Forged in Smoke (Red-Hot SEALs #3)(81)

Wolf’s smile was slow and deadly. “Your biitei will answer the questions you put to it and speak with truth.”

“How can you possibly promise that? It just has to say no thanks and vamoose,” Faith protested.

Wolf shrugged, his gaze never leaving Rawls’s face. “The binding ceremony will give it no choice. It will answer your questions. It will speak the truth.”

“The binding ceremony?” Faith repeated with interest in her voice. “Is that along the same lines as this?” She nodded toward the amulet beneath Rawls’s shirt.

For the first time, Wolf looked uneasy. It reminded Rawls of Jude’s expression in the cavern when he’d quizzed him on how the amulet worked.

“It is best not to speak of such strong medicine,” Wolf said. He turned back to Rawls, his expression flat. “The elders are preparing for the ceremony. You will call the biitei once the circle has closed.”

Yeah . . . Rawls had no idea what the guy had just said or whether this binding ceremony, whatever it was, would work—but what the heck, it wouldn’t hurt to give it a try. Besides, Wolf and his people certainly knew a lot more about the workings of ghosts than he did.

“Fine. When do you want to do this?”

“Soon. I will return when they are ready for you.” With that announcement, Wolf pivoted and disappeared out the swinging door. When the door swung back open, Zane came through it.

He paused just inside the viewing room and nodded at Faith, but his flat, unreadable gaze never budged from Rawls’s face. “You got a minute?”

Faith caught Rawls’s gaze, her own eyes soft and filled with sympathy. No question that she’d picked up on how much he’d been dreading this moment.

The fallout from his admission had been postponed by Wolf’s arrival and the withdrawal from the hub. But it had been clear a reckoning was in his future. This seemed hardly the time to settle things. But the confrontation was upon him and he wasn’t going to bail on it.

Rawls gave Faith’s hand a squeeze and let it go. He followed Zane out of the control room and through the medical bay. The electric entrance slid open and then closed behind them with an airy whoosh, expelling them into a diminutive, gun-metal gray parking area of maybe twenty by twenty-five feet. Most of the striped parking slots, which were barely large enough to accommodate the facility’s golf carts and ATVs, sat empty beneath the sputtering glow of a malfunctioning fluorescent light. Zane paused to scan the deserted backdrop before swinging around to face him.

Rawls braced himself.

“Mac wants to huddle.”

Okay, that wasn’t what he’d been expecting. “When?”

“Tonight. After we’ve had a chance to look things over. Keep your eyes open, and your ears sharp.”

Rawls simply nodded. The order was redundant. By now, years into their careers, it was impossible to turn their scrutiny off. Hell, his eyes were open and his ears sharp while snacking at a company barbeque.

“This is why you’ve been climbing the walls? This ghost?” Zane abruptly asked, his face neutral. Voice calm.

And there it was.

“Pretty much,” Rawls admitted, holding his LC’s eyes steadily.

Zane frowned, shook his head, a glint of anger sparking in his eyes. “You forget who the f*ck I am?”

Rawls pulled back, opened his mouth. How was he supposed to answer that?

“For Christ’s sake, you ass. You’ve trusted my visions for years. Trusted me without question, without corroborating evidence, without proof—why the hell wouldn’t you give me the same benefit of doubt when it came to what you were seeing?”

Rawls’s mouth slammed shut. He grimaced. Rolled his shoulders. “It’s not the same thing.”

“Bullshit.” There was a glint of anger in Zane’s eyes as they touched his face.

“It isn’t,” Rawls pointed out tightly. “Your visions happen. There’s your proof.”

“You didn’t know that the first time you acted on them,” Zane snapped back. “You trusted me. I trusted you. That’s what saved our asses back then.”

Fair point. But still, Pachico was different. The whole situation was different. “You knew what you were seeing was real. Was about to happen.”

Zane cocked his head, reined the anger in. “And?”

“I didn’t. Hell, for days I was certain I’d had a psychotic break. Certain the bastard was a product of my broken mind.”

The anger faded from Zane’s face. He ran a hand over his hair. “You should have told me.”

“Hell no,” Rawls said flatly. “You’re my LC. You’d be obligated to relieve me of duty. Report the incident up the chain. You’d have no choice but to turn me in. I’d lose my spot in the beach boat. Lose my spot on the teams. And you know damn well I’d never get the okay again, even if Pachico had disappeared before I stepped in the headshrinker’s office.”

Zane’s sharp crack of laughter echoed between the concrete walls surrounding them. “Has it escaped your notice that we don’t currently have a damn chain of command to report to?”

That stopped Rawls, but just for a moment. “When we’re clear—”

“Have you been paying any attention to what’s going on at all? It won’t matter if we’re cleared,” Zane broke in, frustration and anger throbbing in his voice. “We’re on f*cking national television. Our faces everywhere. When we’re cleared, the story will be even bigger than it is now. We’ve lost any f*cking chance of getting back to our squads—period. We’re f*cking done.”