say something, and he wasn’t sure what. Then the helicopter banked a hard right and spun, battered by the storm.
Promise banged her head back. “We are so going to die.”
Chapter Eleven
Like any puzzle of the universe, Promise was going to figure out this one. She walked from the en suite bath to the vacant bedroom and finished toweling water from her hair after a hot shower in an apartment in the high-rise downtown, just a couple floors below the office she’d visited earlier. They’d landed the helicopter, midstorm, right on the gravel covered roof.
Ronan had explained the building would serve as a safe house for the time being.
How was her life in such a state that she required a safe house? She had already dressed in a nice pair of yoga pants and a T-shirt sporting Snoopy meditating on what appeared to be a human brain filled with shoes. Who in the world would wear such a shirt?
She glanced down at the yellow material. At least it was soft and clean.
As was she. She eyed the scrapes down her right arm from fighting the sand. She’d been in fight-or-flight mode on the beach and hadn’t felt the pain. Unlike now. Now her arm stung.
The room held high-end furniture with an overlarge king-sized bed covered in a dark blue comforter. A dresser and two nightstands were the only other fixtures, and they were lacking in knickknacks or anything personal. But the bed. She eyed it. The item was huge.
She quickly secured her wet hair in a ponytail holder from the cosmetics bag left for her in the bathroom. All new makeup, lotions, hair clips, and so on that had been provided.
The low rumble of male voices came from the living room just beyond her door, and she recognized Ivar’s from his hoarse rasp. Were they arguing about something? She had just moved to press her ear to the door when somebody knocked on it. She yelped and jumped back. “Um, come in?”
The door opened, and a woman walked inside carrying a black doctor’s bag. “Hi. I’m Faith.” She was tallish with sharp features and brown eyes that shone with intelligence. Her brown hair was swept atop her head, and she wore a lovely red silk shirt, pressed jeans, and stylish brown boots. “Rumor has it you might need a doctor.” She shut the door and looked Promise up and down.
Promise backed away. “What kind of a doctor?” Who were these people?
Faith smiled, showing a dimple in her right cheek. “Neurologist. Dr. Faith Cooper, at your service.”
Wait a minute. Faith Cooper? Promise narrowed her gaze and tried to picture the vivacious woman the way she’d last seen her in a black-and-white magazine photograph. “I read your article last year regarding quantum neuroscience and the limits of consciousness. It was fascinating.”
Faith’s eyes sparkled. “Thank you. We had tons of fun researching that and just played around with existing theories to question whether there could be temporal patterns of electromagnetic fields that could somehow affect levels of brain space.”
Okay. So this definitely was Faith Cooper. “What are you doing here?” Promise asked, her body aching everywhere from the fall.
“Well, it’s a long story,” Faith said. “Short version is that I’m engaged to Ronan Kayrs and am taking a sabbatical from the hospital to help my sister heal from being in a coma for a few years.”
Every brain cell in Promise’s head bellowed that there was a lot more to the story than that, but Faith had tried to give her a short version. Promise’s left ankle protested against standing any longer, so she backed away and sat on the edge of the bed. “I have you to thank for the clothes?”
Faith’s smile widened. “Yes. They’re for yoga, and I didn’t know how bruised you might be, so I figured loose would be better.”
“It is. Thank you,” Promise said, her mind reeling. “Where is Ivar?”
“Outside the room. I thought I could check you over before we grab something to eat.” Faith glanced at her watch. “It’s well after midnight, and I’m starving. How about you?”
Food? The other woman could think of food right now? “How did Ivar and I survive a leap off a cliff that high?” she asked, her skin pricking. Enough with the secrets that didn’t make sense.
Faith eyed the scratches on Promise’s arm and opened the bag to draw out ointment. “He’s trained to jump and roll.”
“Malarkey,” Promise burst out. “Nobody is trained to survive gravity at that height.” She accepted the