Forged in Ash (A Red-Hot SEALs Novel)

by Trish McCallan

  Before the cops found her.

  Before Mackenzie and his crew found her.

  Hell, maybe he should just take care of the SEALs now too. Why bother waiting to find out what they knew? The timing would be perfect. If he could get to Jillian before the cops, and she disappeared, nobody would know she wasn’t behind Mackenzie’s and his men’s deaths. The murders would almost certainly be attributed to her—third time’s a charm and all that.

  He wouldn’t have to worry about any of this shit leaking back to the bosses.

  Another squad car roared around him, and Robert’s heart jumped into overdrive. Everything hinged on getting to the damn woman before the cops found her. Or at least before so many cops surrounded her he couldn’t handle the officers himself.

  What was another murder or two pinned on the woman?

  She wouldn’t be around to insist on her innocence.

  Kait didn’t need a sense of knowing, like her father and brother and possibly Wolf, to recognize that Cosky didn’t want her brand of help.

  Or at least, judging by his muttered later, not at the moment.

  Not in front of his teammates. Which was fine with her, she didn’t particularly want to expose her gift to Mac, Zane, and Rawls either. Setting herself up for ridicule wasn’t a favorite pastime.

  Nor did the thought of doing a public healing thrill her. If word of her abilities got out, she’d be inundated with requests for help, and from people in much worse shape than Cosky or Aiden, or even Demi for that matter. But her gift was too damn unreliable for people to pin their hopes on. Her mother’s death had proved that. So had Aunt Issa’s.

  A shadow of grief slid through her. Losing them no longer held that suffocating, raw edge—but the ache was still present, just as it was for the loss of her father. It would probably always be present.”

  The first knifing agony death brought didn’t last long. It was impossible to generate such intensity for any length of time. The mind couldn’t cope with such constant, agonizing pain. Eventually the grief settled into a constant, dull ache, which became less constant and duller with the passing of each day, until sooner or later you realized you hadn’t thought about them for the whole day.

  She’d accepted her mother’s death years ago. She’d been so young at the time—just turned ten—with the healing ability barely manifested. She’d recognized the fact she hadn’t been strong enough to make a difference.

  But Issa…this time the shadow of grief held an edge of anger, the sting of frustration. She should have been able to help her. She’d been twenty-two for God’s sake, no longer a child. She should have been strong enough to take the cancer from her.

  What was the use of such a gift if you couldn’t count on it?

  If you couldn’t use it to help the ones you loved.

  She shook old frustrations aside as Rawls removed a knife from his kit and split Cosky’s sweats. The leg had to be in pretty bad shape, not just because of how limply it had hung there, but because Cosky had made no effort to go after his attacker.

  Still, from the dead silence that froze everyone’s tongues when the sweats finally fell away, exposing his distended, grotesquely misaligned knee, she wasn’t the only one shocked by its sickening condition.

  Not only was the joint horribly swollen, but the patella had shifted to the right and was occupying territory that looked plain wrong. Kait’s gaze flew to Cosky’s face. He’d laid his head on the pavement and closed his eyes. Lord, he must be in tremendous pain.

  Except…she frowned, studying his face closely. He showed no signs of pain. His expression had hardened into grimness tinged with resignation, but not pain. Of course, he was probably an expert at masking pain by now. He’d been dealing with his injuries for months. And if his career on the teams paralleled her brother’s, there would have been plenty of other, smaller, injuries he would have been subject to as well.

  Rawls sheathed the knife he’d used to split Cosky’s sweats, dropped it into the square bag next to his knees, and removed a vial and syringe. “I’m going to give you some Demerol.”

  “Don’t bother,” Cosky said, his voice vibrating with the same grim resignation that was on his face. “It doesn’t hurt. I can’t feel a damn thing from the knee down.”

  Mac swore, and turned to glare across the parking lot. “Where’s the fucking ambulance?”

  “Keep the cops off us too,” Zane called, as Mac strode off.

  He couldn’t feel his leg?

  She didn’t know much about the mechanics of the knee joint, but numbness didn’t sound good. In fact, it sounded downright bad.

