Forged in Smoke (Red-Hot SEALs #3)(41)
What had happened? Had that horrific, internal burn been a seizure? It was the only thing that made a modicum of sense, yet even that didn’t explain much. She’d coexisted with her medical conditions—not to mention all the medications she was taking—for fifteen years. In some cases, even longer, almost three decades. Seizures had never been a side effect or symptom she’d had to worry about. Could going off the suppressors have triggered something?
Except the burning hadn’t originated in her brain, and seizures were the result of electrical impulses misfiring in the synapses of the brain.
The sound of the front door opening pulled her from the chaotic circling of her thoughts. Expecting Rawls, she turned, only to find Kait stepping into the room. From the uncomfortable expression on her face, the other woman knew something.
“Rawls said you could use some company,” Kait said as she crossed the room.
“You saw him?” Faith glanced up, and then went back to inserting cloves of garlic into the roast.
“No. He called on the two-way radio.” Kait held the short, square radio up as though offering proof.
Since cell service didn’t work up here, everyone had been given a walkie-talkie, or two-way radios as the men called them. The devices operated from radio to radio on a fixed frequency and didn’t require cell tower service, so they’d proved remarkably handy for keeping everyone connected. While the range of the instruments was restricted—up to thirty miles according to Wolf—the limitations hadn’t had any effect on the radios’ reception, but then everyone was hanging out within shouting distance of each other.
“How did he sound?” Faith bent and slipped the roast into the oven, before crossing to the sink to wash the stink of garlic from her hands.
“Fine.” Kait closed in on the counter with its array of baked goods. After a quick glance at Faith, she lifted her shoulders and reached for a knife, slicing off a hunk of zucchini bread. “He didn’t say much, though. Just that you weren’t feeling well and could use some company.”
The cold knot inside her stomach she hadn’t even been aware of prior to this moment loosened and warmed. He’d been concerned for her. Still, she didn’t particularly want the companionship.
“I appreciate the thought, but I’m fine.” At the lift to Kait’s eyebrows, she forced a smile. “Honestly. I’m fine.”
Which was actually the truth. Her heart rate had slowed to normal, and the threat of a stress-induced attack of tachycardia was well behind her now.
And she suspected she’d remain that way as long as that strange malady didn’t strike again. Had that been Rawls’s reason for sending Kait over? To make sure she wasn’t alone if that awful burning agony struck again? Or had he hoped to facilitate a discussion between her and Kait on the supposed benefits of metaphysical healing?
When it came right down to it, it didn’t matter why Rawls had sent Kait over. The woman’s mere presence brought a distinct sense of discomfort now that she knew about Kait’s claims of hands-on healing, and the fact that Kait knew she knew added to the tension. If he’d just been concerned about her being alone, Beth would have been a better choice. The fact that he’d reached out to Kait, rather than Beth, indicated he’d had dual purposes when choosing his proxy.
“Did Rawls happen to tell you what’s going on with him?” Kait finally asked while slathering a thick gloss of butter on the bread. She set the knife down and inhaled the slice in three bites.
Some of Faith’s suspicion eased at the other woman’s obvious appreciation of the zucchini bread. It was difficult to remain distant when your adversary appreciated your baking.
“No. He’s been annoyingly closemouthed about everything,” Faith said.
“Too bad. He doesn’t say much, but I know Marcus is worried about him.”
It took a moment for Faith to remember that Cosky’s given name was Marcus.
“I’m sure he’ll talk to someone when he’s ready,” Faith said, uncomfortably aware her voice sounded wooden.
Kait simply nodded. “Well, if you’re okay with it, I’ll stick around for a while.”
Faith started to insist, again, that she was fine and didn’t need the company, when a third reason for Kait’s sudden presence occurred to her. Maybe Kait was the one in search of companionship. After all, her lover was one of the men on that helicopter, immersed in a dangerous situation and quite possibly under fire. Maybe Rawls had known Kait needed a distraction and provided her with one.
If that were the case, it was too bad he hadn’t run his plan by her first, because she sucked at providing emotional support. Invariably, she always said the worst possible thing and made the recipient of her ineptness feel even worse than they had before.
Or she fumbled about in uncomfortable silence without the first clue as to what to say . . . rather like she was doing at the moment.
“You know that no one expects you to do all the cooking, right?” Kait dragged one of the counter stools back and took a seat. “We could make up a schedule, give everyone a day, and take the pressure off you.”
Relieved that the conversation had drifted away from the missing men and their mission, thereby disrupting any feeble attempts at reassurance on her end, Faith smiled more naturally.
“I love cooking,” she admitted. “I find it quite soothing. Besides, can you imagine Commander Mackenzie cooking us dinner?”