Frustration swelled, a thick clout of tension in his chest. Yet avoiding the hub was a false hope. If he didn’t show up, his teammates would come looking for him. Likely Kait and Beth too. As much as he’d tried to avoid it, to protect everyone, his mere presence would place everyone in immediate danger.
Even more maddening was the fact that they wouldn’t believe him any more than Faith had. At least until the first shot was fired.
His best bet was to drop Faith off, and get the hell out of there. Return to his original plan of avoiding everyone in favor of lurking in the woods. But to do that, he needed to pass through that cave. It was the only passage to the outside world now that all access points behind him had been blown.
He stared at the radiant cavern and the shadowy figures drifting around within. Knowing his teammates and company protocol, the damn place would be bristling with weapons. A virtual treasure trove to a disgruntled ghost.
Swearing beneath his breath so as not to awake Faith, who’d taken to dozing against his chest, he backed up, dragging Pachico away from that shiny beacon of peril.
It made more sense to let his buddies come to him. It would be easier to monitor a couple of weapons rather than dozens of them. He would explain the situation to Zane and Cosky—maybe Mac—and let them explain it to the rest.
Jude stepped into the mouth of the cave, his big body blocking the spill of light, his silhouette a hulking, menacing shadow.
Wolf and Jude shared similar ancestry. Did that mean he’d be as open to the possibility of ghosts as his gruff commanding officer?
“Goddamn you,” Pachico yelled as he stumbled backward. “How about you stop being a fucking jackass, and I’ll leave your girlfriend alone?”
Faith stirred, her head lifting.
Jude’s hand went to his chest. Suddenly he stepped out of the cavern and headed toward Rawls.
“I’m serious, you fucking shithead. Don’t think I won’t—”
Pachico abruptly disappeared.
What the . . . ?
Rawls froze, scanning the tunnel ahead. No, it hadn’t been a trick of his beleaguered imagination. The bastard really was gone. And the dematerialization had been sudden too, without any of the normal triggers.
Except . . . his mind flashed back to that moment at the stream with Wolf. Pachico had blinked out then too.
He turned his head and stared at Jude, who was rapidly approaching. What the fuck? Did the Arapaho nation possess some secret weapon that jettisoned ghosts?
“What’s wrong?” Faith asked, her voice thick and sleepy and sexy as hell. “You look angry.” She turned her head, following his gaze to Jude, and stiffened slightly in his arms. “You can put me down now.”
When her demand penetrated his mind, Rawls’s arms instinctively tightened. The most absurd fear had struck at the thought of letting her go, as though the only thing anchoring her to life was the strength of his arms. Which was ridiculous—her heart had been beating on its own when he’d picked her up.
He hadn’t been the one to drag her back into the land of the living—Kait had done that.
“I’m serious, Rawls,” she hissed, jabbing him in the chest with her elbow. “This is embarrassing.”
When he didn’t release her, she struggled in earnest, which raised the alarming question of whether his hold was bruising her. His stomach twisted at the possibility of hurting her, so he reluctantly released her and lowered her to the ground. She wavered there for a moment under his steadying grip, and then her legs took control.
Her relieved sigh when her muscles kicked in was loud—hell, probably loud enough for Jude to hear—and then she got to work straightening her clothes. The smoothing, tucking, and tugging went on so long it got downright amusing. His irritation dissipated beneath the rising humor.
“Darlin’,” he said around the edges of a grin. “Much more of that and your knickers are liable to file harassment charges.”
Her hands froze. Bright red swarmed her cheeks. She looked so uncomfortable and lost standing there, her hands clenched at her sides, uncertainty swimming in her eyes, that the urge to laugh vanished.
“Hey!” He framed her face and kissed her forehead, the tenderness rising so thick and fast he thought he might drown beneath it. “You’re perfect the way you are. No need for fussin’.”
She relaxed beneath his hands and leaned against him, pressing her mouth against his throat. Her lips were soft against his skin, silky . . . hot as hell. They burned the tenderness right out of him. His hands dropped to her hips and pulled her hard against his crotch.
As his head lowered, his mouth searching out hers, a loud cough sounded beside them. Faith broke away with a startled gasp, as though they’d been caught doing something shameful.
Well, hell . . .
Rawls looked up with a scowl. Looks like he had two bones to pick with the Arapaho warrior. He got right down to the first one. “You want to tell me why Pachico vamooses when you or Wolf show up, but not when anyone else is nearby?”