Page 15 of Heart of Danger
“What?” Mac echoed.
“Her face, goddamnit!” Jon tapped the screen, his finger making a little thud right on the glass right over the image of her face. “Look at it!”
Mac and Nick stared at the screen then at each other.What the fuck?
Jon gave a snort of disgust. “Jesus, observation skills zero, both of you. You know what I’m seeing? Nothing! That’s what I’m seeing.”
Mac and Nick glanced at each other again. Mac shrugged. “Hell if I know what he’s talking about.”
“She’s not afraid, you asshole!” Jon shouted. “I defy any human being, let alone a woman who is by all accounts a geek and is certainly not an operator, to be kidnapped, taken somewhere unknown, have the hood whipped off unexpectedly and sees your face and not shit herself with fright. Come on, you know what you look like. God knows you use it often enough to intimidate. It’s not working with her.Look, goddamnit!”
Mac looked. The screen shot showed Mac with his war face on while Catherine Young looked straight up at him. Her face showed exhaustion, vulnerability, tiredness. But not fear. No fear at all.
“Dude.” Jon turned to Mac. “You’re terrifying. I know you and know you’re one of the good guys. But shit—sometimes you scareme! Think about it. She’s not scared. She’s not taken by surprise by your ugly scarred mug. So—either she already knows what you look like or she falls into instant love. And I opt for Door Number One.”
“He’s got a point, Mac,” Nick said slowly, eyes were riveted to the screen. “No offense, but how can she see you suddenly and not run screaming? Particularly since basically she’s your prisoner. Can she—does she know you?”
That one Mac could answer. “Never seen her before in my life.”
“Then—there’s something there we’re not seeing, not understanding.”
The three men were silent.
“She saw a photo of you somewhere,” Nick said slowly. “That’s the only thing I can think of. That’s why she was prepared.”
“Negative.” Mac shot back sharply. “We’re fuckingghosts.”
No way. Certainly not in Mac’s case. There hadn’t been any Kodak moments during his childhood in foster homes. No one ever took a snapshot of him. Lucius has ruthlessly destroyed all documentary evidence of their existence in and out of the military. And when the Colonel did something, he did it thoroughly.
“Unless…” Jon began, a frown of concentration between his light brown eyebrows.
“Unless?”
“Well, crazy as it sounds, she’s saying the Colonel sent her.” He held up a hand. “Wait. I’m not saying shewassent by Lucius, I’m just sayingshe’ssaying Lucius sent her. And, well, just about the only explanation I can come up with for her reaction when she sees you for the first time is, ahm…”
“Lucius described me to her.” Mac kept his voice flat. “She knew what I looked like because Lucius told her what I look like. Which would mean that she’s right. Lucius is in Palo Alto. And in trouble.” He gritted his jaw muscles, looked at his teammates. “Code Delta.”
If they were goingto kill her, at least she was getting a last meal. A truly spectacular one, too. So good it might even be worth getting offed afterward.
Catherine would have sworn her stomach was so knotted up she would barely be able to choke down a few bites, but at the mere smell of the food, her stomach simply opened up like a door.
Maybe it was the animal in her, she thought, that wanted to live. The lizard part of her brain waking up, pushing for survival. She’d spent her childhood and teen years suppressing the lizard brain, believing her gift came from the unconscious. She never let herself be swayed by emotion, by need, ever.
And yet the scientist in her knew that was nonsense. Whatever it was that allowed her to read emotions, it wasn’t athingthat could be exorcised from her life. It could be suppressed for a while, sure.
She should know because she was the Queen of Suppression.
But when it came roaring back, it was so strong it was uncontrollable.
Maybe that was why she had reacted so very strongly to Nine. To Lucius Ward. He’d come into her life after a long period of repression. She’d immersed herself in her studies, cut herself off from most human relations—certainly from anyone who could evoke an emotional or sexual reaction—and thought she’d rid herself of her dragon.
But the dragon had come swooping back in on black and gold wings, breathing fire.
Her gift hadn’t become weaker through suppression, it had become stronger.
The clearest reading she had ever had in her life from another human being had been from patient Number Nine. Lucius Ward. Crystal clear, so specific it was as if she’d been handed written instructions for use.
All her other readings had been vague and cloudy. She could pick up on the major emotions—fear, hatred, hidden love, shame, ambition—like picking up on the loud bits of a symphony. Other emotions underneath had been harder to catch or to interpret.
