"Ronan's loaded into the ambulance. We'd better get moving.” He walked away from her, heading away from the truck. She grabbed his arm and tugged him in the right direction. “I'm driving. Why won't you answer the question?"
"Why did you run from Rosehall?"
"I've already told you. I was afraid.” She unlocked the truck and opened the door for him. He climbed in awkwardly, wincing a little and grabbing at his injured leg.
"If that starts bleeding,” she added, “you're going straight back to hospital."
"Not before we catch this killer.” As she climbed into the driver's side and started the engine, he added, “If you did really love me, you would have stayed."
She swung into the traffic and headed towards Summit Street. “Let's try a little reverse psychology. Let's say you were eighteen and just beginning to explore the boundaries of your sexuality. You fall for a much older woman—"
"Six years is not that much older."
"When you're eighteen, twenty-four is almost a quarter of a century and that's old.” She grinned, but it faded quickly. “You thought you loved that woman, but then she turned around and did something your upbringing tells you is abhorrent. You're left thinking there's no way she could have done that if she'd felt even the tiniest bit of caring.” She glanced at him. “Would you have stayed, or would you have run?"
His gaze raked her, but his expression gave little away. She was tempted, so very tempted, to just ease into his mind and uncover his thoughts, but that was something she'd sworn never to do, not without good cause, anyway. And no matter how badly she might want to know what he was thinking, he had the right to his privacy.
Something those at that academy of his never thought to mention.
"If I have to answer honestly, then I don't know. I'm not you, Vannah. I will never react to a situation the same way you would."
"So you've never been in love?"
"No. And I don't believe you were, either. I read your thoughts, remember. Or raided them, as you keep insisting."
"You read some of my thoughts,” she refuted softly. “The shields of a wolf from the golden pack work in interwoven layers rather than the straight levels of power that you have. It works better, simply because it is harder to break through.” She glanced at him. “You have only three levels. I have nearly eight."
Incredulity briefly touched his eyes. “Why would any telepath need so many?"
"You try living in a pack that's totally telepathic. It's a requirement, believe me."
"I thought your pack didn't believe in raiding another's mind."
"We don't. But that doesn't mean it doesn't happen.” She hesitated, and then said, “Was Rosehall the job that became more?"
"You know it is."
"If I knew, I wouldn't be asking. You gave me nothing, Cade. Well, nothing except great sex."
"I gave you three days."
She frowned. “What do you mean?"
He blew out a breath. “I had a job to do and a time in which to do it. I missed that deadline by three days, simply because I was afraid of the consequences. And because of that, another person died."
As the lights ahead changed from green to red, she slowed and shot him a glance. “You can't be held responsible for that."
"If I'd done what I was there to do, when I was supposed to do it, that person might not have died."
"And you might not have caught Jontee if you'd gone after him earlier."
He shrugged. She frowned at him and asked, “What other consequences were you talking about?"
"Jeopardizing the first piece of happiness I'd found in a long, long time.” His gaze held hers, seeming to burn right through her, until it felt as if he were reaching into her very soul. “You were more than a job to me, Savannah."
She licked her lips, her throat dry and her heart pounding unsteadily. Not from fear, not from excitement, but rather, an uneven mix of the two. Because what he was admitting wasn't a guarantee of a future, nor was it an admission that he cared now. But he had cared, even if only a little, and for now, that was a very good place for hope to start.
"And yet you still invaded my mind."