Callahan said nothing, but flared his nostrils. It didn’t matter. Evan’s sixth sense went haywire, like a compass losing its true north. Evan went for his throat again. The man was a dirty, rotten liar. He’d been sending bio-samples of dead people for years. But what for?
“What about the white-robed men after the bombing?” Evan snapped.
“What?” Callahan paled.
“You heard me.” Evan’s face heated, his fingers tingled. His hold on his ability slipped and a tiny spark zipped into the man’s throat. He convulsed, eyes rolling back in his head. Okay, maybe it was more than a spark.
“Evan!” Grace cried.
“Just let me finish this, Grace.” He focused back on Callahan, now shuddering as though he’d been stunned by a Taser. “What about the white-robed people, Callahan? What happened to their corpses?”
“I… I… there were none. I don’t know what you mean. Everything else was in the report.”
Evan squeezed. Callahan choked. Evan released a little. “Last chance.”
The tendons in Callahan’s neck relaxed. “I cremated them all. Same order as the one to send the bio-samples.”
“Evan.” A cold palm to his forearm shocked him back to reality. “We have what we came for. That’s enough. Let’s go.”
His arms trembled with restraint, and he leaned in close to Callahan. “Breathe a word about this to anyone, and I’ll make it my personal mission to end you.”
He let go, and ushered Grace out, mind whirling with the possibilities of their discovery.
Seventeen
Grace stormed down the hospital corridor, feeling a complicated twist of emotions in her belly. Evan’s sturdy palm at her back didn’t make things better. In the park, the touch had felt reassuring and confident. Now, it felt… infuriating.
“Did you have to threaten him?” she muttered as a doctor walked past. Quickly, she swapped her grim frown for an easy smile and waved at the passerby. “Hello, Doctor—oh. Hello Raseem. How was the surgery?”
“A success, Grace, thank you.” Raseem dipped his head, looked suspiciously at the large and deadly man by her side, then continued down the hall leaving Evan and Grace alone once more.
“Did you?” she asked again, bitterness lacing her tongue. When he didn’t answer, she made a frustrated sound and clenched her fists. “God, you can be so—God!”
“Thanks,” he grunted.
“It wasn’t a compliment.”
Evan stopped her with a palm to the shoulder. Face to face in the stark corridor, there was nowhere to look but his blazing green eyes. Yeah, well, buddy… she was the one with the right to be angry here. Physical violence was never the answer.
Unless of course you were a member of the Deadly Seven.
Then, she supposed, sometimes it was. Oh God, she was in trouble because one look from him lowered her resolve. He’d been so nice to Adam in the street that she let him control the meeting with Callahan however he wanted. What on earth would happen if he tried to kiss her again?
Trouble.
He looked ready to reply, then a nurse in pink scrubs turned the corner. It was Catherine from the ED. Catherine was a busybody. She knew everything about everyone, and then some. She bounced down the hallway, her usual chipper self, brown hair swaying in her wake. Her steps faulted when she noticed Grace. Catherine’s eyes darted appreciatively over the intense man with his hand on Grace’s shoulder, brooding. A smirk twitched at the corner of Catherine’s mouth and she gave Grace a two-fingered salute.
“Doctor Grace,” she said and kept walking.
“Nurse Catherine.” Grace kept her face pleasant until Catherine had walked away, then shook her head, letting her anger rise.
“No. We’re not getting into this here.” Evan pulled her to the side, opened a door and then slipped in.
The door shut heavily behind them. The only light streamed from a strip of frosted glass at the door, but it was enough to illuminate the supply closet they were in. At least there was nobody here to gossip.
“Go on. Say what you really think,” Evan said and folded his arms. “I know there’s more coming, so out with it.”
