With Everything I Am (The Three #2)(24)

Even though this made sense, Callum didn’t like it.

Not only that they missed it, and in missing it could have killed her, but also the fact that it made him feel a strange sense of unease that the information was hidden, protected, secret. Medical records were confidential but why would this life-threatening condition be guarded so thoroughly? In case of an emergency, wouldn’t that information need to be readily available?

His eyes moved to Sonia and at what he saw, he let go of the disquiet he felt. Right then, he had more important things to deal with.

“Is it snowing down there?” Callum asked.

“Flurries,” Ryon answered.

“It’s not flurries up here. The man you sent may need a snow mobile or an ATV, but, whatever it takes, he gets that medication here by tonight. Is that understood?”

“I talked to the doctor, Cal. I know how important this is,” Ryon returned calmly. “I sent Waring. He knows this is priority and it’s for the queen. He’s a good man. He’ll be there with the meds.”

Callum felt his body go stiff. “Does he know –?”

“Cal, don’t ask that question,” Ryon broke in softly. “He doesn’t know what’s in the parcel just that the queen requested it.”

Ryon, Callum knew, would never expose Sonia’s weakness. Only the inner circle (that would be Callum, Ryon and Callum’s blood brothers, Caleb and Calder) would know of this latest development.

Callum changed the subject. “Any more on the plot?”

“We’re widening the net.”

“I want regular reports.”

“You’ll get them.”

“Later,” Callum muttered.

“Good luck,” Ryon replied, his voice filled with humor, his overhearing the conversation between Callum and Sonia telling the tale.

Callum didn’t reply. He snapped the phone shut.

Sonia was preparing lunch which looked as if it consisted of an enormous salad and nothing else.

No, actually, Sonia looked like she was punishing the vegetables that would soon be their lunch if her frenzied use of the knife was anything to go by.

Callum shoved the phone in his back pocket, slid off the stool and rounded the counter making his way toward her.

He got within feet when she whirled and lifted the knife, not to brandish it at him, to point it at him.

“Don’t you get near me,” she snapped, jerking the knife at him on the word “you”. Then she turned back to the carrot she was annihilating and kept chopping. “You could have killed me.”

“I’m aware of that, little one,” he replied, forcing his voice to be soft.

Her shoulders tensed but she kept chopping. “I pray to God whoever has my meds gets here in time.”

“They’ll get here,” he said firmly.

“I would say I’d never forgive you for this but if this hadn’t ended the way I hope,” she whirled on the word “hope” and narrowed her gaze at him, “it will, I wouldn’t be around long enough to forgive.”

Her declaration rattled him even further but he didn’t let it show.

“Stop chopping and put down the knife,” Callum ordered gently and she instantly adhered to his command. Slamming the knife down on the counter and picking up the cutting board, she dumped the carrot on top of the salad leaves already in a bowl.

She did this clumsy in her anger and carrots went everywhere.

She ignored the raining carrots, slammed the cutting board back down and reached for a cucumber.

He advanced, positioning himself behind her and caught her wrists, both of them, and wrapped her arms around her belly along with his own as he leaned down so his mouth was at her ear.

Her entire frame, from head-to-toe, tensed at his touch.

He ignored it and murmured, “I’m sorry I worried you, baby doll.”

As a child she was, in his sharp recollection, a living doll. He’d never forgotten her, not a single feature, not a moment.

He had been pleased that morning to hear she hadn’t forgotten him either and more pleased that their meeting had clearly had as profound an effect on her as it had on him. It gave him another sliver of hope that she understood their connection on some level and she might, soon, embrace it (heartily).

On that thought, he pulled her deeper into his body.

She was silent through this.

“Sonia,” he called.

“I’ll accept your apology the minute your man walks through that door.”

“Fair enough,” he agreed.

“Now, take your hands off me,” she demanded.

“No,” he replied.

She went even stiffer.

Callum ignored it again.

“My people are affectionate, Sonia. We touch. We hug. We cuddle.” Amongst other, more pleasurable things he decided it sensible not to share at that moment. “You’re going to need to get used to this.”

“Well, I don’t have any people therefore I’m not used to cuddling, touching and hugging. Especially guys I’ve known for a few hours. Now, take your hands off me!” she snapped.

His response was to pull her closer.

Her response was to go even stiffer.

He decided to change the subject and said, “If you think I’m eating salad for lunch –”