“A nightmare,” she said, and it wasn’t a lie. “That’s all.”
He tugged her until she was almost under him. “I’ve got you. Sleep.”
Heart thudding in reaction, she put her hand on his shoulder, let him tuck her close, and tried to find sleep. The thoughts that had somehow awakened him, she shoved to the back of her mind. Suicide, she realized belatedly, would destroy Dev. He’d blame himself. That was simply the man he was—protective to the core. She’d have to find some other way to save him from the loaded gun that was her mind.
Because killing Devraj Santos was simply not on the agenda.
CHAPTER 44
Judd Lauren walked into the church that Father Xavier Perez called home and took a seat in the last pew, beside the guerrilla fighter turned man of God. After a moment of silence, the other man sent him a slow glance. “No questions today, my friend?”
“I thought I might give you a break.”
“And yet I see a question in your eyes.”
“The Psy won,” Judd said quietly. “In your corner of the world, the Psy won.”
They’d first met in a bar in a no-name town in Paraguay. Judd had been there to liaise with a contact who never showed. Xavier had been sitting on the bar stool next to his and, tongue loosened by tequila, had begun to talk. Back before he became a no-good drunk, the priest had said, he’d been a man with simple needs—but one who believed in fairness. And there had been nothing fair in the way the Psy had effectively shut out the humans in his region from any kind of trade with the neighboring sectors.
First, it had been a political protest. But things had quickly escalated . . . until the Psy had crushed the human rebellion so thoroughly that not even an echo remained.
Xavier gave a slow nod, his skin gleaming ebony beneath the soft church lights. “Yes.”
“And yet you believe in God.”
Xavier took several minutes to answer. “There was a girl in my village,” he said, his tone a caress. “Her name was Nina. She was . . . a bright light.”
Before, Judd wouldn’t have understood. Now he’d held Brenna, now he knew what it would do to him to lose her. “Did she die in the fight against the Psy?” The assassins had whispered into the village in the depths of the night, death their only agenda.
“We thought they might come,” Xavier told him. “We never imagined they’d be as brutal as they were, but we got our vulnerable out.”
Judd waited, knowing the story wasn’t over.
“Nina wouldn’t go. She was a nurse—she knew she’d be needed. She, like all of us, thought they’d rough us up some, leave us to lick our wounds.”
“That must’ve put you in one hell of a mood.”
Xavier’s lips curved. “I threatened to tie her up and throw her on the back of a donkey if that was what it took.”
“She stayed.”
“Of course. Nina was pure steel beneath that sweet surface—I figured that out when we were six.” The smile faded. “Then the Psy came, and I saw man after man fall, blood pouring out of their ears, their noses, their eyes.”
A huge burst of psychic power, Judd knew, could do that. “If they’d had a full Squad, they could’ve done the whole village at once.”
“Yes. But I suppose our little rebellion only merited two or three men. The ones who did come were powerful—ten men died in the first three minutes.” Soft words, Xavier’s hands remaining flat on his knees. “I managed to run Nina out through the jungle . . . and then I told her to jump in the river.”
Judd had seen that river, seen the crumbling remains of what had once been a thriving village. “It was the only way out.”
“It was a four-story fall—and Nina was never the strongest of swimmers.” Xavier’s hands curled, crushing the fabric of his white pants, part of the simple clothing of a Second Reformation priest. “But I promised her God would look after her, and then I kissed her good-bye. As she jumped, I prayed to God to keep her safe, to watch over her.”
Judd knew without asking that Nina had never been found. “Why didn’t you jump with her?”
“You’re a soldier—you wouldn’t have left either.” Xavier took a deep breath. “Turns out my head is harder than anyone knew. The Psy blast knocked me out, but I regained consciousness hours later.”
“A natural shield,” Judd said. “Pure chance that you had it, that it was tough enough to deflect the hit.” It was likely, he thought, that the Psy team had been using as little power as possible, because not even a natural shield could protect against a full telepathic blow. “You should be dead.”
“The assassins obviously didn’t bother to check to make sure I was—though I guess I was dead for the six months I spent drunk.” He spread his hands again. “You’re quiet, my friend.”