“Out with it?” She blinked. Did he really want her honest opinion? Oh, yeah. Oh, boy he was gonna get it. She prodded his chest. “Fine. You know what I think? I think you don’t know how to deal with the real world anymore. Sara messed with your head two years ago and no one in your family believed you. It tore you apart and you’ve been punishing yourself ever since. You came into my hospital covered in bruises and, somehow, I don’t think they’re from saving the world. You said so yourself, and nobody has seen a sign of you or your family protecting the streets in years. Well, I got news for you, big stuff. You were right all along. She was bad news. Still is. All this time, you’ve been fighting to save your family. You should be proud that you’re the only one left trying to uncover the truth. You should have a little faith in yourself. Open your eyes, Lazarus!”
“Wow.” His eyes widened as he processed her barrage. “Okay, Drill Sergeant.”
Maybe she should have put a tap on her mouth, but he had a way of bringing everything to the surface.
“You know, Doc, just because you don’t see us, doesn’t mean we aren’t out there at night. It didn’t mean we all gave up.”
“Is this true?”
He shrugged. “For some of us. Some of the time.”
“Good.”
“Good?”
“Yes, I don’t want you to give up. I think what you and your family are doing is incredible. This city has gone to the dogs. I got mugged twice in two days! And… well, while I also like to believe in the system, I’m not blind. I can see that it’s a little broken, but with Dr. Callahan, you went from zero to threat level deadly in three seconds.”
“He admitted to working under the books!”
“You also strangled Sara, and… and… whatever electric power you have must be frying your brain circuits because violence isn’t the answer. Hurting people isn’t the answer.”
“I didn’t see you stopping me.”
He had her there. “I didn’t want to…” Why didn’t she? Maybe because he looked so terrifying. Like he did now. Even in the muted light she could see his biceps bulging through his shirt, veins threaded in his exposed forearms as he clenched his fists. Heat emanated from his presence. With all that raw, restrained power, he twitched. The wrong sound, the wrong move, could set him off.
Grace’s breath heaved in and out her shaky lungs.
“You were afraid of me,” he said.
She looked up at him, alarmed. “No. I wasn’t.”
A step closer. “Yes. You were.”
Her heart thudded loudly in her chest.
His finger lifted to her cheek, and she flinched. His resulting frown changed his expression from defiance to contrition.
“Doc,” he whispered and pulled his hand back to clench at his side. “I never meant to scare you. I would never hurt you. Him, yes. I have no problems hurting a liar like him, but not you.”
Hurt flashed in his shadowed eyes and she softened. Could she really blame him for his behavior? He was what they made him. Whoever they were. She had no idea, but it was clear there was more to his life than what she saw today. He had electricity coming out of his fingertips, for heaven’s sake.
“I believe you,” she whispered. “I don’t know why, but I believe you won’t hurt me.”
To prove her point, she placed her palm on the solid wall of muscle at his chest. His hot skin burned through the fabric and her fingers flexed in response. A low sound of awareness came from the base of his throat as though her touch pained him. Or the opposite. Oh, yes. She could be happy with the opposite.
“How is your shoulder wound?” she blurted, to stop her derailing thoughts.
Silence. Heavy breathing. When she lifted her gaze, she wished she hadn’t. Shadowed fire burned back at her from two dark eyes, intense and full of emotion.
He licked his
lips.
“Evan?”
“It’s fine,” he said, voice rough and thick. “All healed.”
“Can I—?” She couldn’t finish the sentence from the lump forming in her throat. She shifted her hand to the collar of his Henley T-shirt and popped the top button, then the next, and the next until it gaped open, exposing the dip of his collarbone and smooth velvety skin sketched in ink. She’d seen a sample of that ink when she treated him for the shoulder wound, but it had happened so fast, she never got a good look. And she wanted to. She wanted to look her fill. Her finger traced a black line from the gaping collar to the right and peeled the shirt open to expose his shoulder.
He swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing.
Check the sutures. That’s all.
But he smelled so good.
