Free Forged in Smoke (A Red-Hot SEALs Novel Book 3) by Trish McCallan Page B

emergency stash of Cordarone in my pocket.” She rushed the last sentence out, suspecting he’d understand how dangerous tachycardia was. “So I’ve been taking those meds.”
    “A stash in your pocket?” he repeated slowly, his face tight. “Why? In case the tachycardia hits unexpectedly even though you’re on medication?”
    Well, he’d figured that out way too fast for her liking. “Arrhythmia can be brought on by stress, so before leaving the motel for the lab the night your team found me, I grabbed the old vial of Cordarone and shoved it in my pocket—just in case the adrenaline of sneaking into the lab brought on an episode. There’s still some pills left, but I’ll need more soon.”
    “How soon?” His question hit the air like a demand.
    “I’ve got four doses left.” She winced at the thunderstorm that swept across his face.
    “You take a pill twice a day?” He didn’t wait for her nod. Just shook his head, disbelief wrestling with the thunder on his face. “Sweet Jesus, Faith. That’s only two days’ worth, and that’s assumin’ you don’t need an emergency dose in between. What were you thinkin’?”
    She set her jaw. “I was thinking that I needed to ask you how I could refill my medications without anyone being the wiser since I’m supposed to be dead, and I have some super-secret, nasty organization on the lookout for me. I’ve been trying to track you down to ask for help.”
    “You could have—” He broke off to take another series of those obvious deep breaths. “Okay, let’s back up. I’ll talk to Wolf as soon as he returns.” Another breath and the darkness lifted from his face. “What doses are you takin’?”
    He didn’t write down the dosages Faith rattled off, but she didn’t doubt he committed them to memory. She relaxed—he was so much easier to talk to than Mackenzie, or even Cosky and Zane.
    “I’ll need to up the dosage for a few weeks, though. So we’ll need to account for that.” This wouldn’t be her first fight against organ rejection, if she followed the previous dosage protocols, she’d be fine.
    “Okay, darlin’,” he said, his drawl back in full force. “Don’t fret, we’ll get you hooked up with your meds.” He paused to eye her cautiously. “I reckon I should have a listen to your heart. Make sure your ticker is working all proper.”
    She backed up a couple of steps, swarms of butterflies erupting in her belly. “That’s not necessary.”
    “I disagree,” he countered firmly before making an obvious effort to lighten his tone. “And who’s the doctor here?”
    When she took another long step back, he took a matching one forward.
    “I am,” she announced, knowing her PhD in alternative energy wasn’t the kind of doctor’s degree he was talking about. “In fact”—she took another cautious step back, her pulse spiking as he followed her—“since you didn’t finish your residency, I believe I’m the only doctor in the room.” When the retort hit the air, it was laced with a snide superiority she hadn’t intended, and she stopped dead in mortification. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that the way it came out.”
    “Darlin’.” The solemn, slightly hurt tone of his voice was belied by the twitch to his lip. “Y’all done demolished my mas-cu-lin-ity.”
    After studying his straight face for a moment, she lifted her eyebrows. She suspected nothing anyone said or did could dent his self-confidence.
    “Let me guess,” she said dryly. “My reparation somehow ends with you listening to my heart.”
    He grinned and waggled his eyebrows. “Well now, that does sound like an apology I can live with.” When she continued to hesitate, he dropped the humor. “You want to tell me what’s kickin’ around in that head of yours? After fifteen years, you must be an old hat at checkups by now.”
    She frowned. Granted, more men than she could count had listened to her heart over the span of her life. But none of them had