Ruthless Game by Christine Feehan

sex with her, that she had chosen him as the lesser of all evils—and maybe that was true to a small extent—but he’d made her feel beautiful and special when no one ever had. He made her feel as if she mattered for the first time in her life. He’d been so gentle. She dreamt of him nearly every night, and now, being so close to him, the image of him rising above her, his body locked deep inside hers, flooded her mind and refused to leave.
    “Rose,” he prompted. “Talk to me about Jimenez. I think it’s important. How did you meet the man?”
    “Diego moved into the apartment across the street from mine.”
    “ After you, then. You were already established in your apartment?”
    Rose nodded, her heart beginning to pound. She knew where this was going now, and she couldn’t believe she’d allowed herself to be duped.
    “Who lived in that apartment when you first arrived? And why did they leave?”
    She was so tired. She just wanted to weep. And go to sleep. She shifted, a subtle movement, sliding closer to him, dropping her head on his chest. He had one of those thick chests that inspired fantasies and made a woman feel perfectly safe. She was very fond of his chest—a little hard though—but she found the perfect spot for her head. His arms closed around her, and her heart jumped. So did the baby. She closed her eyes and took his hand to press his palm to her belly where their child played. Beneath his palm, the baby pushed as if in greeting.
    Rose expected him to pull his hand away, but his fingers, beneath hers, spread wide to take in more. She relaxed a little, allowing some of the tension to ease from her body. “There was a multi-generation family in the apartment when I first moved in. It was crowded, so I just figured they’d found a bigger place to live.”
    “Had they told anyone they were moving?”
    She was disgusted with herself. The family had children. The kids would have talked to their friends about leaving, and word would have gone along the street and through the neighborhood like wildfire. That was how it worked, and yet she hadn’t even given it a thought that the family had moved in the night and the elderly gentleman had moved in the next day. She sighed out loud, letting him know she was aware of screwing up. “No, they hadn’t told anyone. There was no gossip. I heard them leave, of course. I heard everything. A truck came, and men I assumed were friends loaded the furniture onto the truck.”
    “Had you ever seen the friends before?”
    “No. And now that I’m thinking about it, I didn’t see any of the family the entire day prior to the move. Not even their son, and he always was in the street with the other boys in the neighborhood. I can’t believe I just walked right into their trap.”
    “Whitney plays games, Rose. He loves to play his games.”
    “I don’t understand.” There were tears in her voice, burning her eyes, clogging her throat. She was so damned tired. She didn’t want to appear weak to him—he already thought she didn’t have a brain in her head and she was out of shape—but the thought of Whitney still orchestrating her life depressed her beyond belief.
    His palm brushed caresses over her belly, a soothing motion that not only calmed the restless baby but eased some of the tension out of her. “He has to have some sort of way to track you, Rose, and when you managed to elude his private little army of psycho GhostWalkers, he thought you were worthy enough to play one of his games.”
    Rose was silent, turning over the idea in her mind. She couldn’t remember a time in her life when she had been anywhere but a military compound training for combat. Whitney had watched every move they made. There had been no privacy, everything documented as if he were studying insects under glass. He had often tried to pit them against one another when they were little girls. He had tried hard to make them rivals, and then later, wanted them cohesive, working as a