Chapter 35
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
“Would you look at that,” Henderson said.
“Makes you want to sing, don’t it.” Delgado’s mouth twitched into a half-smile.
Below the observation deck, the shooting gallery resounded with gunfire. Three of the twelve lanes were taken—two by members of Annika’s team, and the third by Rowan and Brew.
Rowan nodded at something Brew said, lifted the Glock in one clean motion, and squeezed off six more shots in a row. Then she glanced at Brew, smiling. The tall man hit the button to bring the target to their booth, and then gently clapped her on the shoulder. She must have done well.
Brew was a patient, careful teacher.
“I don’t know what you did,” Henderson continued, “but good work. Kate tells me she’s never seen such intense focus from a trainee. And Catherine tells me she’s doing all right on the decks. Knows enough to get out of the fuckin’ way, I believe was Cath’s estimation of her skill.”
Justin shrugged. “Rowan’s doing it all. Not me.”
“How did you convince her to take classes again? She’s up for graduation. Kate says there’s nothing more she needs except field experience.” The old man leaned against a concrete pillar, watching as Brew clipped another target in and hit the button. Rowan, her fingers moving quickly, reloaded.
Delgado’s mouth was dry. He shifted slightly to ease his sore shoulder.
He’d run a new batch of recruits through a training course last weekend and taken a stray amateur shot; Rowan had been invaluable during the entire class.
“I didn’t ‘convince’ her. I just kind of put the question to her in terms she could understand. ”
Admit it, Delgado. You have no idea what suddenly made her snap out of it, unless it was tumbling into bed with you. Have I infected her with my own anger?
“Well, whatever you did, it’s working. Yoshi’s got a kit all ready for her. How’s she coming along in combat training?”
“Okay.” He watched her lift the gun, take her stance habitually, felt the fierce one-pointed concentration spreading from her.
The observation deck was far above the lanes, and bulletproof.
He could see everything going on down there, but still, he was nervous.
The thought of her around that much live fire made his spine go cold.
“She still flinches. I don’t think she’s ready. ”
“If she’s not ready now, she won’t ever be.” Henderson’s gaze was on him. “You’re not letting your emotional involvement jeopardize her training, are you?”
“Of course not.” I’m lying, call me on it. I don’t want her out there, General. Not even with a whole team’s worth of backup. “Fuck it. Look, I want her on standby. Permanently.”
“Reason?” Henderson’s iron-gray eyebrow arched, thin mouth quirking.
“If she goes out, I’ll have to spend half my time worrying about her,” Delgado admitted. “Adding her to the team will diminish my capability.” The words felt odd in his mouth. He would never have admitted this if he had to look straight at the old man.
They both watched as Rowan fired a few more times, just like a pro, her stance braced but easy. He would have been proud of her skill, except that every day brought her closer to becoming a full-fledged operative.
“I don’t believe that.”
“You want to hang someone’s life on it?” Delgado shifted his weight, his eyes dropping down to follow Rowan as she checked the gun and racked it.
She and Brew went about cleaning up the booth.
Brewster made a comment and she laughed, the sound echoing sharply off the gallery’s walls. “I’d like her on standby.”
“Overruled,” Henderson said. “I’m sorry, Del. She’s good for the team, and you’ve never cracked under pressure before. You’ll do fine.”
“As long as you’re aware I’m going to be looking out for her.”
“How would that be any different than Zeke and Cath? This isn’t Sigma, Del. We don’t split up budding relationships.”
“It’s not budding anymore.” He saw Brewster touch her shoulder as they headed for the safe zone.
She didn’t flinch. Instead, she laughed, covering her mouth.
Even through the safety glasses and earpieces she was gorgeous.
Today she wore a blue tank top with a picture of a Buddha, borrowed from Catherine, and a pair of worn jeans.
Now that he knew what her skin felt like against his fingers, knew what it was like to sink into her and feel the clean depths of her mind closing over him, her body tightening around him as she cried out softly, arching her back, it was even more difficult to keep his mind on his work.
Or anything else, for that matter.
“You think you need to tell me that? I could set my clock by you, Delgado. All I have to do is find out where she’s gonna be.
They’re calling you ‘Rowan’s shadow’ now.
” Henderson waved him away. “Go on, you’re due in combat training with your lady love.
Go work it out. I’ll see you in briefing in three hours. ”
“Briefing for what?” Delgado uncoiled himself and stalked toward the door.
