Page 19 of Love Op

I’d hoped it was true, of course. But you never knew with people like him. He was practical, well-trained, and largely devoid of emotion when on the job. I was certain he had to be. But then, in that pharmacy, he’d made a choice—he’d run away from me to find an AED for a dying old man rather than ensure his two-million-dollar payout stayed put, and that was how I knew for sure that Kael-the-Hot-Ghost-Guy wasn’t half as mercenary as he seemed.

Maybe.

I still had my doubts, but…

Maybe.

When Kael returned, he had a plastic shopping bag in his hand along with an electrolyte drink and a bottle of water. He handed me the blue drink, sliding back into his seat and shutting the door. “I took a guess and figured you for a blue girl.”

I studiously resisted the urge to look into his eyes that were a perfect match for an icy Christmas pond. “I love blue.”

“Good, drink all of that.” He put the bag in his lap and rifled through it before producing cold medicine. “And here is a package of daytime cold medicine. You’re welcome.”

I accepted the package that contained huge gel capsules that promised relief from cold and flu symptoms. “Thanks… Kael.”

He shifted an amused look my way. “You’re welcome, Bunny.”

I clicked my tongue. “Now that we are on a first-name basis, are you going to tell me what exactly you plan on doing with me?”

Kael set the bag in the back seat and returned his attention to me. His silver-streaked hair had caught droplets of misty rain along the tips, and he scratched his dusky upper lip as he thought. Finally, he said, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you aren’t much help to me right now even if I were to start investigating your parents.”

My eyebrows shot up. “Wrong way taken. I might be sick, but I can still talk.” As if mocking me outright, my traitorous body launched into a coughing fit that filled the quiet car with painful, hacking noises.

Kael reached back, unzipped his rugged, man-dude backpack, and then fished out the thermometer gun. Without another word, he pointed it at me, pulled the trigger, and waited two seconds for the beep. As the thing went haywire with irritating alarm beeps, he turned it wordlessly to face me.

104.5. Yikes.

Kael tossed it behind him. “Medicine. Sleep. Then we can talk.”

“How long are we driving for? Where are we going?”

“I told you—we’re meeting my operative and she has a van.” Kael started the car and zipped his seatbelt over his body.

I pulled my eyelids together in suspicion. “The plan is to take me to your creepy van? That’s rather disconcerting.”

“You’re disconcertingly sick, so take the medicine, and then,” he emphasized again, pulling the car into reverse, "we can talk.”

“You’re just snarly because I caught you being a good person,” I muttered, tearing into the medicine box.

“I am not snarly. And I’m not a good person—I don’t know where you keep getting that idea.”

“He said with a snarl,” I narrated under my breath. Kael rotated a look my way that brought to mind demon kings of the underworld, and I held up the medicine box like a shield. “Jesus, okay, sorry. I’ll take the meds and sleep.”

“Preferably without saying anything else that will make me regret helping you,” he added testily.

I smiled to myself. Snarly Ghost was on my side. Who would have thought.

Mattie had her first nightmare somewhere around Boise. I’d been driving for six hours straight, and I was thankfully wide awake and wired after making the dumbest decision of my career to help her. I popped a fruit candy in my mouth as we passed by muted suburb lights off the highway and glanced her way. Even in the semi-darkness, I could tell she was restless. She’d been slumped over in the same position for hours, her head lolling to the side on her shoulder and her seat as far back as it would go. But then her posture changed, and she stiffened, her breathing picking up in pace.

I looked her over, swirling the candy around in my mouth. She curled onto her side, fighting against the seatbelt, and seemed to shrink in on herself. Mattie was tall for a woman, hitting me at chin height even with my six-three frame. But watching her curl up, I suddenly thought she looked small and vulnerable.

She made a sound of distress, and I spared another fast look down at her. Her downy blond hair slid around the angles of her face, and she whimpered. Frowning, I looked back at the interstate, and seeing plenty of light and a populated area ahead, I flicked on my blinker and took the nearest exit. In the two minutes it took me to exit and find a gas station, Mattie had gone from quiet distress to full-body panic.

She sucked in air, fast and erratic, and under the yellow overhead lights in the gas station, I made out a sheen of sweat along her smooth forehead. I unclicked my seatbelt, leaning over to gently grasp her arm. “Mattie.”

She woke immediately, eyes flying open and breath freezing in her lungs. Her nutmeg brown eyes flew to mine, stricken and confused. I coasted my hand up her arm, my fingers sliding over soft jersey material, and I pressed the backs of my fingers against her neck to feel her fever. She felt so hot, I wondered if the medicine had brought it down at all. “Hey,” I said with more nonchalance than I felt. “You get caught in MacGregor’s garden or something?”

Mattie blinked rapidly, and then with a rattling cough that I felt deep in my own chest, she sat up like her joints were sore. She folded her arms in front of her tightly. “Sorry.”

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