Death Touch novel · Chapter 5 of 24

Chapter 5: Fingertip

"Take off the glove," Dalton said.

It was five-thirty the next morning, and the training room was cold enough to see my breath.

I had slept two hours.

He stood across the steel table from me in a grey t-shirt and army pants, with his right sleeve rolled to the elbow.

His forearm was corded and tanned and covered in old scars.

There was no plant on the table.

"Where's the leaf?"

"Dead leaves are too easy." He laid his hand flat on the metal between us, palm down. "I want you to touch me."

My stomach dropped.

"No."

"One fingertip. One second. On the knuckle."

"You'll die."

"You've got control of it now. You held it for twenty seconds yesterday."

"On a leaf!"

"On a leaf," he agreed. "And last night on Talmadge's neck, and you were angrier then. You're not going to kill me, Hargett."

He said it flat.

I did not believe him.

"Why would you risk it?"

"Because it's the job."

"That's not an answer."

"It's the only one you're getting."

I looked at his hand.

It was a good hand, wide and square, with a thin white scar across the back.

I thought of the technician and his sleeve.

I thought of eighteen years of nobody touching me.

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