“You needed the sleep. And yes. Phone’s still out too.”
“I guess I did need it. I’m still tired.”
What game was he playing? Were they going to pretend she hadn’t messed around with his body? Well, that kind of didn’t surprise her. Most people repressed what they couldn’t explain. He’d convinced himself, no doubt, that it had been a figment of his imagination. She didn’t know if she was disappointed or elated, neither of which made sense.
“Genevieve.”
She couldn’t help but stiffen.You shouldn’t like the way he says your name.“What?”
“I’m sorry.”
She blinked. He was apologizing to her? “For what?”
“You know for what. I shouldn’t have said what I did. It was wrong and cruel, and I apologize. Can you forgive me?”
Genevieve studied him, looking for the catch. What the hell? His gaze was direct, his expression open. Sincerity dripped off of him. She couldn’t help but be suspicious. “What’s your angle?”
“No angle. I was wrong.”
She shrugged. “Fine.”
“Seriously. You saved my life, and I paid you back by treating you like I was scared of you.”
“You are scared of me.” She meant for the words to be low and a bit threatening, not the plaintive statement it came out as.
His response was instantaneous. “No. I was pissed when you did what you did, though I get that it was for my own good. But I knew from the start something was extraordinary about you, so I wasn’t completely blindsided. As I was lying here, my mind cleared and I was finally able to put all the pieces together.”
Extraordinary? “I took your strength away. Do you get that?”
“After you gave it to me, right?”
Yeah, that was the only way she’d been able to weaken him without it hurting her. If she’d weakened or injured him on purpose, she would have been charged a greater price. Still, he shouldn’t know that. “I’ve hurt people before. Your first reaction was right. Keep that in mind before you start romanticizing me.”
“You won’t hurt me.”
“What makes you think that?”
“I trust you.”
His words were so simple, they stunned her. “Why the hell would you go and do that?”
His brow furrowed. “I don’t know. There’s this…connection between us. Don’t you feel it?”
Yes. Hell, yes. “So you’re telling me on the basis of your…feelings…you’re going to decide I’m a trustworthy person. Despite the fact that I can do stuff that isn’t readily explainable. Is this how you do all your cop stuff?”
He smiled. “You mean, am I a naïve fool? I don’t think so. But I’m willing to bet my life you couldn’t hurt a fly.”
She froze. “Don’t.”
“What?”
“Don’t make that bet. You don’t know what I’ve done.”
He studied her, and his voice gentled, as if he were talking to a spooked animal. “Okay. How’s this? I bet you couldn’t hurt me. You saved me. You’re a healer, aren’t you? What else can you do?”
When she remained silent, he exhaled. “You don’t trust me. I’m really just interested. You know, I’m a Hispanic mutt. My dad was Puerto Rican. Mother is Columbian, Brazilian and Costa Rican. Our culture lives and breathes supernatural stuff. You don’t know how many stories I was told over the years about my grandmamma and my aunt. They were healers too.”
A spike of interest rose. She’d never met anyone, outside of her own family, with legitimate powers. “Yeah?”
