Chapter 31
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
It took a while before Delgado could get out of the damn bed; Rowan fussed over him if he lifted anything heavier than a paperback. However, her talent must have been working overtime, because he only stayed fully down for two weeks before starting weak workouts again.
He had a mountain of reports to catch up on and a debriefing to attend about the rescue mission, too.
He’d healed almost completely of three bullet wounds in record time.
It was amazing. Jilssen kept poking around while Rowan was in the infirmary, but she avoided him like the plague.
Del wondered about that, of course. He wondered about Rowan’s tight-lipped, pale scowl whenever Jilssen passed by Delgado’s bed; and he wondered about her nervous laughter.
Something was going on with her.
The most truly amazing news was Sheila. She’d kicked the Zed in less than a week, and hadn’t needed a detox kit for the last three days. Henderson had taken her to a bed-and-breakfast upstate and spread the rumor that she was in isolation, having a difficult detox.
It was a lie, but a necessary one, since neither Del nor Henderson wanted news of this getting out.
Rowan had cured a case of Zed addiction, and that made her damn near worth her weight in gold. A psion who could outright cure Zed addiction wouldn’t just be valuable to Sigma. They would go all-out to get her.
The fewer who knew, the better, even within the Society. Henderson had even outright ordered Del and Emily to keep it quiet. Del was glad he hadn’t had to convince the General of the value of silence.
It was a relief to finally move back into his own room, a relief to shut out the rest of the world.
Rowan set his bag down on the bed and commenced fussing at him to lie down.
Instead, he sank in the huge armchair and let out a sigh of relief.
More plants had shown up—a miniature rosebush blooming red, some leafy green thing Delgado thought was maybe a datura, and another wrought-iron plant stand held four African violets, three of which were blooming vigorously.
More books were scattered everywhere, and there was a pile of clothes by the bathroom door.
She descended on the clothes, scooping them up and stuffing them into the already overloaded laundry hamper. “I haven’t had time,” she said defensively, sweeping her hair back.
“I didn’t say anything,” he said. “You’ve been busy in the infirmary. Can we talk?”
Her green eyes widened, and he felt his heart skip a beat. “Of course.” Stooping to scoop up two books from the floor. She started shelving the books, the crackling tension in the air following her like smoke. “Just let me do this.”
“Easy, Rowan.” He knew what tone to use now, soothing and authoritative at the same time. “Calm down, sit down, and take a deep breath.”
She dropped down on the bed, setting the books primly to one side, and glared at him.
He couldn’t help himself. Del began to laugh.
In fact, the chuckled so hard tears blurred his eyes. His chest hurt; curling his hands into fists, he sank into the chair’s embrace and guffawed until he thought he would never catch his breath.
Rowan stared at him, perplexed at first, then seeming to relax. A slight smile crept over her face. She relaxed, waited patiently for him to get over it.
When he finally did, she sighed and folded her arms. “Finished?” Her eyebrows rose slightly.
Good God, I don’t think she knows how beautiful she is. “I guess.” He wiped at his eyes. “Christ, Ro. Don’t look at me like that. You’re dangerous.”
“Dangerous?” She was back to perplexed. “What are you—”
“Why don’t you like Jilssen?”
It was a little too abrupt. She paused, her gaze dropping. Weak icy-morning sunlight flooded in through the window, making her glow. She pushed up the sleeves of her blue sweater, kept staring at the floor.
“I don’t know,” she said finally. “I… I just don’t want him to touch me.”
Delgado felt his eyes narrow. “He tried to touch you?” His tone abruptly dropped, became serious.
“When you left. I don’t know. I just… He always seems to be watching. I’m just nervous.” Her shoulders eased.
“Don’t worry about Jilssen. I’ll keep him away from you.” He’d better not try anything. Del had to take a deep breath, invoking control.
“He wants me in a telem rig. You know about those?”
“Oh, yeah. We’ve been working on ‘em for a while. They just amplify a psi’s talents, Rowan, but some of the telepaths don’t like them very much.
It’s hard to shield.” He settled himself more comfortably.
He shouldn’t have been so tired after just a weak workout and the walk back to his room, but he was.
It was damn near a miracle that he was still alive, even if Rowan had performed the impossible.
That’s not the only miracle she’s worked.
He watched her pull her hair back and twist, nervously.
If Sigma ever gets wind of the fact she can cure Zed addictions, we’ll have a lot more trouble on our hands than even I can handle.
“I don’t like the way he looks when he asks me. I’d prefer you there if I ever use one of those things.”
That warmed him clear through. “No problem. Nobody here is going to hurt you, Rowan.”
She shrugged, looking down again. “I’ve got a bad feeling.” As if she expected him to laugh again.
“What kind of bad feeling?” His attention sharpened.
“Just… I’m uneasy. Really uneasy. The nightmares. When I can sleep, that is, and—” She bit her lip, stopping as suddenly as she’d started. “What if Sigma can still track me?”
“They would have scooped you up before now.” While I was bringing you in. And that was bloody well close, as Brew would say. Andrews nearly had us both.
“But this is the Society’s Headquarters,” she pointed out. “They can’t just walk in and try to grab me. They have to go a little more carefully, don’t they?”
Justin shrugged. Her face fell; he cursed his own clumsiness. “I’ll take a look, Rowan. I know most, if not all, of Sigma’s procedures. I’ll ask a few questions. And if anything seems off, we’ll go to Henderson. All right?”
“You believe me?”
“Of course I do.” He made his tone flat and matter-of-fact. “If you told me the moon was made of green cheese, I’d get out crackers, angel.”
The smile that broke over her face made his chest ache with an entirely unphysical pain. “I’m glad you’re back.”
“Good. I promise I’ll keep Jilssen away from you.” Unease pricked at him. “Anything else?”
