Part 10 (2/2)
Del ran his eyes over the printout. His neck hurt and his bones ached from second-stage Zed withdrawal.
He ignored it.
”How much worse is it?” He glanced across the living room. Rowan was occupied with packing kitbags.
She took a sip of cold coffee, swirled it in her mouth, and grimaced, downing it as if it contained alcohol.
She was so pale her skin appeared almost translucent except for the faint flush that rose to her cheeks whenever her eyes met his.
He wondered what that meant.
He'd actually slept next to her last night, listening to the steady rise and fall of her breath as the party wound down and the others dropped off. When he had finally found himself relaxing despite the aching of withdrawal, he had even dared to turn his head and take a deep lungful of her. He'd tucked his coat around her because she'd looked cold. And this morning she'd been gone when he opened his eyes. That was a nasty shock, but he'd reached and found her concentrating on taking a shower. He'd retreated hurriedly back into his own head, glad she hadn't been aware of his quick brush. It made him feel like a voyeur-not so much because he'd done it, but because he wanted to crawl into her mind like a badger into its hole and stay there.
The General spared a brief grin. ”Actually this is the bad news. We've gained a lot in the last month or so-fourteen newbies. We've gone back to the decentralized training. Eleanor's got a bunch of them up in Calgary. She sent word back with Boomer that things are kosher up there. Everyone who was out and away from Headquarters survived largely intact, thank G.o.d.” Henderson's voice dropped. ”If it wasn't for Rowan we wouldn't have made it.”
”Ro!” Cath stuck her head in the living room. ”Zeke wants to know where you put the-”
”Bathroom, second shelf.” She nodded at Yos.h.i.+ and handed him his full kitbag. ”In the blue bottle. Tell him to leave some for the rest of us, and is he taking his meds?”
”You know how he is.” Cath rolled her eyes. There was a large, fresh hickey on the side of her neck, and her violet eyes were hooded and sleepy. ”Thanks.”
”No problem.” She flipped the messenger bag she was working on closed, handing it to Yos.h.i.+. Del watched, but the j.a.panese man didn't steal the chance to brush her wrist when he took the bag, didn't lean in toward her like Justin would have done.
That was very good.
”Rowan?” This time it was Brew. ”Need anything else?”
”Just another couple clips for Zeke's Walther, if you have any. Oh, and ask Justin what kind of hardware he needs.” She hunched her shoulders, shooting Del a guilty look. Her hands kept moving, swift and deft, taking the next canvas messenger bag, stowing the medkit, extra clips, pad of paper, the pen with the digital camera in the shaft, copper wire, Matheson handheld-all the little things no Society op should be without.
”Already did.” Brew tipped Delgado a wink and vanished, with Cath, back down the hall. If the danger came closer, into the critical zone, it was Brewster's danger-sense that would warn them to scramble.
Del's throat was dry. His body cried out for Zed. As long as he stayed near her it was tolerable-thered-hot ants didn't jitter so badly over his skin and he didn't feel like he was breathing through wet cloth.
The spikes of pain were distracting and intense enough to make him sweat, but still tolerable.
But take Rowan out of the room and suddenly everything got a lot worse. As object lessons went, it was extremely elegant. Something about being around her made the withdrawal easier. If he needed yet another reason to watch over her, that would have done it.
His jacket smelled like her now. It was an unexpected blessing, the faint scent of woman attached to the lining of his coat. Not just any woman, either; the only woman Del had ever...
”She's missed you,” Henderson said quietly. The table between them was a flimsy portable number, looking barely capable of holding the printouts and maps. The old man's wire-rimmed gla.s.ses gave a steely glint to match the white patch at his left temple. That white patch had grown, and Henderson himself looked older. The fine fans at the corners of his eyes hadn't been there before, nor had the slight weary shadows in his eagle eyes. ”I had to tie her down so she didn't go running off to 'rescue' you from Sigma.”
”Christ.” Del's blood ran cold at the thought, and his head started to pound. He wouldn't have been able to help her. ”I pushed myself to forget so they couldn't beat it out of me. I don't think they know what she can do.”
