Fireborn (18 page)

“These people
killed
my boss. They've also made several attempts at snatching me, one of them successfully—”

“None of which would have happened if you'd just done as you were told,” he cut in.

“You don't believe that any more than I do,” I retorted. “So can we just cut the shit and get down to the questions? I want to get out of here.”

He studied me for several seconds, and my heart began to beat just that little bit faster. