Page 42 of I Dream of Danger
Jon shook his head and turned gratefully when the door opened. Mac walked in, arm around his wife. His pregnant wife. The pregnant wife Nick had woken up. Both men were now glaring at him. Catherine McEnroe was an incredibly special woman, and Mac wasn’t happy that she’d had her rest interrupted. Even pregnant, she worked tirelessly as a doctor taking care of their little community. So, yeah, interrupting Catherine’s sleep was a big no-no.
Everyone treated Catherine with kid gloves. Even Nick, who liked her and respected her. But Elle—Elle trumped Catherine any day.
He didn’t give a shit about anyone’s sleep if Elle was in danger.
“Elle,” he repeated, his voice raw.
“L?” Mac asked, frowning. “The letter?”
Jon took it up. “L for link? L for lonely? L for?—”
“Elle.” It was the only thing he could say. His head was going to blow up. Every single danger hormone in his body was awake with nowhere to go. He was a guy built for action, and he always knew which action to take. To be so primed, so pumped, so fucking scared and dying to race to the rescue but have no idea where was driving him batshit crazy.
His fingers beat a harsh tattoo against his thigh and his foot was tapping. Jon, Mac and Catherine simply stared at him. He knew what they were thinking—Nick Ross agitated? Scared? What was that about?
Nick didn’t do agitated and scared.
“Nick,” Catherine said gently, and took his shaking hand in both of hers. Mac tensed. Everyone knew Nick didn’t like being touched. But this wasn’t someone he didn’t know entering his personal space. This was Catherine, and her touch…soothed. Calmed him, just a little.
She held onto his hand, watching his eyes. After a moment she nodded. “It’s her, isn’t it?”
His head jerked awkwardly, neck stiff with tension.
Catherine had something. He didn’t know what, nobody knew what really, but she had…something. If she touched you, she understood you. And lately, if she touched you, you felt better. Which explained why her husband, Mac, the toughest, meanest son of a bitch on the planet, was walking around with a goofy grin on his hard, ugly, scarred mug.
Nick had wondered about that. About being married to someone like Catherine. Someone who understood you inside out with a touch. Understood you and loved you.
Elle had loved him. It had been clear in her eyes, her voice, her face. She’d loved him and he’d lost her and oh God, she was in danger and she needed him and he didn’t know how the fuck to find her!
He shivered, turned his sweaty face to Catherine.
“Yeah. She’s the one you felt when you touched me.” A few days after Catherine somehow found them in Haven—a place three experts in security had hidden carefully away from the world—she’d touched him and understood that he’d lost someone, that he was worried sick about someone.
She never went there again and neither did anyone else.
But now it had to come out.
He grabbed Catherine’s hand, barely noticing Mac and Jon exchanging looks. “Read me,” he whispered urgently, clasping her hand hard between his trembling hands. “Tell me where she is. What’s happening to her. I got a call for help and I don’t know where she is and oh God!”
Nick’s throat closed tight. Nothing more could come out. He clung to Catherine’s hand as if it were a lifeline. A raging river was tumbling him over and over down an endless descent into hell and only her touch could make sense of it.
Catherine was shaking her head slowly, eyes on his, face sad. “I am so sor—” She stopped, breathed out, tilted her head. Even though she was looking straight at him, her eyes grew distant as if watching something a thousand yards away. Her grip tightened, her hands warming up until they felt red hot in his cold ones.
“Elle,” she whispered and Nick broke out in a cold sweat. He was shaking, could barely breathe.
“Yeah,” he said hoarsely.
“What?” Catherine blinked.
“Elle, Elle, Elle,” he shouted.
Mac’s jaw tightened. Nick didn’t give a shit. Mac could shove it up his ass if it bothered him that Nick was shouting at his wife. Because Catherine knew something, and something was better than what he had right now, which was a shitload of nothing. No intel, no idea where she was, nothing but ashes in his hand and his head exploding from the need to get to Elle as fast as humanly possible.
Wherever the fuck she was. He had no idea. But maybe Catherine did. He stepped closer to Catherine, and Mac took a step forward, too. Jon grabbed Mac’s arm and shook his head.
Well, fuck.
Nick wasn’t going to hurt Catherine. If Mac used his brains instead of his dick, he’d know that. But Nick wasn’t letting Catherine walk away without finding out what she knew, however the hell she knew it.
