The cut in his forehead kept bleeding, the liquid burning his eye. The gash went beyond his skull to his brain, and the healing cells were stitching the skull back together too slowly to make a difference. He hadn’t regained his strength after his ordeals in hell, and crashing through a windshield the other day had taken its toll, especially on his slowly regenerating ability to teleport.
The helicopter pitched again, and his hand slipped, burning along the rope. He growled and fought to stay in the air.
They dropped several feet before his grip caught purchase. Promise burrowed closer to him, now making soft mewling noises.
“It’s okay,” he said, turning his head so his mouth brushed her forehead, his muscles straining so much he could feel them unravel.
She shuddered.
He drew deep for strength, fighting his body once again for survival. “This is nothing,” he grunted, climbing once again. After a guy had been to a few different hell worlds, getting caught on a rope in a middle of a fall storm really was a mild nuisance. The human on his back probably didn’t understand that, however.
Of course, she could die easily. He needed to be decapitated to be finished and had healing cells to fix everything from his brain to the tendons surrounding his knee. At least he’d been able to protect her from injury when they’d hit the ground. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you, Promise. Just hold on.” He’d swallowed enough sand that his normally hoarse voice sounded raw, even to his damaged eardrums. Healing cells started to fix them, and he let them go to work.
Although she didn’t have any choice except to hold on, he kept a firm grip on her wrists.
Finally, a large hand reached out of the helicopter and grabbed his, pulling hard. He looked up to see Adare hanging out of the twisting aircraft, his face one hard line of concentration. When had the Highlander gotten back to town? Ivar used his knees to help and was soon on his belly, half inside the craft. “Get her,” he ordered, his face down.
Adare lifted Promise free and sat her on the side bench before hauling Ivar all the way inside and plunking him next to her. Then he closed the door and turned around. “How bad?” His brogue was unusually thick with stress.
Ivar opened his eyes to see Ronan nod from the pilot’s seat. He banked a hard left and turned away from the ocean. “I’m fine,” Ivar said, mentally checking the healing cells. They were slower than they’d been before he’d run through endless dimensions and fought hell beasts, but they were still working. He turned toward Promise, whose eyes were wide and frightened in her sand-battered face. Was she all right? “What hurts, sweetheart?”
Sand covered her wet hair and clothing. Her mouth gaped open and then shut. Her full lips began to turn blue, and she trembled so violently her shoulders shook against the helicopter’s metal side. But he couldn’t see blood or any broken bones.
She gulped and then looked toward Ronan, at Adare, and then at Ivar. “What in all reality?” she croaked.
He leaned his head back to relieve some of the pressure in his skull but kept his gaze on the woman. She seemed in shock but not physically injured. “Promise? This is Adare. He’s another ex-soldier at the business.”
She looked toward the Highlander, taking him in from head to toe. For the mission, Adare had dressed in black cargo pants, complete with a myriad of weapons visible in every pocket. He wore a sidearm strapped to both thighs as well as a knife in the holder at his waist. His dark T-shirt covered his hard chest, and he’d tied his unruly black hair at the nape.
“Hi,” he said, holding out a hand.
Hers trembled as she reached for it. The second they touched, she winced, yanking back to press her palm against her temple.
Ivar straightened. “You okay?”
She winced and partially turned away. “It’s that headache again,” she slurred.
Adare was studying her with those black eyes of his. Slowly, he reached out and poked her in the arm.
She coughed and drew away, pain leaching away the color beneath her skin.
Ivar’s chest hitched. “Adare? Go up by Ronan, would you?”
Adare nodded. “Aye. Just give me a sec.” He tugged his thick T-shirt over his head, handing it to Promise. “It’s dry.” Then he turned and crouched down to walk to the copilot seat. The farther away he got, the better Promise looked.
Interesting.
Ivar noted that her breathing had leveled out. “Better, Missy?” Yeah, he liked having a nickname for her.
“Yes.” She fumbled with her hand at her neck, looking toward the cockpit. “That’s quite the tattoo on your friend’s back.”
