“Don’t be.How do you feel?”
“Tired.”Even talking took too much of his limited energy; the darkness was closing in again.“Rowan.”
“I’m here.Rest.You’re going to be all right.”
He fell into darkness again before he could tell her what he needed, wanted, to hear.
CHAPTERTHIRTY
Zeke grumbled,but submitted to Rowan taking his pulse and blood pressure.Medical training was always in short supply around here, it seemed, and Rowan’s gift for calming people made her even more useful.
“You’re going to be fine,” she told him.
Catherine snorted.“He’dbetterbe.You nearly fuckin’ killed me, Zeke.”
“On that note…” Rowan ducked out of the curtained enclosure, leaving the two to their bickering.The aboveground infirmary was almost full and down the hall from Delgado’s room, which meant it was where Rowan spent most of her time.Her attendance at the classes was spotty at best, but the General gave her homework and she was learning to use her strange gift on sick, wounded, and traumatized people.
Just like at the mental hospital.
She checked on Sheila, who lay quietly sleeping, lank brown hair lifeless against the pillow.The last battle with the drug Sigma had pumped into her veins had taken its toll on both patient and nurse, but Rowan suspected she was very near to victory.She could almost taste, almostsee,how to focus her gift to transmute the horrible physiological addiction back into normal health.
Henderson was very pleased with that news.
Pale, pearly winter sunlight washed the entire infirmary in shades of blue and white.Electronic beeps from monitors sang their usual song.Her boots squeaked against the linoleum.The smells of disinfectant and sickness mixed with the sweetness of strawberry incense Catherine lit, and ozone from the air purifiers.
Her legs felt a little shaky from the punishing run she’d taken that morning, pounding on the track with only the sound of her own harsh breathing to keep her company.It was a blessing to find out she could still run—and that the effort made all the fear and worry go away.
Except for the worry abouthim.
She checked on Justin as she walked past, then stopped, her hands on her hips.“And just what do you think you’re doing?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”Justin hissed in a breath as he pulled his sweater over his head.Three white bandages glared against his torso, muscle rippling under his skin.The IVs were gone, but he was still wounded.He was lucky none of the three bullets had hit bone, even more lucky that his heart and lungs hadn’t been damaged, and that one of the two surgeons at Headquarters could extract all three without Justin coding on the table again.All in all, it was a miracle he was still alive.“I’m getting dressed.I can’t take it anymore.”
“Get back in that bed,” she ordered, as he pulled the sweater down, smoothing over his bandages.“You are the stubbornest man I know.”
“Is that a compliment?”He gave a lopsided smile, hazel eyes warming for a brief second.Rowan approached, hands still on hips.
“Get in that bed, Justin Delgado.Now.”
He complied.She pulled the covers up, and his gaze moved over her face.
“I hate bedrest,” he complained.“I’m missing out on training.I’m going to get sloppy.”
“Not likely.Now I’m going to take your blood pressure, and you’re going to stay put like a good little boy.I’ll come back and read to you, and you can take a short walk this afternoon if youreallywant to.”
“Of course I do; I hate lying around.”He looked up at her as she took his blood pressure.“How am I doing?”
“110 over 60,” she said.“Good.You’re relaxed.”
“Not really.”He caught her wrist, and a wave of heat slid up to her shoulder, dipped down her entire body.“Are you busy?”He let go of her wrist as she stepped closer.
“Not so busy I can’t spare a few moments.”Rowan dropped into the chair by the side of his bed, settling her stethoscope and folding up the blood-pressure cuff.“Is something wrong?”
“Just wanted to talk to you.”
Her pulse sped up, pounding in her wrists and throat.“What about?”
“Kenwood tells me you spent the entire mission in Central, listening.”He examined her face.
