees, depending on the sensitivity level, sometimes as strong as a vise. It was odd to him that these men didn’t feel his presence. Each night he’d moved a little closer, and still they didn’t appear to know he was there. Several times he used his abilities to move air and that should have changed pressure in their minds, and yet neither noticed.

Rose was nothing if not quick. She realized the implications immediately. He felt the impact of the blow as comprehension dawned. She seemed stunned, so shocked for a brief moment her mind was blank, and then guilt washed over her because they were sharing the same conclusion about Whitney.

I’m sorry, Kane. I played right into his hands, didn’t I? I brought you into this, and if I hadn’t fallen into his trap, you would never . . .

Stop it! Just stop, Rose. I walked into this with my eyes open. I don’t have regrets other than that our first time together had to be a nightmare for you. Leave it alone.

He wished he was back inside to hold her. Rose had no preparation for a life outside of the military, yet she had succeeded in hiding herself and staying one step ahead of Whitney during her pregnancy. She had had no one all that time on the run to wrap their arms around her and comfort her, and he had wanted to be with her. He pushed a caress into his voice, the only thing he had to give her, separated as they were by the distance. I wouldn’t trade what we have for anything else. I don’t lie, Rose. If you don’t know anything else about me, know that.

Thank you.

She was weeping. Damn Whitney and his pitiful games. Rose deserved to be loved, and if she had nothing else in her life, if he could only provide that and little else, he vowed to himself that her world would be filled with love.

I’ll be there in a few minutes, sweetheart. Not that he was all that much comfort to her—yet.

He had grown up on the streets, but he’d had Mack and Jaimie and the others as a family. They’d banded together, and Mack’s mother watched over them all as best she could. He’d learned trust and loyalty growing up that way. Who had taught those things to Rose? Her childhood had been one of discipline and duty. She’d learned to endure, but she was determined to give their baby something she’d never had—a loving parent. He was just as determined that he would be right beside her.

Fargo picked up the empty bottle and stared at it morosely. “Swear to me that if I go into town after our little senorita and some supplies, you won’t go near the woman.”

Carlson glared at him. “She’s my woman, not just any woman. But no, I’m not about to screw up. Just bring us someone who can take a lot of heat. I like it rough.”

“It’s not like we’re giving her back,” Fargo said. “She’ll take it any way we want to give it to her.”

Carlson glanced at his watch. “Rose will be sitting outside in another twenty minutes, and after that we’ll report to Whitney. You can go when he shuts down for the night. You’ll have plenty of time to get what we want and be back here before anyone is the wiser.”

Fargo stood up, stretching. He tucked his knife into his belt and kicked at the empty bottle. “A woman sure beats chasing those coyotes with homemade arrows.”

Carlson smirked. “True, if she fights some. Coyotes sure do scream if you hit them in the right place. And they can take a long time to die.”

“You’re such a sick bastard, Carlson. That’s what I like about you.” Fargo stumbled away from the camp.

The smile faded from Carlson’s face, and he looked again toward the hidden house in the desert—and Rose. Kane didn’t like the look on his face, a dark promise of retribution.

Very carefully Kane began to backtrack, crawling, belly down, over the contoured slopes, stopping every few feet to erase his tracks with a small push of air. He had to make it back to get in a position to better protect Rose while she sat outside and put on her pregnancy show.

The baby’s restless, Rose sent him. Come inside. I think he has a tummyache. You’ll have to walk him while I sit outside.

Rose. He put a warning in his voice. There was nothing about the situation he liked. If he went inside, she sat outside without his protection. If she didn’t go out, they ran the risk of Whitney’s men thinking she was giving birth and breaking in. Parents allow their babies to sleep for twenty minutes all alone in their own rooms.

He made his nightly circle around the house, careful to search for any signs that the house had been approached. Once the men settled for the night, he usually checked the tunnel, just to be certain. He was nervous about that entrance. Neither of Whitney’s men had gone near the hidden entrance, and he doubted they knew of its existence—which meant Whitney didn’t know either.

What game had Diego Jimenez been playing with Whitney? Clearly he’d traded information for delivering Rose to Whitney, yet he hadn’t said a word about the weapons, the tunnel, or the Humvee to Rose, a logical thing to do if he was really trying to help her. What did that mean exactly? He had to figure it all out soon, because time was running out for them fast.

He isn’t asleep, Kane. I can’t leave him.

He swore under his breath and then made an effort to calm down. Damn it, Rose. Do you have any idea what could happen if Carlson decided he wanted to visit with you tonight?