His heart sank.She had never called him that before he’d been captured.“What?”The pain in his bones taunted, hard.He laid his hands flat on the table.
If he pressed down on varnished wood, she wouldn’t see how badly they were shaking.He checked the restaurant again; the back of his neck was prickling.Plate-glass windows with dusty posters, the staff going about their pizza duties, cigarettes burning in the smoking section.
“Can I… I mean, your arm.May I help you with the bruises?”
What?“Sure, angel.”He felt his eyebrows rise.“Do I have to take my coat off?”
She flushed, gazing intently at the table.“No, that’s not necessary.I’ll climb in the back seat with you when we hit the road again.But until then…” Her fingertips met Delgado’s wrist.
He was about to turn his hand palm-up to take hers, but the sensation—a palpable wash of peace starting at the crown of his head and sliding down, coating his skin with liquid heat—nailed him in place.Fire roared through his veins.He felther slipping through the surface of his mind, but it wasn’t the agony of his own talent burning and ripping even as it served his purposes.
Instead, every bloodstained moment of his life was washed clean, as if she had taken all the pain from him for a brief moment, both the physical sensations and the agony of a battered mind stretched to its limits.When she removed fingers he had to once again restrain himself from reaching out and grabbing her hand.
She hadn’t managed to keep herself completely separate during the touch.The complex wash of emotion from her—relief that he was alive, uncertainty, worry and a powerful crimson-colored guilt—was underlaid with that same strong, clear, pure feeling he hadn’t been able to put a name on before.He’d never encountered anything similar.
Getting addicted to that feeling would make Zed look like a cakewalk.
Still, it meant she was still emotionally attached to him.He could use that attachment, worm his way back into her good graces and see if he could get a little closer.His hands had quit shaking.
“Rowan—” he began, his voice rusty and hoarse.
Brew slid into the other side of the booth, carrying a tray with four glasses.“Diet Coke, root beer, plain Coke, and plain Coke.Take your pick.”
She picked diet Coke, Del took plain Coke, and by the time Yoshi returned the conversation had turned to pizza as the perfect food.Brew was a vocal champion, Rowan a passionate detractor—due to the amount of cholesterol in the melted cheese—and Yoshi weighed in, as usual, with a hymn to the wonders of sashimi.He didn’t seem to mind Del sitting next to her.
Del just sipped his Coke, watched her grow more animated.He kept an eye on the front of the restaurant and moved a little closer in the booth, almost smiling each time she accidentally elbowed him.
To hell with being fair, or with playing nice.Heneededher.If he had to add the sin of manipulation to a long list of crimes in the service of fighting Sigma, he was more than happy to do so for her safety.
That’s the thing,he thought as the pizza arrived.I’ve turned into the monster Anton talks about all the time: a rogue freak.I don’t care what happens so long as she’s safe.
She elbowed him again, and gave a quick sideways look of apology.Del had to take a deep breath and restrain himself from sliding a proprietary arm over her shoulders.
CHAPTER19
Rowan sat straight up,her entire body cold and prickling-wet.She gasped, reaching out to ward off danger, and found her hand caught in slim, strong fingers.
“It’s only me,” Yoshi said.“Light.”And with that warning, he flicked the bedside lamp.
“What’s wrong?”She almost choked over the words, and then saw Justin.He was repacking her bag, swift and efficient.Brew was gone.She almostreachedfor him, but that would disturb the portable dampers.
The motel room had two queen-size beds.Justin had elected to sleep on the floor, over her faint protest; Brew and Yoshi took the other bed.A hideous painting of a lighthouse leered from above the television.
“Something’s not right.”Yoshi was pale under his coppery coloring.“Brew had a nightmare and I think we’re being followed.Here.”He shoved a pile of clothes into her hands.“Del thinks something’s up too,” he added, apparently certain that was enough explanation.
It was.
Justin zipped the duffel closed.“This is the last one.Get down to the car.If anything jumps, just go, I’ll get her out.”
Yoshi nodded.“Hurry,” he said, and left at a pace too quick to be called walking but not quite an undignified dash, taking Rowan’s bag with him.Justin followed him to the door opposite the curtained window, and checked the hall.
The other bed was rumpled.Rowan swung her legs out, shivered.It was chilly in the room, a cold far more than physical.
“What do you think it is?”What a stupid question, Rowan.It’s Sigma, that’s what it always is.Won’t this ever stop?
“Probably Carson and his lapdog.”He shut the door quietly, precisely.“Hurry, angel.”
The pizza churned in her stomach as she ran for the bathroom.Yoshi had left her comb, a pair of jeans, a button-down shirt, and her kitbag.She could stuff her tank top and shorts into the last on the way down to the car.
