“We’ll have to set up camp a couple of miles from here,” Fargo said. “This is one shit assignment. At least my bitch isn’t knocked up by some other man.” He laughed as he brushed past Carlson.

Kane held his breath as Carlson snarled, exposing his teeth, one hand going to the knife at his belt. Tension stretched out. Fargo glanced over his shoulder and abruptly came to a halt. His eyes glittered, a dangerous excitement. Both men were jacked up on something, and Kane feared it wasn’t a drug. Whitney wanted his soldiers aggressive. Both of the men wore aggression close to the surface. They looked like two bulls squaring off.

Fargo shook his head. “We’ve got a job to do, Carlson. If we don’t get it done, Whitney will send his hit squad. He warned you not to touch her.”

Carlson’s hand dropped from his knife, but Kane didn’t get the feeling he was appeased. The man shrugged. “Yeah. I heard him.”

“It’s my job to see you don’t go near her.”

Carlson’s smirk was a parody of humor. “We’ll see how good you are at your job.”

“Don’t you worry about me. You want to take first watch?”

“She’s as big as a cow,” Carlson snapped. “Where the hell is she going? I’m heading for bed. I’ve already got sand in my mouth. I hate this place.”

The two set off, griping and complaining, moving toward the south. Kane watched them plow over the rolling sand dunes. He was not going to let Rose outside again if there was any way to prevent it. Seeing her pregnant would only provoke Carlson further. What game was Whitney really playing? Something was off about the entire setup.

Swearing, he rolled over, keeping his weapon clear, staying very close to the ground so if either man looked back they wouldn’t be able to see him. He slithered down the slope leading to the house on his belly, much like a lizard.

I’m coming in, Rose. If the lights are on, turn them off.

They aren’t on.

There was something not quite right about her voice. He took another careful look around, ensuring the enemy was still heading away from the hideaway before he lifted his hand, moving the air in the gentlest of breezes, pushing the sand over his tracks, paying particular attention to the saw grass where he’d lain hidden. When he was satisfied the ground could stand a close examination, Kane opened the door and went in. He made certain to drop the heavy metal bar across the door, sealing them in and making certain no one could sneak in that way. Tomorrow night he would set a few traps around the house, several feet out in a circle, which would warn him if anyone—like Carlson—got too close. He slipped inside the house and let out his breath, aware of the tension coiled inside him.

He felt a little like a rat caught in a trap. He preferred open places where he could maneuver. He would be more help to Rose outside, where he could pick off the enemy easily, than here inside. Something clicked in his brain. Diego Jimenez would have felt the same way. How did he manage to relax here, knowing he was hunted? Had he relied solely on the fact that his hideout couldn’t be seen easily? Kane couldn’t believe Jimenez would think that way.

There had to be a warning system. He and Rose had missed it. The system couldn’t consist of motion lights; Jimenez wouldn’t want anyone who hadn’t actually spotted the house to be alerted by a light coming on, nor would that help during daylight hours. Kane moved through the dark house to the bedroom, turning the puzzle over and over in his mind. He stopped abruptly in the doorway, staring at the empty bed. His heart stopped beating—at least it felt that way. The jolt was sickening.

He spun around, eyes wild, feeling frantic. Had he missed something? He drew his weapon and stepped close to the tunnel entrance, looking for signs that someone had used it to come into the house.

Rose! She hadn’t contacted him telepathically. If she was in trouble, surely she would have. Rose, answer me, damn it. He bit out each word, authoritative. Commanding. The edge of ruthlessness more apparent than he would have liked, but he was trying not to panic.

“In here. I need your help.”

His heart began beating again, but the taste of fear remained in his mouth. He found her in the kitchen, waving at him from a nearly invisible ledge built along the windows. A single hard-backed chair was set just under the ledge. She’d obviously climbed onto the chair and inserted herself, baby and all, onto the ledge.

“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded.

She handed him a rifle. “My job.” She reached for him, wincing as her belly slid along the ledge.

He took her into his arms, carried her through the house to the bedroom and, resisting the impulse to drop her, sat her gently on the bed. “Your job is to keep from having the baby early, Rose, not play soldier.”

Her eyes darkened from rich chocolate to nearly black. “I do not play at being a soldier. I am a soldier. We’re a team, and I do my part, which is to watch your back.”

Fury burned in her eyes. He’d touched a sore subject, no doubt about it, but he wasn’t going to back down. She was pale. Little beads of sweat dotted her forehead. He could tell by the way she involuntarily rocked that she was in pain. He glared at her. “You were supposed to rest, not put yourself in danger looking out for me.”

“Diego made this house defensible. I knew that meant he would have places he could see out but no one could see in. Or he could shoot from, if needed. It didn’t take that long to discover he built a shelf in every room along the windows so he could see anything coming at him or shoot anything endangering him. I just climbed up there and watched your back, just like you would have done for me.”