”I don't even think she knows what she can do. I mean it, Del. We had to d.a.m.n near kneecap her to keep her from raiding any Sig installation she could find on her own.”
Del's heart felt like it was cracking and throwing itself against his ribs at the same time. He flipped through a few more printouts, seeing none of them. So she wanted to come riding in and save me, huh? Well, that's something, at least. ”Glad you kept her from doing that.”
”You'd kick my a.s.s if you came back and found out I'd let her go.” Henderson's tone changed, became businesslike. ”They're sending Carson.”
Another chill walked down his back. ”Andrews told me.” That's why I got the h.e.l.l out of there.
”Andrews. How is the old b.a.s.t.a.r.d?”
He would have sent his greetings if he'd known I was on my way to meet you. The man's almost as fascinated with you as he is with Rowan.
”Just like Anton, as fine and sociopathic as ever.” Del s.h.i.+fted his weight and looked up, checking on Rowan again. Her head was down, she was packing the last kitbag as Yos.h.i.+ handed each implement to her. ”It's become personal. He'd love to get his hands on her.”
”Him and everyone else, huh.” Henderson started rolling up maps. ”Glad to have you back, Del. Listen, we've picked a new Headquarters. The nest egg Rowan brought back isn't as good as we hoped but it's adequate. I'll need you to start working through security procedures and help Yos.h.i.+ salvage whatever we can from the old resource net.”
Del blinked. Did they just expect him to step in where he'd left off? Didn't they understand he was a danger, that he could be a Sigma mole?
But no, Henderson had trusted him long ago in the dim days of Del's first escape, and never doubted him since. ”You should wait until you can trust me,” he said, harshly, watching Rowan roll her eyes as Yos.h.i.+ made a low comment. She laughed, grabbing for the coil of copper wire he held. He tried to move, but her hands were too quick. Her hair had begun to dry. Fine, slightly curling, strands fell into her face. Shesubtracted the roll of wire from him deftly. They looked very easy with each other.
Very G.o.dd.a.m.n friendly.
The old man shrugged. ”Would you drag Ro in to Sigma, see her shaved and full of Zed?”
”Christ, no.” He tried not to sound horrified. ”I pushed myself to forget so they couldn't use me against her.”
”There you go. Help me clean this up. What else can you tell me about Andrews?”
He wants her, badly. It's personal now. He won't stop hunting her down, might even go rogue.
”He's an idiot.” He reached down and started shoving the papers into manageable piles.
Henderson made a short, disgusted sound, acknowledging the humor. ”Well, G.o.ddammit, Del, I knew that.”
”Not a moment too soon,” Yos.h.i.+ murmured, his fingers flicking over the laptop's keyboard. ”Four SWAT teams. They must have a high opinion of us.”
”I didn't even know they had SWAT teams in Fargo,” Brew remarked from the driver's seat. He scanned traffic and changed lanes, the SUV moving smoothly.
Rowan s.h.i.+fted restlessly in the pa.s.senger's seat, a movement Del could feel in his own body.
”Henderson?”
”Henderson's clear. He and Boomer and the kids got out with two hours to spare,” Yos.h.i.+ said. ”They'll meet us in Des Moines. It's all over the television-an anonymous call tipped off the inquisitives at the news stations.” Yos.h.i.+ grinned and glanced over at Del. ”Wonder who would do such a thing.”
”Can't imagine,” he agreed. If there was one thing Sigma hated, it was publicity. They had used the local police force to do their dirty work this time, maybe thinking that deadheads wouldn't trigger Rowan's exquisitely sensitive antennae for danger. They might have been right. It had been Yos.h.i.+'s nervousness and Brew's insistence that they move on, and Henderson had agreed.
Del's entire body itched, his bones twisting with deep grinding pain as the chemical dependency yanked mercilessly on his nervous system. He was nauseated and shaking, but it wasn't as bad as it could have been, not as bad as he remembered from his first detox and certainly not as h.e.l.lish as when they had recently tried to use withdrawal to break him-as if he could have answered their questions about a woman he had forced himself not to remember. The feeling of being in the same room with Rowan, standing in the path of the lightning bolt of her talent, seemed to make it just bearable.
Only just, though.
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