He was stubborn, and probably wouldn’t go to back to his GP. That was the only reason she was doing what she was doing, taking the liberty of… The stitches, or lack thereof, came into view and her mind stuttered to a halt. They were gone. A puckered scar was all that was left—purple and solid. It looked a few weeks old, not a few days. Her wide eyes met his.
“How?”
He shrugged. “Made in a lab. I’m a freak.”
“No,” she whispered, shocked, horrified that he would think that about himself. “You’re magnificent. A marvel.”
“Even if you don’t like… my job?”
“I never said that. You’re taking everything wrong. I believe you can make a difference, Evan, just not down the path you’ve been traveling.” She looked away. “I’ve been down that road. I spent weeks in the hospital bed stewing in my sorrows and dancing with my demons, but I realized that if I gave into those dark feelings, that I would lose part of myself. Don’t get stuck on vengeance and pain.” Her words sounded steady and strong, but deep in her heart, she remembered how close she’d come to crossing that line in the hospital. She wanted to give up her work as a doctor, and to chase down the arsonist and make her pay—to use her knowledge as a surgeon to kill that person without a trace. She did actually focus fully on that for a while, but when she came across Taco and the other people displaced from the bombing, she realized it wasn’t about her need for revenge.
“It’s a blurred line, Grace.”
“I know that but, to be honest, your people skills could use a little work.” She was thinking of the ME, probably with bruises on his throat.
He snorted.
She smiled.
It broke the tension.
But her fingers still touched his hot skin, and she couldn’t tear them away. He smelled divine. Manly, sweaty and spicy. She flexed her fingers again. His scent sang to her baser instincts, making her nipples bead under her blouse and push at her heavy coat. Suddenly, the heat in the small space was too much. She had a moment of panic knowing she was locked in that tiny confined room with him… panic that her claustrophobia would set in… then he breathed, and her palms shifted up his front, and she didn’t mind. So much power rolled beneath her hands, she knew she’d be safe with him.
“I want to work on it,” he rasped, frowning. “For you.”
“Why? Why me?” What she wanted to say was, why trust her with his secret? Why try to impress her?
He enveloped her hands with his. “Every day I wake with the sense of envy clawing my gut. It starts slow, but builds to a sickening hunger I can’t get rid of, not unless I stop the sin. That feeling wears me down. It wears us all down until eventually… we’re doomed to become the sin we fight. I didn’t realize how numb I’d become, that I had to let myself get beat up to feel anything.”
She gasped. He let himself get beat up?
“Then I met you and the pain disappeared.”
He showed her a tattoo on the inside of his wrist. A circle was separated into equal parts black and white by a curvy line—the Yin-Yang symbol.
“This ink has been modified to respond to the level of envy in my bloodstream. The blacker it is, the more sin in me, and the bigger risk of losing myself. Before I met you, it was almost black.”
“It’s perfectly balanced now,” Grace said.
“Exactly.”
Her heart stopped. “You think I had something to do with that?”
“I know you do.” Evan’s fingers dipped inside her coat collar and traced her neck, sending her senses into hyper-drive. He slowly popped the first button on her coat. “You have no envy, Grace. None at all. I’ve never met anyone in my entire life without at least an ounce. It’s more than that. You’re kind hearted, too. Exactly what I need in my life. You make me feel all the right things again.”
Her fists clutched his shirt. She had no envy? Her mind raced, trying to come to terms with what he said. Was she never envious of anyone? No. Probably not since her parents died, and she survived. She remembered waking in the hospital recovery room, limbs bandaged, sutures and skin grafts over her body… and then the doctor came in with that look on his face. She knew exactly what he was going to say. She’d worn that cold, distant look many times before. We’re sorry, Grace. Your parents didn’t make it.
She’d spent weeks, maybe months hating life after that, but then as she packed up their belongings, and moved them to her apartment, she realized there were many things in those boxes that pointed to their pride for her. From framed certificates, to science ribbons in grade school, to notices in the university paper, and receipts for her tuition and bank statements. They’d spent their life savings on her. For Grace to throw it all away in the name of revenge was wrong.
