“His touch amplifies my healing. Together we can heal injuries much faster. That’s how we managed to save you.”
Her words echoed in his ears and that strange waking dream took root in his head. Kait’s hands had been pressed to his chest, while Cosky’s hands had covered hers, and that liquid pool of silver had flowed through their joined hands into his chest. Was that how they’d managed to yank him back from the dead? They’d joined forces? How, exactly, did that work?
Hell, he’d missed some crucial information by hiding himself away with his head stuck up his ass.
“Well, she’s in no immediate danger,” Rawls said, pulling back slightly to study her face. “We can afford to wait for Cos to return.”
As an added bonus, the delay gave him time to sell Faith on the idea. Considering her hard science background, he doubted she’d put much faith in metaphysical healing, so convincing her to participate might take some major persuading.
Of course, to sway her, he’d have to talk to her. He grimaced. Looking back, he’d bolted from his bedroom, and that tempting bed, and the even more tempting woman on top of it with all the zeal of a man who’d stumbled upon a leper colony. In his experience, women didn’t appreciate being treated like lepers, so before he could even start the persuading, he’d have to do some heavy apologizing and even more soothing.
“Okay . . . ” Kait paused, her focus zeroing in on Rawls again. “So how about we talk about you?”
How ’bout not.
Her eyes narrowed as though she sensed his resistance. “What happened to you out there? What’s going on?”
“Go ahead, Doc. Tell her. I dare ya,” Pachico said, smug amusement in his voice.
“Nothin’.” Time to make a speedy exit. “Look, darlin’. I need to fill Faith in on your talents.”
“You fucking coward.”
Pachico’s voice was farther away, but Rawls didn’t dare glance at him to see what the bastard was up to. Not with Kait in the room. Besides, in his current translucent condition, his ghost wasn’t much of a threat.
“Rawls!” Her foot started tapping.
How the hell was he supposed to fill her in on something he didn’t even understand himself? What if he admitted to Pachico’s haunting only to realize that the whole damn experience was a hallucination manufactured by his oxygen-deprived mind? No—he’d wait until he’d had a chance to talk to Wolf and find out what the man knew before he made an admission he couldn’t retract later.
“Not now,” he said quietly, relaxing as her eyes softened.
A loud, metallic clang echoed behind them. Startled, he and Kait swung around.
“I’ll be damned.” Pachico’s voice thinned, wavering in and out of range. “ . . . changes . . . the game.” His translucent form faded until it was barely visible.
Rawls walked over, dread congealing within him. On the other side of the counter, a good three feet from the sprawling cookies, sat the metal tray. Chocolate chip cookies surrounded it.
“How in the world . . .” Kait shook her head, a dumbfounded expression on her face. “Maybe the stack toppled.” She shook her head again. “But that doesn’t explain how the tray ended up way over there. It’s almost like someone threw it, but there’s only me and you in the room.”
Oh, there was another person in the command center. She just couldn’t see him. Rawls glanced toward Pachico’s transparent form, only to do a double take. At least up until a second ago there had been three of them in the room, but just like he’d done when Wolf had approached them out by the stream, Pachico had vanished.
* * *
Chapter Six
* * *
FROZEN ON THE bed, Faith stared at the door Rawls had just bolted through—the key word being bolted. He’d vacated the room with all the finesse of a virgin fleeing the scene of an orgy.
Well, that was unexpected.
What exactly was she supposed to make of his reaction? He’d fled with such intensity he’d left the stethoscope behind, still tucked beneath her shirt. Absently, she removed the instrument and laid it on the mattress beside her.
He’d been as caught up in the passionate moment as she’d been. It was easy enough to identify the signs of desire. His pupils had dilated. His face had hardened. A hooded, predatory expression had touched his eyes. Thick ribbons of red had delineated his cheekbones. And then there’d been his mouth. Those thin, mobile lips had even swelled slightly. He’d broadcasted his hunger with every inch of his face. There was no doubt in her mind he’d wanted her, craved her as much as she’d craved him. Nor did she doubt he’d recognized the indicators of arousal on her face.
Although you wouldn’t guess it from his awkward flight from the room, the man was sexually experienced. That had been abundantly clear all those months ago while she’d been swooning over him at the airport. He’d returned numerous admiring feminine glances with good-natured silent flirting. The man was comfortable around women.