Page 75 of Ace
“Tate, please. Just call me Tate. But go on.” He made a hurry up sign with his hand. “I fish and hunt, just never considered using psychic fishing line or prayers, though. That works for you?”
“Yes, it does.” Her cheeks billowed as she blew out a breath. The last two days had been impossibly long and worrisome. She was tired to her soul. “Gran Mere taught me to pray when I cast, that’s all. Think of me as a catch-and-release fisherman, only some fish are already looking for me. Like Isaiah. Casting for him was easy. All I had to do was open my mind to the possibility of saving him and—”
“He reeled you in,” Tate said as if that was precisely what happened.
Which it was. Isaiah had been dying then, and dying men were desperate to live. It was only natural that Isaiah grabbed hold and hung on as fervently as he had when she’d offered hope.
“I guess you can say that.”
“You ever thought of casting for Doctor Rudy John?”
An instant chill shivered up Savannah’s spine. “No,” she said, certain she would never go looking for the despicable man who’d tried to kill Keller. “It would take my focus off Keller. I can’t.”
Tate made a sound at the back of his throat like Keller used to. “You can’t? Or you won’t?”
Savannah laughed. “Oh, my gosh, did you just growl at me?”
There went those brows again, but this time Agent Higgins’ eyes sparkled. He was a bear of a man. Fierce-looking and most likely as lethal as the rest of the Deuces Wild team, but so much like Keller. Tough on the outside, but a marshmallow at his core.
“Did you just call me a marshmallow?” There went that twinkle again.
Savannah relaxed, letting down her psychic defenses. “I’m glad you heard that. You have no idea how much I needed to connect with another person like me. For a moment there, you sounded just like Keller. He growls, too.”
Tate cocked his head. “A person like you? And just what and who would that be?”
Savannah analyzed what she’d been told all her life against what she knew now. “You see,” she began on a murmur. “All my life people avoided me and Gran Mere, and that was okay. I was different, so was she. I always knew that. And the less I had to deal with people, the easier it was to not belong. But it was hard.”
“And people label folks who don’t fit in,” Tate said. “The Inuit people called meQimmiqwhen I was younger. Means dog. But after I lost my folks…” His fist came up and thumped his chest. “They called meAklaq,and they stayed the hell out of my way.”
“They called you black bear,” she said. Tate was easy to read. “I can see why. You understand animals. You know how they think.”
He nodded, a twinkle in the corner of his eye. “I like you. You just read me, didn’t you?”
Her shoulders came up. “It’s a gift. I’m sorry. I try not to, it just happens when I tune in.”
“What’d people call you?”
Oh, that. Savannah didn’t want to think about it, but she felt safe with Tate. He’d understand. “Most of the time, witch. Voodoo queen. Priestess. Other things…” Her brows lifted at that last one. “But I’m just a woman with a psychic gift who would rather spend her time helping animals than arguing with people. Animals communicate purely, but people—”
“People lie,” Tate said. “Yeah. I’d rather spend all day with my dog than one minute with most people, present company excluded. Yet here you are with Keller, one of the baddest guys I’ve ever met.”
Savannah had to smile at that. Tate was pretty badassed himself. “What Inuit name would you give Keller?”
There was that growl again. “Tarkik. Means moon.”
Savannah hadn’t seen that coming. “Moon?”
“Yes. Moon. Fits him. He’s got a dark side like me. Are you afraid of that rat bastard John?”
Maybe.“I’m not sure. I’ve been too worried about Keller to think about RJ.”
Tate folded both arms over his chest, making himself larger than life. How did men do that? Savannah was a Lilliputian in a room of two giants. “I’m gonna tell you something,Nuka.”
Aw, he’d just called her little sister. This big bad bear knew just how to touch her heart.
“Isaiah’s one of a handful of Level Tens in the entire world. You understand what I’m saying? He’s a rare gift in a world gone bat shit crazy, and you…” Tate stuck his index finger at her. “Isaiah says you’re strong, maybe stronger than he is. That’s something to be proud of. And you pray, which is another rare damned thing in today’s world, even for a psychic. I think that’s your secret. You believe in a higher power. You’re humble. You’re kind. But you’re also smarter than any swamp rat who thinks he’s some kind of magical warlock.” Tate’s index finger stabbed toward the ceiling. “You don’t invoke Satan. You call on the real power. You call on God.”
Wow. Just wow. Savannah hadn’t thought of her gift that way. She didn’t know what to say. Tate had read her like a book, yet she was no high priestess or conjurer of heaven’s almighty wrath, either. All she could come up with was, “Umm…”