“The next job, what do you think? There’s a Sig installation in Florida we’re going to take a look at. We’ve also got some field testing that needs to be done, and Kate thinks Rowan can help.”
Delgado looked back over his shoulder. “Don’t wreck my reputation, General.”
“Ha. Wild horses won’t drag your little secret out of me, I promise. Get me that workup on the Grollard facility, will you?”
“Ten-four.” Del closed the door to the observation deck and stood for a moment, his hands flexing into fists.
Christ, what have I done?
He’d maneuvered her into wanting to be an operative to give her something to care about, pull her out of that numb grief of hers. Now he was seeing the consequences. Would he be able to protect her?
Then the deeper, mocking voice of his conscience spoke up. What, you thought she wouldn’t ever come out and play as an operative? You thought she’d never reach this point?
The thing was, he hadn’t thought she’d reach this point so fast. She’d thrown herself into being a trainee instead of a neophyte with such fierce determination, it made him a little uneasy. What would happen once she channeled all that energy into fighting Sigma? She was likely to become obsessed.
I’m a fine one to talk about obsession. He set off for the transports.
The transport was empty, since the gallery was at the farthest edge of Headquarters. He leaned against the wall and ran through Rowan’s training in his head, one more time.
Kate said there was nothing more to teach her. Brew let her rack her own gun. Catherine had given her grudging stamp of approval, and Yoshi had a kit all ready for her. And Del?
I don’t want her anywhere near an operation. I don’t want her shot at, or trying to open a door while the Sigs bear down on us, I don’t know how she’ll act under pressure.
Except he did. She would be as clear-eyed and calm as he trained her to be. It was up to him.
“Christ,” he muttered.
When he reached the dojo he was in a fine black mood. Rowan was waiting—or not exactly. She was in the same tank top and a pair of loose black silk pants, sparring.
With Ellis, whose lanky frame was wrapped in a white gi.
Ellis was one of Blake’s surviving team members, one who didn’t need training. He was good in a fight, quick and vicious. Delgado almost wanted to stride across the room, wrench her away and yell, What do you think you’re doing?
Instead, he faded into the shadows by the entrance from the men’s locker room to watch, driving his nails into his palms.
Rowan balanced lightly, weight evenly distributed. Ellis moved in on her, not precisely rushing, but quickly enough that she stepped back, grabbing his wrist and socking her hip into his midriff as he flew, hitting the mat perfectly, bouncing up.
Rowan evidently expected that, because she relaxed, her back to Ellis, a smile on her face.
Then he grabbed her.
Delgado’s heart leapt into his throat.
One strike, two—Rowan’s body moved without thought, stamping on Ellis’s foot, driving her elbow into his midriff until the breath whooshed out of the tall man. He didn’t let up, though, dragging her backward, and Delgado took a step forward. If she starts to panic—
She kicked, then went still, luminous eyes flaring.
Ellis dropped her. “Ow!” he yelled, shaking his hand out. She’d bitten him.
Rowan whirled, her knee coming up. He barely fended her off. Then he instinctively threw an elbow—and caught her in the face.
Rowan went down hard, and Delgado was striding across the floor, rage hot under his skin.
Then she leapt to her feet. Blood dripped down her upper lip, she threw four punches in a row, Ellis shuffling back, blocking. But Del could see how much it cost him, how he was scrambling to stay ahead.
This has gone far enough. Delgado didn’t break stride. Ellis’s gaze flicked up past Rowan’s shoulder, saw him coming, and she was on him in that instant, driving her opponent to the ground and giving him a short jab to the ribs for good measure.
Blood flew—her blood. From her nose. Maybe it was even broken.
“Got you!” she crowed, legs tangled with Ellis’s. “Ouch. Ow!”
Delgado set his heels, grabbed her arm, and hauled her upright. Ellis rolled, arrived standing in ready stance. Del ran his gaze over the man, noticed he was wincing. He’d be bruised. Rowan had gotten in a few good shots.
“I don’t recall putting you on the roster,” Del said mildly enough, as if his fury wasn’t painting the air red.
“I was early; Ellis offered to give me a bout.” Her eyes were shining, the tank top spotted with blood. More dripped from her nose—at least it wasn’t a gusher. “I got him!”
“Good for you,” he said, hating himself for what he was about to do. “Think you could take me? Sigs work in pairs, and they won’t give you a chance to catch your breath.”
The challenge in his tone was something new, and he was sure his eyes were flat and cold.
I can’t do this.