  She drew a shallow breath, her stomach tightening. A wave of heat flooded her. When her hands started tingling, she glanced down, discovering she’d clenched them so tightly her fingernails were cutting into her palms. She relaxed her grip, but the tingling grew stronger. Grimacing, she rubbed her hands against her jeans hoping the stimulation would relieve the discomfort.

  “What happened?” Zane’s voice was so gruff it verged on raw and shaky.

  “I smashed it against the pavement when I hit the ground.” Cosky’s voice was actually the steadier of the two.

  But then, if his leg was numb, he’d known the extent of the damage much longer than his teammates. Long enough to accept it, even resign himself to it.

  Another wave of heat and tingling swept through her. Suddenly an intense urge to drop to the ground and reach for Cosky’s knee gripped her.

  Okay, this was new.

  And unwelcome.

  Her body rigid, she stepped back, trying to ignore the building urgency. This wasn’t the time or place. He’d been very clear about that. She needed to wait until they had some privacy.

  The tingling in her hands graduated from uncomfortable to painful.

  She tried to step back, to walk away. But her body refused to budge.

  Possibly she could have ignored the building urgency to do something, if Cosky hadn’t looked down at his knee, and then up at Zane. Their eyes only connected for a second or two, but it was long enough for Kait to catch the shared bleakness.

  The next wave of urgency shoved her forward and drove her to the ground. She was reaching for his knee before she even realized she’d moved.

  “Goddamn it,” Cosky roared, jackknifing up, his hands reaching for hers as Zane stepped toward her. “I told you no.”

  An electrical shock jolted through her the instant his hands settled over hers. Stunned, Kait watched the hair on her arms stand straight up. It felt like the hair on her head might be doing the same.

  “What the hell?” Cosky’s eyes opened wide. From the sharp edge of disbelief in his voice, he’d felt that shock too.

  Okay… This was getting weirder and weirder…

  A thick surge of heat swallowed her. It built in her chest, flowed up her shoulders, and down through her arms. This she recognized—the heat and flow of the energy when she was channeling it fully.

  But she’d never channeled so much before.

  Kait blinked to clear the haze from her eyes. Cosky was looking down at his arms, where the hair was standing straight up. Slowly, his head turned; his gaze locked on Kait’s face.

  His face was red and sweating. Wet patches were already dampening the neck of his T-shirt and under his arms.

  Her eyes stung and went blurry. Sweat trickled down her scalp and the back of her neck. Between her breasts.

  “Kait,” Zane said from above and behind her. Hands settled over her shoulders. He hissed, and the hands fell away. “Son of a bitch.”

  “What happened?” Rawls rose to his feet.

  “She shocked me,” Zane said.

  He’d felt it too? What in the world was going on? This was beyond bizarre.

  “Shocked you?” Rawls repeated thoughtfully. “Leave her be,” he added sharply and moved to Kait’s side.

  “What’s going on?” Zane asked.

  “Best guess is we’re getting a demonstration of why Cos came to see her.�
��

  Kait was vaguely aware of Rawls taking a quick look around. “Keep everyone clear. They won’t want witnesses.”

  Cosky looked up, but without letting go of her hands. His face was streaming with sweat now, and getting redder by the moment. “How the hell did you figure it out?”

  “Aiden,” Rawls said simply. “She was giving him a back massage every time I visited. Dozens of them. It was weird. So when his X-rays did a complete three-sixty, and he requalified for the team, I wondered.”

  “What are you two talking about?” Zane asked.

  Their voices blurred into a steady drone, lifting and falling, like waves on the ocean.

  When Cosky’s hands tightened over hers and pressed down, grinding her palms into his knee, Kait lifted her head. Sweat was running off her chin, hitting the pavement in a steady spatter. She’d never been this hot before in her life—never sweated so heavily in her life—and she wasn’t the only one.

  His face was streaming too and even redder than before.

  Unhealthy red.

  Her hands felt raw beneath his, swollen and numb.

  This was wrong. Everything about this was wrong.

