Conspiracy Game by Christine Feehan

wasn’t enhanced, how could she practically carry a man of his size? He was twice her weight. “How were we enhanced?”
    “Dr. Whitney.”
    Her mouth went dry. She knew that name. Knew he was the one who had put her up for adoption, who had designed her education and provided medical care for her and her family her entire life. Her birth father? Had he even been her father? What was she? Some kind of freak experiment?
    Her mind began racing with the possibilities. Why were they both there in Kinshasa? Was it a coincidence that Jack and her brother Jebediah were in the service together? What were the odds that they would all end up in Africa together, especially since someone had paid an exorbitant amount of money to get them there?
    Briony risked a brief glance at Jack’s face. Even ravaged by pain and suffering, he was handsome in a masculine, chiseled sort of way. His features seemed carved out of stone, not real, but hard and weathered while remaining good-looking. He kept his gaze focused ahead, walking steadily, but more and more his weight was on her. The slow blood loss, coupled with exhaustion and his terrible wounds, was taking its toll. “Keep walking. One foot in front of the other.” The closer she got him to the city, the less distance she’d have to carry him—and it looked like carrying was going to be involved.
    They struggled for about a mile, following the stream. Briony had paused to get a better grip on him, when he suddenly pushed her to the ground, covering her body with his. His skin changed color to match the darker vegetation on the forest floor, and she immediately did her best to match his stripes. Jack had been nearly unconscious, but suddenly he was alert, pulling a handgun and signaling her to silence.
    What is it?
    Sniper. He’s been tracking me since I escaped the rebel camp. He’s damned dangerous. You should have left when I told you to go.
    Briony’s heart tripped into overtime and she tasted the familiar dryness of fear. She took a deep breath to combat the adrenaline and forced her mind away from panic as she lay listening. He’s behind us and to our right.
    That would be him. Hopefully he didn’t spot us while I was being careless.
    Briony squeezed her eyes closed tight and tried not to breathe. She hoped not, as well. She couldn’t let this man suffer any more. No matter who he was or what he’d done, no one deserved to be tortured like he had been. She took a deep breath. Are you a good shot?
    Jack looked at her. You aren’t going to do anything stupid.
    You’re going to pass out, tough guy. I know the signs. We don’t have all that much time and we can’t afford him behind us. I’m a good shot—but… She hesitated.
    Jack’s hand tightened on the nape of her neck. Whatever you’re thinking—don’t.
    Briony knew they couldn’t outwait the sniper. Jack was going to pass out. How he’d rallied enough to know what was going on was beyond her. I’m thinking I’m scared.
    Don’t be. I’ll get you out of this. See those trees to our right? I’m going to cover you. You do a slow crawl to the trees and get into the branches. Use the branches to make it to the river. Keep your skin camouflaged and don’t draw attention to yourself. Jack slipped her the handgun. You know how to use this thing?
    Briony hesitated then put her hand over the gun. There was no way to explain to him what the aftermath of violence could do to her. Feeling someone’s emotions, feeling them die would bring a total meltdown. On the other hand, she was well trained, an expert marksman, and she believed in self-defense. I know how to use it.
    He turned toward the region of forest where he was certain the sniper followed them. On his belly, eye to the scope, he waved her forward. Go. Get out of here. Don’t stop moving until you’re safe in your room.
    Briony inched her way through the ferns and rotting leaves, her heart pounding overly loud. She detested being a coward, wondering why, with