“I think so.”The unreality of the situation walloped her.Her nape prickled, just as it had right before the men in black—he called them Sigs—had burst into her house and killed her father.
I’m taking all this as a matter of course, aren’t I?Nausea rose again.
“Stay close to me,” Delgado said quietly.“And, Rowan, no matter what happens, Iwillfind you and make sure you’re all right.Okay?”
She found her dry throat would barely work.“All right,” she husked.“But what if?—”
“But nothing.If Sigma manages to get their hands on you, you just hold tight and wait for me.I’ll come for you.”
“Let’s go.”The tingling, prickling feeling of danger now ran down her back in waves.“I don’t feel so good.”
“I’m not surprised.Here, your purse.”
She took it with numb fingers.He took the red sweater, bending down to stuff it in the suitcase at his feet.“Justin?”
“Hmm?”He took one last look out into the parking lot and then picked up the suitcase, straightening.“Just stay close to me, that’s all.”He sounded as if he was reminding himself, not her.
Why are you doing this?But she knew why.She was valuable to their Society because of the freakish things she could do.Valuable to these other people too.Sigma.The people who shot and kidnapped and killed.
Who are they, really?“What does Sigma stand for?”
“Standard Integrative Intelligence Growth and Management Agency,” he said.“Go figure, right?You ready?Let’s go.”
She followed him out the door and down an indifferently-carpeted hall.The elevators were to the right, but he chose the stairs instead.“Harder to get caught,” he murmured, as if reading her mind.“Stairs you can get off at any floor.An elevator—well, they can just pull a wire and have you trapped between floors.”
Rowan’s mouth was desert-dry.“How can you think of all these things?”
“Training.Wait a second.”He stopped short, and Rowan froze.
Prickles ran up and down her back.She felt a headache beginning at the base of her skull, tightness turning into pain.“It hurts.”
“You’re getting more sensitive.It happens.Just take a deep breath.”
Rowan reached out and grabbed his free hand.The electric prickles of his touch raced through her, up her back, chasing away the nausea and pain and replacing both with a strange light sensation—her heart hammering and her head spinning instead of hurting.
He started again, pulling her down the stairs, his feet soundless.She tried to stumble along quietly behind him, failing miserably.The electric feel of his skin against hers intensified.She could tell he was concentrating on something.
“What are you doing?”
“Trying to keep us hidden.You’re like a magnet, Rowan.A big one.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry.”He squeezed her fingers slightly, ran his thumb over the inside of her wrist.“It’s easier with you touching me.Just be calm, angel.”
Irritation rasped at her.“You keep calling me that.”
“I do,” he confirmed, as they reached the ground floor.“Hang on.”
She waited, looking at his broad back as he peered out the small window set in the metal door between the stairwell and the lobby.
He cursed in a whisper, his fingers tightening on hers again.“Stay still.Breathe deep.Pretend you’re invisible.Can you do that?”
Rowan shut her eyes.I’ve been doing that since I was four years old.She concentrated.
She dimly heard him let out a sharp breath.
I’m not here.Ignore me.Your eyes slide right by me.
