Echo 8 (11 page)

He met her gaze. “They intend for me to train while I'm here. Garcia notified me today.”

She frowned. “Did he say why?”

“Not yet. I think it has something to do with the Echoes. He's coming here to discuss it with us.”

“When?”

“I should know soon.”

Tess eyed him, uneasy. She didn't like the idea of his agency getting more involved in their work. She knew full well she didn't have any right to expect they wouldn't. But the FBI viewed the Echoes as a threat to public safety. Ross's superiors didn't care that Jake and the others had once been human. What she and Jake had discovered could resolve all this—
if
she could make the administration listen to her. She was counting on Ross's help for that.

“It's interesting to me that you've used your ability without even being aware of it,” Tess said. “When I spoke earlier about suppression, I was talking about individuals who block or sabotage their abilities. Can you tell me about a hunch you've had since you've been here? Something that's ended up happening?”

Ross stared at his glass, turning it in his hands. “I knew Jake would attack you when we went in there last night.”

“That's right, you told me.”

“Anyone could have guessed that. It's what they do.”

“True enough. But tell me more about your hunch. Was it
just
your sense of the danger of me going into a room with an Echo?”

He considered this, lifting his eyebrows after a moment. “I'd forgotten this until now, but I had a dream the night before.”

“About the attack?”

“Not really. It made no sense, like most dreams. You and I were arguing about something—I can't remember what.”

“I'm sorry to inform you that was no dream. It really happened.”

The corners of his lips turned up. He had a boyish, charming smile that she hadn't gotten to see often enough.

“We were sitting at a table in the cafeteria,” he continued, “and there was a plate between us. There was a donut on it—one of those powdered-sugar ones. I was trying to give it to you, and you wouldn't take it.”

“That doesn't sound very much like me.” She laughed. “What makes you think the dream was related to the attack?”

“You never touched the donut, but at one point you showed me your hands and there was powdered sugar all over them. Then you just disappeared.”

“Powdered sugar…” It tugged at her memory, but a couple moments passed before she figured out why. “You're thinking of that white residue I touched on the floor, before Jake reappeared.”

Ross nodded. “After you disappeared I woke up in a panic. The dream made no sense to me, but the first thing I did was ask Abby whether she'd seen you. It could just be a coincidence, though, couldn't it?”

“Absolutely. That's why we conduct studies rather than relying on anecdotal evidence. But if you've had a lot of hunches play out in a similar way, I'd call that psi. Would you say you have?”

She lifted the wine bottle from the coffee table and refilled their glasses. Ross let out a sigh.

“Yeah, I would.”

“But you don't always trust them. You didn't forbid me from going into the lab.”

His jaw dropped as he turned to stare at her. “I absolutely did. You just told me why I was wrong and did it anyway. I'm pretty sure
your
special ability is always getting your way.”

She laughed so hard she had to set down her glass. He handed her his napkin so she could wipe wine from her chin.

“I've second-guessed myself a lot here,” he continued in a more sober tone. “It's part of the reason I thought I should leave.”

“Calmer, nonemotional states are more conducive to success with psi. We've been under a lot of strain.”

She studied his profile. He was clearly uneasy about all this.

“Listen,” she said, “it doesn't matter what you call it—precognition, good instincts, intuition—it's part of you, and it's a good thing. You're lucky to have it. We can definitely help you enhance it. If you learn to use it more consistently, more confidently, it will help you in your job.”

“Well, it sounds like I'm not going to have any choice about that. We'll see what the director says when he comes.” He set his glass down and angled toward her. “You told Jake this morning that your mother had psi ability.”

*   *   *

It didn't occur to him that he was more buzzed than he should be off two glasses of wine until he watched Tess's face fall and remembered this was something she didn't like to discuss.

“Yes,” she said quietly, shifting her gaze to the coffee table. “Not as strong as yours I don't think.”

“You were close to her?”

She gave a slow nod.

“Jake told me…”
Bad idea, McGinnis
.

“Jake told you what?”

Ross believed this discussion needed to happen. But he was keenly aware of the risk of mangling it.

“We had a strange conversation right before you came down the last time,” he began carefully. “He told me he'd learned some things about you—about both of us, actually—during the energy transfer. He was worried about something that had happened in your past. He was worried the risks you were taking had to do with whatever it was.”

She sank back against the couch, crossing her arms over her chest. “Are you sure this is your business, Ross?”

“I'm sure it's
not
. But as the person assigned to keep you alive, it would help me to know whether…” He trailed off, feeling less and less sure of himself. “I know you carry a lot of pain, and not because I have psychic abilities. I doubt it will come as a shock to you that the Bureau has a file on you, and that I've read it. I know about your mother's death. I know about the meds. I know you were hospitalized for depression when you were a teenager.”

Her voice trembled as she replied, “You may have been in my file, but that doesn't make it okay for you to go fishing around in my head.”

Mission mangled
. He rose from the sofa and took a step away, trying to compose his thoughts over the effects of both the wine and the energy transfers.

“You're right,” he said. “It's not my business, and I'm sorry. Really all I need to say is this: If you push me to a choice between you and Jake again, Jake's going to lose. What happened with him after lunch may have been a show, but he could have killed you. I won't let it happen again. If you want to keep him alive, you need to place more value on your own life.”

*   *   *

As suddenly as the heat came it went, leaving her cold. She folded her hands over her shoulders and sank her face into her arms, shivering. She felt like the little girl with the dead mother. The girl whose father had just told her she was young and she'd forget.

She felt the sofa depress beside her as Ross sat down again, draping a blanket over her shoulders. “I'm sorry,” he repeated, more softly this time. “Do you want me to leave?”