It wasn’t a tattoo. The fusing of the ribs and entire torso that occurred during the Seven ritual created a type of dark shield that made the ribs visible. “Promise,” Ivar said, waiting until she focused back on him. “I need to know if you’re injured, honey.”
She drew Adare’s shirt over her head and then hugged her body with her arms, her movements jerky. “I’m okay.” She rocked back and forth, holding herself tighter, her lips still trembling. “But I really don’t understand.” She was quiet for a minute and then swept her hands out. “Any of this. I mean, how in the world are you still breathing? There’s no way you should be. This defies all logic.”
Ivar opened his mouth to say something, and he wasn’t sure what. Then the helicopter banked a hard right and spun, battered by the storm.
Promise banged her head back. “We are so going to die.”
Chapter Eleven
Like any puzzle of the universe, Promise was going to figure out this one. She walked from the en suite bath to the vacant bedroom and finished toweling water from her hair after a hot shower in an apartment in the high-rise downtown, just a couple floors below the office she’d visited earlier. They’d landed the helicopter, midstorm, right on the gravel covered roof.
Ronan had explained the building would serve as a safe house for the time being.
How was her life in such a state that she required a safe house? She had already dressed in a nice pair of yoga pants and a T-shirt sporting Snoopy meditating on what appeared to be a human brain filled with shoes. Who in the world would wear such a shirt?
She glanced down at the yellow material. At least it was soft and clean.
As was she. She eyed the scrapes down her right arm from fighting the sand. She’d been in fight-or-flight mode on the beach and hadn’t felt the pain. Unlike now. Now her arm stung.
The room held high-end furniture with an overlarge king-sized bed covered in a dark blue comforter. A dresser and two nightstands were the only other fixtures, and they were lacking in knickknacks or anything personal. But the bed. She eyed it. The item was huge.
She quickly secured her wet hair in a ponytail holder from the cosmetics bag left for her in the bathroom. All new makeup, lotions, hair clips, and so on that had been provided.
The low rumble of male voices came from the living room just beyond her door, and she recognized Ivar’s from his hoarse rasp. Were they arguing about something? She had just moved to press her ear to the door when somebody knocked on it. She yelped and jumped back. “Um, come in?”
The door opened, and a woman walked inside carrying a black doctor’s bag. “Hi. I’m Faith.” She was tallish with sharp features and brown eyes that shone with intelligence. Her brown hair was swept atop her head, and she wore a lovely red silk shirt, pressed jeans, and stylish brown boots. “Rumor has it you might need a doctor.” She shut the door and looked Promise up and down.
Promise backed away. “What kind of a doctor?” Who were these people?
Faith smiled, showing a dimple in her right cheek. “Neurologist. Dr. Faith Cooper, at your service.”
Wait a minute. Faith Cooper? Promise narrowed her gaze and tried to picture the vivacious woman the way she’d last seen her in a black-and-white magazine photograph. “I read your art
icle last year regarding quantum neuroscience and the limits of consciousness. It was fascinating.”
Faith’s eyes sparkled. “Thank you. We had tons of fun researching that and just played around with existing theories to question whether there could be temporal patterns of electromagnetic fields that could somehow affect levels of brain space.”
Okay. So this definitely was Faith Cooper. “What are you doing here?” Promise asked, her body aching everywhere from the fall.
“Well, it’s a long story,” Faith said. “Short version is that I’m engaged to Ronan Kayrs and am taking a sabbatical from the hospital to help my sister heal from being in a coma for a few years.”
Every brain cell in Promise’s head bellowed that there was a lot more to the story than that, but Faith had tried to give her a short version. Promise’s left ankle protested against standing any longer, so she backed away and sat on the edge of the bed. “I have you to thank for the clothes?”
Faith’s smile widened. “Yes. They’re for yoga, and I didn’t know how bruised you might be, so I figured loose would be better.”
“It is. Thank you,” Promise said, her mind reeling. “Where is Ivar?”