There was no apology in her voice, and he knew he wasn’t going to get one, no matter that he was right. She’d climbed up on a chair to reach the nearly hidden shelf where she had to lie on her stomach, rifle in hand, tracking the enemy. He wasn’t a man known for his temper, but she was skating the edge of it more often than anyone he’d known.

“So you stood on a chair and pulled yourself up there.” He couldn’t look at her without wanting to shake her—or kiss her—so it was just easier to be angry.

“That’s exactly what I did.” There was defiance in her voice, and that told him she hadn’t thought it was such a hot idea either. “Kane.” Her voice softened. Dripped over him like warm honey. “Don’t be upset with me. I don’t want you upset with me.”

He made the mistake of turning his head. She sat on the edge of the bed, rocking back and forth, her hands cradling their baby, looking so far from a soldier his treacherous heart turned over. She looked vulnerable and beautiful and his. He’d never experienced the sensations taking place in his body—or his head. She’d slipped inside him and had coiled tightly around his heart. That mixture of fragile porcelain doll and fierce fighting soldier was a potent combination, keeping him off balance.

Her eyes, those melting chocolate almonds, blinked back at him all too innocently. She looked close to tears. He shook his head, ran both hands through his hair until it was completely disheveled. “I’m not upset. Well, a little. I don’t want you climbing on chairs in your condition. It’s not that I don’t think you’re capable, Rose; I do. It’s just that a man feels the need to protect his woman—and his child. The thought of you falling or hurting yourself or the baby is ...” He searched for a word that was appropriate to say around a woman. “Distressing.”

She nodded. “I’ll be more careful. Really.” Blink. Blink.

He was falling hard. One more little bat of her eyelashes and he was going to be on his knees. This wasn’t going the way he wanted it to go. He was totally wrapped around her little finger with just one little blink of her long lashes. For God’s sake, he was a tough guy, wasn’t he? Why the hell was he turning into jelly just looking at her?

“You’d better be,” he said, his voice gruff. “Have the—um—pains eased up?”

She shook her head. There was fear in her eyes.

He stepped closer to her. Her scent surrounded him, making it more difficult to think straight. He put his palm on her belly, spreading his fingers to take in as much territory as possible, willing the baby to stay put. “How early?”

“Too early. Nearly five weeks, Kane.” Her voice shook.

Keeping one hand on the baby, he curled the fingers of his other hand around the nape of her neck in a slow massage. “We’ll get through this.”

“We have to stay,” she said. “You know I can’t leave like this.”

“You just need to rest,” Kane replied soothingly, hoping it was true. He had a bad feeling, and he manfully didn’t point out that climbing on a chair and lying on her stomach might not have been the best way to stop labor.

“Kane.” She looked up at him, her eyes going wide. “Why didn’t they know you were close by?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Whitney’s men. They didn’t know you were here,” Rose said.

“That was the point.”

She shook her head. “I always know when GhostWalkers are close. I’ll bet you do as well. They walked right by you, and they didn’t have a clue.”

“You’re a GhostWalker. They probably thought they were feeling you.”

She shook her head. “Not after I went into the house. You were only a few feet from them, Kane. They should have felt the surge of energy around you, but they didn’t.”

“Or they didn’t notice because they weren’t paying attention.” But he didn’t think that likely. Two men left out in the desert alone? They’d been on alert. They may have dropped their guard a little when Rose went into the house, feeling as though she was trapped there and they had the upper hand. But she was right—Whitney’s two men should have felt the buildup of energy emanating around them.

“These men,” Rose said, nuzzling his hand with her cheek, “they flunked the psychological evaluation but not the psychic testing, right?”

Kane was certain she didn’t realize she was rubbing her cheek against him much like a cat. He laid his hand against her face, loving the feel of intimate contact with her. “Not only did they bomb on the psych eval, but their psychic abilities were extremely low.”

Her eyebrow shot up. “How did you know that?”

He grinned at her. “We have this really savvy techie who can hack just about anything. She hooked up with another woman who escaped Whitney, and between the two of them, they manage to snoop into almost anything Whitney has documented.”

Her hands covered his over the baby. “Who? What are their names?”

She looked so eager for news, he was sorry he knew he would be disappointing her. “Jaimie is married to Mack, the leader of our unit. I should have shot them both for eloping like that too. She’s been with us since she was a little kid. We all grew up together on the streets of Chicago. Jaimie’s psychic, and she was enhanced by Whitney, but he never was around her when she was a child.”

“And the other woman?”

He could tell she was holding her breath. “Whitney bought her from an orphanage somewhere in Europe. They call her Flame. She’s married to a Cajun GhostWalker we all call Gator. Flame wasn’t raised in the compound with you, sweetheart. She escaped from a different facility.”

Tears filled Rose’s eyes and she blinked them away, turning her head, allowing the silky cap of hair to fall around her face. “How many women did he do this to?” Her voice was very low, and it trembled.

He sank down onto the bed beside her and pulled her into his arms. It was awkward trying to hug her, so he simply lifted her onto his lap. Modesty be damned. If she gave him a hard-on all the time and he had to walk around with the damned thing, she could just deal with it.