He reminded her of her father in many ways—self-assured and overbearing. Quick to judge others. But over the last twenty-four hours she'd come to believe that Ross had a heart.

And how was he to know about the thing in the well? He couldn't, because no one did. Not the shrinks, not anyone. She had to find a way to quiet it, because this was one thing she knew she could not face. Not now, when she needed every particle of concentration to do her job and stay alive. Maybe not ever.

Breathing deeply, she let herself sink against his shoulder. Slowly his arm came around her. She felt his breath in her hair, and she listened to his heart.

There was something else about Ross. She felt safe when she was with him.

*   *   *

Tess fell asleep in Ross's arms. He dozed for a while too but woke with a start as he remembered Jake. Glancing at his watch he saw it had been four hours since the last transfer.

She didn't stir as he eased away from her, lowering her to the couch and covering her with blankets. He'd have been worried about her if he hadn't just felt the slow, steady beat of her heart against his abdomen.

As he left the apartment the lights in the hallway came up automatically. He headed down and made his way to the lab. Jake met him at the window, scanning behind him for Tess.

“I know I'm not your favorite flavor, but you'll just have to deal.”

Jake smirked. “Twice in a row now. To what do I owe this sacrifice?”

“She's exhausted.” So was he, but he was reluctant to enlist the other agents to help with the transfers until they'd worked out the bugs. They couldn't keep going like this, though.

Jake must have been hungry, because he dropped the heckling and held his hand to the window. The fade closed his eyes, and his breaths came long and deep. Ross felt the tug of the current, and again he was surprised Tess hadn't complained of the pain. It was nothing like the first time, but it wasn't pleasant.

After a moment Jake's mouth curved down in a frown, and he said, “You really are an asshole. Could you think about something else?”

“What?”

Then he realized his thoughts had drifted to Tess—the sound of her laugh, the feel of her breath against his skin, the shape of her body where she'd pressed into his side.…

“Christ, come
on
,” moaned Jake.

“So you're reading our minds now?”

“I told you I could see things.” Jake glared at Ross. “Especially
loud
things.”

Jake's hand dropped away from the window, and he walked back to the bed.

“You're welcome,” Ross muttered, leaving him alone.

He went back to Tess's apartment to check on her, and so he'd be there when she woke in a panic about Jake. He'd spent maybe fifteen minutes scanning distractedly through email when she sat up, muttering, “Damn.”

She swung her legs down, and he called, “Relax, Doctor.”

She glanced up, startled.

“Sorry.” He rose and crossed from the kitchen table to the couch. “I knew you'd be worried about Jake. He's fine.”

She ran her fingers through her mussed hair and stood up. “He needs a transfer.” Her voice was still hoarse from sleep. Creaky and sexy.

“I took care of it.”

Her gaze shifted back to his face. “Thank you. Again. You should get some sleep. I can take the next one.”

“Let's both get some sleep. Then we'll go down together and train one of the other agents.”

She smiled. “Yes. Good idea.”

Her hands came together in front of her, fingers fidgeting. She was uncharacteristically nervous and unsure.

“Are you okay, Doctor?”

Her gaze moved around the room. “I guess I'm just finding it hard to say good night.” As soon as she'd said it she looked mortified.

“Today has been pretty intense,” he replied, attempting to ease her discomfort. “I can stay if you want company.”

Her hands relaxed at her sides. “How about some tea?”

“Thanks,” he said, moving to the couch, “but I should probably dial back the caffeine.”

“I have chamomile.” She walked to the kitchen and flipped on the kettle. “And peppermint.”

“Peppermint sounds good.”

She came back with the mugs and sat next to him on the couch. Their sneakers lined up on the edge of the antique trunk.

“Are those standard issue, Agent McGinnis?”

“Only the black ones.”

“Ah, of course.”

She blew steam from the top of her mug. “Were you surprised that Director Garcia denied your request for reassignment?”

He picked up the teabag string, swirling it around in the water. “I was, yes.”

“I'm less surprised after seeing your psi evaluation. Though I'm still not clear on what it was you thought you'd done wrong.”

He cast her a sidelong glance, remembering what she'd accused him of earlier—“fishing around” in her head. He supposed it was fair enough.

“It wasn't so much what I'd done. I let something happen I shouldn't have.”

“You're talking about Jake? The attack?”

“Not only that.”

She waited for him to continue. There were plenty of reasons not to be straight with her, but he'd tried that before. She was damn tough to evade.

“Do you remember anything from the night of the attack?”

“Not much besides the attack itself.”

“Nothing from after, in my apartment?”

Color rose to her cheeks, and her eyelashes fluttered. “No. Just the next morning.”

“You woke once in the night, or seemed to. You…”

The words froze in his throat.
No turning back now
.

“You kissed me.”

“I
what
?” She let out a nervous laugh. “Ross, I'm so sorry. I don't remember that at all.”

“No, I know. It's not a problem, Doctor. I didn't believe you were conscious at the time.”

“I really … right on the mouth?”

Now he laughed. “Yes.”

“Jesus. What did you do?”

“I didn't do anything. I'm sorry. I should have told you. I should have…”

She rubbed her lips together, and she set down her tea. Folding her hands in her lap, she said, “Well, I'm sure it violated all kinds of stuffy, men-in-black regulations, but I think you're being a little hard on yourself. Requesting reassignment because your
assignment
kissed you.”

“Not because of the kiss.”

“Then why?”

He met her gaze. “Because I wasn't sure what I would do if it happened again.”

*   *   *

Despite suspecting there was something like this behind Ross's request, she was completely unprepared for his confession. She'd dropped her eyes, and the blood rushed to her face as she realized she was staring at his lips. It was colossally unfair she had no memory of what they felt like.