“Outside the room. I thought I could check you over before we grab something to eat.” Faith glanced at her watch. “It’s well after midnight, and I’m starving. How about you?”
Food? The other woman could think of food right now? “How did Ivar and I survive a leap off a cliff that high?” she asked, her skin pricking. Enough with the secrets that didn’t make sense.
Faith eyed the scratches on Promise’s arm and opened the bag to draw out ointment. “He’s trained to jump and roll.”
“Malarkey,” Promise burst out. “Nobody is trained to survive gravity at that height.” She accepted the tube and began to rub the clear lotion into her skin, relieving the pain almost instantly. She tried to make rational connections. “This is a supersoldier type of business with unlimited funds. What all do you research? Have you somehow genetically altered the human physique?” The mere idea was folly for suspense novels and streaming television. But what else made sense?
“No. No genetic manipulation here. Not a bit,” Faith said cheerfully. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”
“No. Just neck to ankle contusions.” A couple of bruises wouldn’t kill Promise. “If Ivar hasn’t been altered in any manner, why isn’t he in the hospital right now having his ribs and lungs operated on? As well as that gash in his head. He needs stitches, at the very least.”
Faith closed her bag. “Ivar does have the ability to heal quickly and from surprisingly damaging wounds. I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you more than that. Proprietary information and all of that bullshit.”
Promise straightened from her perch. “I take it you don’t agree with keeping secrets?”
“Not usually, and definitely not when somebody is in danger.” Faith lost the smile. “You’re pretty much in this now, whether you want to be or not, so we might as well tell you everything. But that’s Ivar’s decision, and I’m trying really hard not to step on his toes. It’s nice to have him being rational again. Well, mostly.”
Curiosity cut thorough the irritation in Promise. “He wasn’t rational? After the mission where he got burned?”
Faith snorted. “He called that a mission?” At Promise’s nod, she continued. “No. He didn’t speak at all for a month when he returned. It was like he had to relearn how to live without fighting for his life every second,” she said, her voice thoughtful.
A pang hit Promise’s chest, and it took her a moment to recognize the feelings. Empathy and concern. Was she getting attached to the Viking? How was that possible? He wasn’t even being honest with her. “Ivar seems much better now.” In fact, the memory of how easily he’d put her on his back, despite a myriad of broken bones, turned her abdomen all mushy. She paused to interpret the feeling.
Faith watched her closely. “Ivar told me about your headaches.”
Promise perked up. This woman was one of the premier neurologists in the world. “Yes. I feel fine now, but I had another attack in the helicopter.”
“When Adare was close to you. Then when he returned to the cockpit, your pain receded,” Faith said, ducking her head to examine Promise’s eyes. “Follow my fingers.” She put up two fingers and moved them slowly left to right.
Promise complied. “What could Adare have to do with my headache?” She pursed her lips and followed Faith’s fingers up and then down. “It doesn’t make sense, but that receptionist yesterday. My head hurt when I entered the office, and I passed out. Then I was pain-free in the conference room, and when she came inside and asked me if I wanted water, my head hurt again.” Same with that Benjamin man. “I don’t understand.” What was the connection between those people and her brain? It had to be coincidence, but she didn’t believe in those. Everything had a rational explanation.
Faith dropped her hand. “I don’t know. Honest.”
Promise’s breath caught. “How about an experiment?”
Faith lifted her chin. “I’d enjoy one.” She glanced toward the door. “Are you sure?”
“Definitely.” Promise clasped her hands together on the yoga pants. “Let’s do this.”
Faith clapped her hands together. “Excellent.” She sat on the bed and turned toward Promise, tucking one leg beneath the other. “Face me.”
Promise mirrored her pose, excitement flushing down her arms. She loved a good experiment. “What now?”
Faith put her fingers on the pulse point on Promise’s wrist. “Keep your eyes on mine so I can record any pupil reaction.” She waited until Promise had done so and then lifted her head very slightly. “Adare? Come in here for a second, would you?” she called out clearly.
