“Faith.” He paused to calm his breathing. “You don’t know what they’re askin’. You don’t—”
“I think I do.” Her voice was very quiet and far too determined. “I think I know exactly what they’re suggesting. They’re suggesting I come along and sync with the prototype if it’s operational.”
Okay, so she had picked up on what they were asking of her. But damn it, she didn’t know what she was getting herself into. Rawls raked a hand through his hair, shocked to find his heart hammering like he was fighting for his life. Hell, he was sweating like a stuck pig too. He could feel his shirt sticking to his back.
“You don’t have CQB trainin’, you don’t—”
“She will be protected,” Wolf broke in, his normally inscrutable face softened by sympathy, except he was looking at Rawls, not Faith.
“You can’t protect her from everythin’.” He could hear his voice rise, but he was powerless to stop it. “All it takes is one stray bullet. One moment of inattention. She’s not trained for this. You have no damn right to drag her into the field.”
And for the first time since—well since that other life, when he’d still had a sister and family—panic struck. Strangled him with fear. His breathing hitched, his heart pounding so hard he could hear it in his head.
He’d just found her, Goddamn it. Barely had her back from the dead. He wasn’t going to lose her so soon. Fuck, he wasn’t going to lose her ever.
What the hell?
Where did that come from?
“What about what I want?” she asked, her gaze locked on his face as though they were the only two people in the room. “Those were my friends they murdered in the lab. My friends are being held by a group of monsters who treat people like disposable objects. Who jeopardize children for the sake of their own agenda. If there’s even the slightest chance that my presence could help bring these monsters to justice, then I’m doing it.”
Before Rawls had a chance to launch another argument, the elder from the ghost binding stood up. He nodded to Faith, and turned to face Rawls.
“The decision is Dr. Ansell’s. She alone has the final say,” he said with finality. “She goes.”
* * *
Chapter Eighteen
* * *
THE LAST THIRD of the meeting with Wolf’s people was a blur in Faith’s mind as she entered the sleeping quarters Wolf showed her to. She’d been too busy having a mental meltdown after agreeing to accompany them on the rescue mission. A very dangerous operation too, judging by Rawls’s violent reaction.
Vaguely, she remembered a discussion about some organization called the New Ruling Order, which sounded like a bunch of rich people with too much time and money on their hands. And then Eric Manheim’s name had popped up as the force behind the attempted hijacking of flight 2077, as well as the attack on Amy Chastain’s family and the murder and kidnapping of Faith’s coworkers.
Not that anyone but Rawls, Wolf, and Wolf’s people knew the information had come courtesy of interrogating a ghost! When pressed by Mackenzie, Wolf had blandly attributed the intel to classified intelligence. It had been all Faith could do to hold her tongue; Mackenzie and his men deserved to know where the information they were about to risk their lives on had come from.
Except . . . Rawls had been so terribly stiff beside her, furious that she’d agreed to join them on the upcoming rescue mission. She hadn’t wanted to chance souring the fragile new relationship budding between them.
Wolf had been utterly confident that they’d have confirmation of the “captives,” blueprints of the building, as well as head counts of the people inside, within twenty-four hours.
Twenty-four hours . . .
Which meant what, exactly? That she’d be down in San Jose sometime tomorrow preparing to attack a lab?
A chill washed down her spine and prickled across her scalp. She shivered, but then squared her shoulders and headed for the bathroom. A nice hot shower was just the thing to relax her. It sure as heck beat standing around and stewing about things she had no control over.
The bathroom carried the same bland, unoccupied-motel motif as the bedroom and its tiny attached living room. But at least the shower had a huge round showerhead and wonderful water pressure. She soaked for a long time beneath the spray, letting the beat of the water massage her tight, sore muscles. By the time she stepped out of the tub and wrapped herself in a cotton robe, her muscles were limp.
Her mind on the other hand had revved up rather than dialed down.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, she listened to the strong, even beat of her new miracle heart and fought the sense of isolation.
With the exception of a fling early in her freshman year of college with a grad student, which had ended with summer break, she’d spent much of her life alone, buried in her studies or experiments. But loneliness had never haunted her, until now.
Except, she wasn’t lonely for just anyone, there was a specific face attached to this emotion. A specific name.