  Cosky groaned and his hands tightened, squeezing hers. She could barely feel the pressure.

  He groaned again, his voice thick. Agonized.

  She blinked the haze and sweat from her eyes. His face wavered before taking shape, and then wavered again. When it finally solidified, it was twisted and lobster red.

  Oh God, she was hurting him.

  She couldn’t feel her hands at all anymore. They were completely numb. Maybe she was pressing against his knee too hard, putting too much pressure on the smashed cartilage and torn tendons. She tried to pull back, but his hands tightened, grinding her palms back down against his flesh.

  His head lifted. Platinum eyes glowing like polished silver latched on her face.

  “Don’t let go.” The words were slurred, his voice drunk.

  What the heck was happening to them? Between them?

  “I’m hurting you,” she gasped, going light-headed and nauseated at the simple task of talking.

  “I can feel the cartilage shifting.” Cosky’s voice was as breathless as hers. “Jesus, I can feel it working.”

  No way. Her healings didn’t work that fast. It took weeks of massages. Sometimes months.

  None of this was possible.

  Yet it was happening.

  She groaned, her head swimming, nausea climbing her throat.

  Oh lord, she was going to be sick. Leaning over, she retched.

  The hands covering hers vanished.

  “Rawls.” This time Cosky’s voice was sharp. “Pull her off.”

  “You should let this run its course.”

  “Off. Now,” Cosky roared, and her hands were knocked loose. He dragged himself back away from her.

  “Cos—”

  “For Christ’s sake, look at her,” Cosky snapped. “She’s about to pass out.”

  He was right. Kait tilted forward, her vision graying.

  “Grab her!” Cosky’s voice echoed through her head.

  “Son of a bitch.” Hands caught her, eased her back into a sitting position, and back even further until the pavement cradled her shoulders and spine. “Jesus, she’s burning up.”

  “Goddamn it, do something.” Cosky’s voice sounded strange. Frantic.

  “We need to get her temperature down.” Rawls on the other hand, sounded grim. “Is this normal?”

  “How the hell should I know?”

  Her head swam, their voices undulating around her, swelling and receding, rising and falling.

  “What happened before?”

  “None of this,” Cosky said tightly. “She just massaged it. Now shut up and help her.”

  “Zane, take off your shirt and flap it over her. We need to get some air flow going.”

  Her shirt lifted and a wonderful breeze wafted over her face and down her chest. Something icy and square pressed against her forehead. A second and third were placed against both sides of her neck, and more on her chest and between her breasts. She groaned, concentrating on the cold. It felt so good.

  “The ice packs should help.” A long pause. “Her heart rate’s slowing.” A long, soothing couple of minutes of silence followed before Rawls spoke again. “I think she’s cooling.”

  “You think!” Cosky’s voice cracked like thunder.

  “I didn’t get a baseline temperature.” For the first time there was a snap in Rawls’s voice. “She doesn’t feel as hot. Neither do you.”

  Kait’s head steadied. She concentrated on taking deep, slow breaths until her stomach calmed.

  “I’m okay,” she said once she was certain talking wouldn’t launch the nausea again. She kept her eyes closed though. No sense in pushing things.

  “Don’t try to move,” Rawls murmured.

  She hadn’t planned on moving. Ever. Kait sighed, enjoying the lovely breeze caressing her face.

  “Sweet Jesus,” Rawls suddenly said, sounding stunned.

  “What?” Cosky and Zane asked together.

  “Look at her hands!” A long throbbing pause. “Sweet Jesus, Cos, your knee.”

  The sheer disbelief in Rawls’s voice made Kait open her eyes. The sky was brilliant and blue and dizzying overhead. She started to raise her hands to her face, her arms feeling like they weighed a thousand pounds apiece, but her forearms were caught and forced back down to the pavement.

  “Hey,” she said indignantly and tried to raise them again. This time nobody stopped her.

  “She must be feeling better,” Cosky said, his voice still rough, but calmer. “She’s getting huffy.”

  Huffy? She’d show him huffy.