That was the moment she vowed to live for them. To be happy with the life she had, with the person she was, and that she’d spend it making other people less fortunate than herself live a strong, happy and healthy life. That’s why she’d declined the cardiothoracic fellowship. She was a great surgeon, but the hospital had no shortage of doctors wanting to be the next CT-Superstar. They did, however, have a shortage of doctors willing to work for next to nothing at the free clinic. She missed the operating theater so much she ached, but with her anxiety problems, she was just grateful she could help people. One day she would have the guts to face her theater fears, just not today.
Grace looked at the man staring intently at her. He put himself on the line every day only to be ridiculed and blamed in the paper. The Cardinal Copy hadn’t been kind to them over the years, often inflaming the truth with claims of property damage, and God complexes. She wondered if anyone had ever said thank you to him for saving their lives. Had she said thank you?
Grace tugged him down by the shirt and lifted on her toes until her lips to hovered near his.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “For saving my life. For helping Adam. For everything.”
She kissed him. It was a simple, press of the lips, but it was a connection that shot through her, and sent every nerve synapse firing.
He froze. Didn’t move. For a minute, Grace thought she’d overstepped, and when she pulled back, he looked tortured.
“Grace, I’m not expecting payment… or gratitude, or whatever you think this is. I…”
“I know. That’s why I kissed you.”
“It is?”
She bit her lip and nodded, conflicted. Because now that she had the taste of him, she wanted more—much more—but would he think it was only her gratitude?
As if reading her mind, he popped another button on her coat, and another, and kept going until it opened wide, exposing her burgundy silk blouse and blue jeans. His eyes lowered from her face, darted down her features and then went lower. His gaze felt like a caress. He locked on her breasts, and his lids drifted lazily down the rest of her body. “You’re so beautiful, Grace.”
“Evan…” she whispered, not sure what to say. He was a powerfully built man, a perfect male specimen. The kind she learned about in medical school and was literally created in a lab. The kind of special you usually read about in story books. Strong, gifted, fighting to save the world… and from the heat in his dark eyes, he wanted her.
He needed her. Maybe they could be good for each other.
“Kiss me again,” she whispered.
He dipped his head, but didn’t go for her mouth. Instead, his lips found her neck and breathed in deep, nudging her with his nose.
“You smell delicious.”
Then he tasted her sensitive skin, sending shivers down her spine. Both of them made an incomprehensible sound of pleasure. He licked and nipped and slid his hands to her back, pulling her body against his.
Grace went liquid. This embrace, it meant so much that her heart swelled achingly. Having arms to hold her again. If she just closed her eyes for a minute, she could imagine the pain of the world ebb away and enjoy having someone who needed her.
Not her skills as a doctor, but her.
“Oh, God,” she mumbled in delight as he licked up a vein on her neck to nibble at her ear.
She felt him smile against her skin. “Thanks.”
Eighteen
Evan couldn’t believe he was here, tasting Grace’s soft sunshine skin. Since the moment he’d met her at the hospital, she’d been living in his thoughts, a constant presence. And now, he had her pliant and eager in his arms. It wasn’t like outside the gallery where they’d launched at each other in a desperate fit of passion, high on adrenaline. This was intended. She made the first move. She knew every dark detail about him, and she still wanted him.
He ran the tip of his tongue along her full bottom lip before pushing inside her mouth. Around and around he swirled, delving until she pushed back with a trembling moan into his mouth. The desperate sound connected with his groin, tingling and tightening and pulling him taut and heavy with need. Her sound hit the button on his restraint and unleashed his desire. Heat suffused his skin, burning his cheeks, scorching his neck. Biological response—it was happening. A moment of panic hit him, but he squashed it down under his new strange power sparking in little bursts, skipping down his spine to curl his toes. There was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. It would always happen with her. And right now when he had her responsive in his arms… he liked it.
Envy (The Deadly Seven Book 1) Page 14