She shrugged, her fingers playing with the bedspread. “Nothing, I suppose.” But her eyes were dark. Something else, then.
“Are you sure?” He didn’t want to press—it wasn’t the time. But she looked so uneasy.
“Nothing. Just… before you left.”
Ah. He had to squelch a flare of comprehension—and satisfaction. That’s right, angel. You and I have unfinished business. “Before I left,” he echoed, finding enough energy to lean forward from the chair’s embrace.
“You… um, I… I mean, I…” It was such a novel experience to watch her flounder that Delgado allowed himself a few more moments, watching as she picked at the white bedspread.
“About that,” Delgado said, and her gaze flew to his face, the color draining from her cheeks. He didn’t have the heart to play with her, not when he wanted her this badly. “I meant every word, Rowan.”
The color rushed back into her cheeks, she dropped her eyes again. What do you know? I have an effect on her.
It was unexpectedly sweet. He wanted to savor it.
“It’s just… I… I mean, I…” She coughed, uneasily. “You…”
What exactly do you mean? He searched through every scenario he’d planned for and couldn’t quite figure out where this one fit. “It’s all right,” he said, trying not to look as if he was enjoying himself. “If it makes you uncomfortable, I’ll—”
“You said we had to talk.”
“We do.”
“What about?” Her hands twisted together.
“Us,” he said, and watched her gaze fly up to meet his.
“Why are you doing this? Everything?”
“I want to,” he said. Wait a minute, what are we talking about?
“I really like you,” Her eyes fixed on the floor, her cheeks crimson. “I really do.”
“I’m sorry this happened,” he said finally. “If I could have stopped it, I would have. I’d give anything to have your father back, and Hilary. For your sake.”
I should be talking to her about how dangerous it is to have everyone know what kind of magic she worked on Sheila. The thought went clean out of his head when she looked up, a tear-track showing on her pale cheek.
“Thank you.”
It was one of the few times in his life Delgado was speechless. Silence stretched between them, a not-quite-uncomfortable quiet. Finally, Rowan sighed and pushed herself up from the bed. “Henderson wants you for a briefing after lunch. And I want to check on—”
“Screw him.” Delgado sighed, raking his fingers back through his hair. “Look, Rowan, I—”
She smiled down at him. It literally took his breath away, made his chest feel tight.
Outside the window, winter sunlight bounced off a hard frost and the light blanket of snow covering the fields, the sky a depthless gray promising the storm the weather-sensitives had been muttering about. The light was good for her.
Hell, any light’s good for her. She’d even look good dipped in mud.
“He’s been tearing his hair out without you.” She shook her hair down from the messy knot. “How about I bring you some lunch?”
“Hey.” He caught her wrist as she moved past him. Immediately, his skin ran with an even sharper awareness of her. “I don’t want to talk to Henderson; I want to talk to you.”
She went still, her extraordinary eyes wide and fixed on him. “Justin.” Just the one word. Then she blinked. “Did you tell me your name?”
He shrugged. I don’t care, angel. “Call me what you like.” He made sure his fingers were gentle, controlled the impulse to pull on her arm and tumble her onto his lap. I’ve been a fucking saint, I deserve it. What do you say, God? I deserve something, don’t I?
The instant he thought it, he wanted to curse. He didn’t deserve a goddamn thing.
Rowan sank down slowly until she was crouched next to his chair, her wrist in his hand. “What’s wrong?” she asked, the shiny tear-track on her cheek mocking him.
“Nothing.” He lifted her hand and used his other fingers to trace a line in her palm. His calluses scraped against her softer skin. He touched her sensitive fingertips, the hollow of her palm. Her eyes half-lidded, she took a deep shuddering breath. “Forgive me?”
She looked stunned. “For what?”
“I didn’t guess the Sigs would move so fast. I should have.” He let out a long breath. I didn’t even know I was going to say that.
“It’s all right.” Her mouth drew down bitterly at the corners. “I forgive you.”
Slowly, deliberately, he slid his fingers through hers. Let go of her wrist and held her hand. “Okay.”
It wasn’t exactly what he wanted, but she stayed with him, holding his hand for a few moments before glancing at the clock and announcing, “I’m hungry. We need some lunch before you meet Henderson.”
Minx. I didn’t agree to that. “All right, sweetheart. You’re the boss.”
“Henderson’s the boss.” Now Rowan smiled slightly. That weak, tremulous expression made Delgado’s heart start to pound. “When he’s done, I’ll bring you back and tuck you into bed. We’ll have a nice long chat.”
“I’m a wounded man, missy.”
The smile turned into a full-fledged grin. “I’m a medical professional, sir. Are you objecting to my diagnosis?”
“Of course not.” His own mouth curled up to echo her smile.
“I’d love to have a nice long chat with you.
As long as you like.” How does she do that, make me feel human again?
He knew that when Henderson finished he’d be exhausted, and Rowan would too.
She was spreading herself too thin in the infirmary. They wouldn’t talk tonight.
But soon. Very soon.
“Great.” She took her hand back, but slowly, her fingers sliding against his. The intensity of her talent had become a warm blanket wrapping around him. Her pulse had quickened. He could feel it even across the space separating them. “I mean it, you know. Thank you.”
What is she thanking me for? I destroyed her life. “What did you say Henderson wanted me for?”
“Paperwork,” she said, rising slowly. How does she do that? How does she move like that, like silk?
“Oh, Christ,” he moaned. “No.”
“You’d better believe it. We’ve got just enough time to get something to eat. And the sooner you finish it, the sooner we can come back here.”
“You’ve got a way of putting these things,” he admitted, beginning the laborious process of hauling himself upright. “All right. Point me at the papers. Where do I sign?”