The door opened. Promise kept her gaze on Faith and didn’t look over her shoulder. Nothing happened to her brain or neck. No sensation whatsoever. She sighed. It had been a silly experiment.
“What’s going on?” Ivar asked from behind her.
Hope filtered through Promise again, and she kept her eyes opened and wide on Faith’s pretty brown ones. “Nothing. Would you please ask Adare to come here?” she asked.
Ivar sighed. “Adare? Come here.”
Pain slashed into Promise’s neck before she heard Adare’s footsteps.
“What?” he snapped. Man, the big guy with the brogue was cranky. Promise’s eyes watered, and she finally winced, shutting her eyelids. Her brain felt like it swelled.
“Go away,” Faith said urgently.
The pain receded again. Promise opened her eyes.
Concern filled Faith’s. “That was pretty conclusive.”
“Res ipsa loquitur,” Promise agreed.
“The thing speaks for itself?” Ivar asked from the doorway.
Promise jumped and swiveled toward him. “You speak Latin?”
His eyebrows rose. “I’m not your ordinary boy toy, sweetheart.”
Fire lit her face, because she had been thinking of him as such. He was brave and strong and impossibly muscled. She hadn’t looked for intelligence. Her body had wanted him before, and now her mind slid right into being intrigued. This might be detrimental to her well-being. “Does Adare wear a cologne?”
“This is way beyond scent,” Faith said. “Are you willing to try again?”
Promise swallowed. Anything to solve this puzzle. “Yes.” Her hands trembled.
“Somebody find Mercy,” Faith yelled.
Promise winced. Enough with the loud noises. “What did you observe?”
Faith peered closer into Promise’s eyes. “When Adare approached, you experienced an elevated heart rate, and your pupils expanded and then severely contracted, more noticeably in your left eye,” she said. “Is the pain worse on the left?”
“Slightly.” Promise rubbed the back of her neck, where it still ached
a little.
Ivar cocked his head. “So, the sympathetic pupillary deficit is greater on the stronger affected side.”
Okay. Now the man sounded like he’d studied medicine. Promise stared at him, and then her breath stopped. He’d showered, and his wet hair appeared darker than normal. An intriguing scruff covered his jaw, and his blue eyes were clear and direct. Those masculine features were all Viking. Then she blinked. What the heck? “Your head. The wound has healed.” Not even a scar was visible. She jerked away from Faith. “I don’t understand this. I’m missing elements here. Facts.” What was going on? It didn’t make sense. None of this, not one bit, made a darn lick of sense. Even the badass Ivar talking like he had a two hundred IQ was throwing her.
“Did you guys call me?” Mercy tossed open the door and all but bounced inside, reaching the bed in a couple of strides.
An ice pick of sharp pain slashed into Promise’s head so quickly she gasped, her heart all but stopping. She coughed, and her body seized.
“Lie down.” Faith pushed her to a prone position as the convulsions grew stronger. “Mercy? Get out. Run away. Now.”
Promise shut her eyes as mini-explosions ripped through her entire head. Her brain pounded against her skull, and blood dripped from her nose and ears. She whimpered, no longer seeing anything but a red haze. Tremors shook her eyes, and they rolled back into her head.
When unconsciousness took her this time, she welcomed the darkness.
Chapter Twelve
The rain pattered outside in the wee hours before dawn, and Ivar held Promise close, running his hand up and down her arm. He lay on top of the covers, while she was safely ensconced beneath them. Her heart rate had returned to normal, and the waves of pain had stopped rolling from her. His touch seemed to calm her, so he caressed her good arm, letting her know she was safe.
What the fuck had he been thinking? He’d noticed what caused her pain, and he’d allowed Faith to experiment with her brain. Promise had asked him to protect her, and he was doing a craptastic job of it. So far he’d held a gun to her side, thrown her off a cliff, made her climb through a storm into a pitching helicopter, and now had almost let her brain explode. When he’d seen the blood dripping from her ear, he’d nearly lost his own mind. She had probably been perfectly safe before he’d entered her life. He should’ve protected her from the Kurjans from afar.
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