  She tried to sit up, only to find she had no strength, so she concentrated on her arms instead. When her hands came into view, she blinked repeatedly to clear the film from her eyes and then simply stared. The back of her hands were lobster red and swollen. Slowly she rotated them until her palms faced her.

  A hiss split the air. She wasn’t sure if it came from her, Zane, or Cosky.

  “Holy…crap,” she said, drawing the words out as she stared in pure disbelief at her red and blistered palms. She closed her eyes and then peeked again. They looked even worse the second time—swollen, raw, blisters upon blisters—like she’d cupped her hands and reached into a volcano scooping out a pool of lava.

  “Well, this is new,” she said out loud, to no one in particular.

  Only then did it occur to her that her hands didn’t hurt. They should. Considering how much a small burn hurt, something this major should have her screaming in pain.

  “How come they don’t hurt?” she asked, looking up at Rawls.

  His forehead wrinkled and he squatted next to her. “Can you feel them at all?”

  She frowned, staring hard at the blistered skin. “They feel numb, kind of like that cotton-wool feeling you get when you’re on heavy-duty pain killers.”

  A flash of concern darkened the blue eyes above her, but he just shook his head and shuffled over to Cosky. Which reminded her…

  If her hands looked like she’d been cradling a nuclear-powered iron, what did Cosky’s knee look like? Without considering the ramifications, she jolted up. Her head swam for a second, but steadied. Her stomach, thank God, stayed put.

  “I’m okay,” she said when hands settled on her shoulders.

  “Well, she’s not throwing off sparks anymore,” Zane said.

  Kait turned her attention to Cosky’s knee. This time her stomach did try to climb her throat. “Oh, Cosky, no. I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” he said gruffly. “It helped.”

  “It helped.”

  How in the world could he claim that? The twisted look on his face from earlier flashed through her mind. No wonder he’d been in pain. His knee was in the same shape as her hands—swollen, covered in livid blisters. She’d been burning the skin off him.

  “I don’t u
nderstand what happened,” she said, and her throat closed up. She swallowed hard and simply shook her head.

  “This isn’t normal?” Rawls asked.

  Silently, she shook her head again. He squeezed her shoulder and gently took hold of her right wrist, raising her hand. Squeezing a generous dollop of white cream out of a tube onto her palm, he carefully spread it over her entire hand and then wrapped it from fingers to wrist in white gauze. He taped the bandage at her wrist and repeated the procedure on her left hand.

  Once he’d tended to Kait’s burns, he shuffled over to Cosky’s leg.

  “How bad is it?” Kait asked thickly, nausea rolling around in her belly again as she focused on his blistered knee. It was the color of tomato soup now, a deep, angry red.

  Rawls squeezed a puddle of cream from the tube onto Cosky’s knee, recapped it, and dropped it into his black bag before gingerly smoothing the white substance over Cosky’s fried skin. “It’s hard to tell beneath the swelling, but…” His voice trailed off and he shook his head.

  “What?” Kait asked on a tight breath. Her chin dropped and tears stung.

  What a disaster. She should never have tried to help him. She’d just made things worse. Much worse. Now he had third-degree burns along with his other injuries.

  “I’m not sure yet.”

  The evasiveness in Rawls’s voice brought Kait’s head up. Had she caused even more damage than she’d realized?

  Cosky scanned her face and his eyes softened.

  “The blisters are superficial,” he told her, his gentle tone more comforting than his words. “The real story is what’s going on beneath the blisters.” He glanced at Rawls, his gaze challenging. “Isn’t it?”

  Zane walked over to Cosky’s side and stared. “What are you talking about?”

  “The cartilage,” Cosky said when Rawls didn’t respond. “It’s aligned again.”

  Zane’s breath hissed out. He squatted, staring hard at Cosky’s cream-smeared skin. “That’s impossible.”

  “Is it?”

  Rawls’s quiet question had all three men turning to stare at Kait.

  Kait sucked in a breath, a sense of unreality hitting her. Her head went light and dizzy, only this time the sensation didn’t go away. A wave of exhaustion washed over her.