“What?”She paused at the end of his bed, looking back over her shoulder.
“Thank you.Come back soon.”
She nodded, then hurried away before she made a fool of herself.
Dr.Jilssen was poring over charts at the nurse’s station.“Ah, Rowan!Just who I wanted to see!”He blinked behind his thick glasses, his thin face pricked with color high along his saw-like cheekbones.He set the charts down, one liver-spotted hand trembling slightly.“How is Delgado?”
“Feeling his oats, Doctor.”Rowan forced a smile.Her skin crawled, like it always had since Justin had left and Jilssen had started actively pursuing her.He doesn’t mean any harm.He’s just old, and he’s one of those doctors that doesn’t like messy human beings and has a horrific bedside manner.“What can I do for you?”
“Oh, we haven’t seen you in class or down in the Research Division for a week.”Dr.Jilssen’s eyes twinkled behind the Coke-bottle lenses.There was a soup stain on his tie—looked like tomato.Rowan’s teeth set together tightly.“I know you’ve been busy working on Sheila, but I was wondering if you’d come down and test a telem rig for us.”
“I don’t know, doctor.I’m very busy with the patients.”
“I’m sure someone else can look after them for a little while.”The doctor reached as if to pat Rowan’s arm.
She skipped back, her elbow striking a vase of tiger lilies someone had brought in.Which would have crashed to the floor, but she managed to catch it in time, water sloshing, splashing the counter.
Dr.Jilssen squeaked and whisked the charts out of the way.She managed to get the vase back up on the counter and stepped back nervously when Jilssen tried to touch her shoulder, maybe in clumsy reassurance.
“Sorry,” Rowan said, not feeling very sorry at all.“Look, I have to go.”
With that, she backed down the central aisle, away from the nurse’s station.“Rowan?”Dr.Jilssen peered at her, obviously perplexed.
Rowan’s entire back started to crawl.She turned on her heel and began walking quickly away.What’s wrong with me?What’s going on?
She didn’t even hear Justin say her name.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-ONE
It tooka 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.
