Page 45 of I Dream of Danger
His eyes followed her every step of the way.
She replicated the spill of documents on the table in front of Nick.
He greedily eyed everything, unable to take his gaze off perfectly ordinary pieces of paper and some glossy brochures.
“Nick.” Catherine put her hand on his once more. It was a deliberate move and not even Mac objected. Catherine had some kind of secret power, some woo-woo thing that scared him and everyone else because it wasn’t woo-woo. It was fact. If she touched you, she knew what you were feeling. And lately, terrifyingly, if she touched you, she knew what you were thinking.
Must be scary shit to be married to someone who could walk around inside your head, but Mac looked pretty happy about it.
“Nick.” Catherine’s hand tightened, and Nick tore his eyes away from the briefcase. “Talk to me. Tell me what happened. What has you so upset?”
“Upset.” A sound came from his throat that was more an animal sound than a human one. “Upset is spilling soup, missing a train. Elle’s in danger. I’m not upset about that—I’m scared out of my fucking mind!”
He was sweating like a pig, heart pounding erratically. He felt like a machine that was broken and shaking to pieces.
“Okay. Okay. Calm down. You’re not helping her by panicking.” Catherine put her other hand around his. Nick wanted to snarl at her, but with his hand encased in hers he actually felt his heart rate starting to slow. Something was working. “Tell me exactly what happened.”
His heart gave a huge pump. His voice rose. “She’s in trouble. She somehow contacted me after all these years and she’s in trouble! In danger!” His gaze slid back to her briefcase. It glowed, as if in a spotlight.
“No, Nick.” Catherine’s voice was soft but firm. “You’re not telling me what happened, you’re telling me your reaction. You were…sleeping? Nick!” her voice sounded like a slap. “Look at me!”
He slid his eyes to her, reluctantly.
“You were sleeping?”
“Yes.” He had to force the word out through a tight throat.
“Something woke you up?”
Oh God. “Elle! She woke me up! Oh God, she…”
Catherine gave his hand a shake. “Focus hard, Nick. You’re not helping Elle at all. She’s in trouble and she might die because you can’t focus on anything but your feelings. I can feel you—you are one big wave of panic and fear. That is not going to help Elle. You can only help her if you remain calm and focused. Forget your feelings. Focus on the situation. Focus on helping Elle.”
Fuck. She was right.
Focus.
Nick took in a huge gulp of air.
He hardly recognized himself. He’d been a Ranger, he’d been Delta, he’d been Ghost Ops. No one had ever had to tell him to focus. He was nothing but focus. Brutal and unyielding. On a mission, he was pure cold steel.
Now he was trembling, sweaty, mind flying into a million tiny pieces.
“Come on, Nick.” Catherine looked serious, frowning. “Help me here. Help me help you.”
His eyes slid back to the briefcase. It gave him something. Some sense of calm, a point to focus on.
“Let’s go back to the beginning. Look at me, Nick.”
Damn. His eyes swiveled. “Looking.”
“You were sleeping. Were you dreaming?”
Had he been? Yeah. He’d been dreaming of Elle. Of the last time he’d seen her. And goddamn if it hadn’t been a wet dream. He’d woken up with a hard-on that he lost the second he got the danger message. No way was he going to say he woke up with a hard-on. Not in front of Catherine. Or Mac or Jon for that matter.
“Nick? Dreaming?”
“Yeah,” he muttered.
