.She tried to separate herself from what he was saying. It was all happening to someone else. A woman she didn't know. She was a soldier and needed to get back to her unit. It's where she belonged-what she understood. She wasn't the type to lie helpless, tears burning in her eyes, while a man used her body, but she'd done just that, helpless to resist Ken's mouth and hands.
With Brett, it was a tight every single time he came near her. She was committed to defending herself and her right as a person to choose whom she wanted to be with. With Ken. she desperately needed him near. Every moment she spent in his company worsened the addiction to him. until she felt frantic with wanting his touch.
"Could Whitney do that?" she asked, searching her memory for an unguarded moment he might have let something slip. "What's your last name?"
"Norton." It was Jack who answered, his eyes still locked on his brother.
Again her heart jumped. She recognized the name and she should have known. Snipers. Not just any snipers. The elite.
Ken wiped the blood from her leg, all the while avoiding touching her skin. Pride should have kept her from looking, but she was fascinated by the way his body moved, by the glide of his hands, always so careful to keep from contact. The memory came out of nowhere, triggered by the mesmerizing ripple of muscle beneath skin. Whitney's face contorted with anger.
Damn the Nortons anyway. How did you let them slip away from you, Sean? I made it easy and you still blew it.
It won't happen again, Doctor.
Sean had been standing close to her while Whitney jabbed her with a needle right before one of their missions. She remembered the surreptitious brush of his hand to encourage her. She'd always hated needles, and only Sean had known that little weakness.
Ken stiffened, his fingers circling her foot like a vise. "Who is he?"
Mari blinked, glanced at Jack and back to Ken. "I don't know what you're asking me. And you're hurting me."
Ken let go of her as if she'd burned him. wiping his palm along his thigh. "The man you were just thinking about. I caught the impression of him. Big man, standing by Whitney. You like him."
"You caught all that just by touching me?"
"Damn it, answer me," Ken ordered.
"Ken, back off," Jack warned.
"You had your chance, Jack." Ken shot him a hard glare. "Now we all have to live with the consequences."
Mari laid her head on the blanket stuffed under her head, her eyes narrowing on his face, lending her a kind of tunnel vision. She recognized the familiar signs of her temper kicking in. "Wait a minute. I have a horrible feeling I'm beginning to understand what's going on here. Call me slow, but for some reason, although you're men, I expected you to act with intelligence."
"Mari…"
"You don't know me well enough to use my name. You don't know the first thing about me or my life. I'm your prisoner, remember? You shot me." Her voice was tinged with fury, so she kept it ultra-low, but it was too late to rein her temper in. She was already looking for something to smash over his head. "Don't you dare Mari me. I don't care if I have a broken leg. If you want to torture me, get on with it, but I'll be damned if you sit there being smug and acting like a jealous lover because of Brett. Brett, of all people. That's what set you off. I get it now. The 'did he touch you like this' and then losing your mind. What a complete ass."
"Mari…"
"What a moron. Don't talk to me. Don't touch my leg." Adrenaline poured through her body, so that she found herself shaking. "Do you have any idea what that man is like? What it's like for a woman to have someone who repulses her touch her? Go to hell, Ken. Next time you want to put a gun to your head, I'll help you pull the trigger."
"You don't understand," Jack said.
"Are you kidding me? I'm the one who has to endure Brett-or anyone else-at Whitney's whim. Not you, not Ken. And catching a glimpse of a soldier who has treated me with decency and respect-one I admire-is cause for jealousy as well?"
Ken remained very still, his fingers still circling her foot, the physical contact sending electric sparks zinging along her nerve endings, adding to the flood of anger building like a volcano.
"Who is he?" Ken repeated.
She was already in pain. What the hell? She used her good leg, snapping it up and out. straight at his face, using enhanced strength, needing the satisfaction of scoring just once against him. He was messing with her mind and Mari found that unacceptable.
He blocked the blow with one arm, hard enough to make her leg go numb, never letting go of her other foot, not even loosening his hold, as if her attack had been so inconsequential he almost hadn't noticed it.
"It was Sean, wasn't it?"
"Go to hell."
"You don't understand," Jack repeated. "Whitney didn't do this."
Mari pressed her lips tightly together, studying their faces. Ken hadn't moved a muscle, his hand still around her toes. She could feel the warmth of his palm, was all too aware of him as a man-not a captor-not an enemy.
"Fill me in."
"The old man managed to leave his legacy with one of us." Ken said, his tone matter-of-fact.
But he was shaken. He covered it well, so well she doubted Jack could see past his mask-that false emotionless mask Ken showed to the world. But when he touched her, when they were skin to skin, she saw more, felt more, knew more than he ever intended-and he was definitely shaken.
"I was the lucky one our father handed down his legacy to, and Whitney knew all along. I thought I had buried it deep where no one would ever know, but he's psychic and he read me like an open book, and all this time he's been waiting his chance."
Jack cleared his throat. "You think he wants to see your reaction to her when he's paired her with other men?"
"He thinks I'll kill them-or her."
Mari's stomach did a somersault. There was quiet truth in Ken's voice. She moistened her suddenly dry lips. "Someone really needs to fill me in here, because, quite frankly, I don't like the sound of that. Whitney has a way of manipulating people into doing exactly what he wants them to do and I'm not exactly his favorite person."
"Ken." Jack ignored her. "He isn't reading you. He has no idea of your character. You think the old man is lurking around inside of you. Hell, I thought the same thing, but it isn't true. We were investigated. Whitney has a high security clearance and he read everything in our files."
"What is everything?" Mari asked, trying desperately to ignore the way Ken's individual fingertips were bringing points of fire to her ankle.
"Jack, it has nothing to do with that. He probably did read the files, but he knows. He set this up because he wants to see how I'll react and how Mari will react, and now that you have Briony to protect, he wants to see how you'll react." Ken's fingers dug into Mari's ankle, and he suddenly turned his glacier-cold gaze on her. "My father was an insanely jealous man. He brutally murdered our mother and tried to kill both of us. Whitney knows it and he set this up. You. Me. Jack. Briony. It's all one big game to him."
"Well he's playing a deadly game then," Jack said. "Because no one controls us, Ken. We do what we've always done; we make our own rules and we stick together."
"What about her?" Ken's reply was so low Mari barely caught the words.
Jack sighed. "You know it's impossible to leave her behind, so we're going to have to work through it. It wasn't that easy for me with Briony, but we managed."
"I'm not you, Jack. I'm telling you, I'm like he was."
"No, you're not." Mari was firm, startling both men into noticing her. "If Whitney saw that information in a file somewhere, yes, he'd use it against you. He's very good at twisting people into knots, exploring their weaknesses, but if he has psychic abilities and he touched you, he didn't read that in you."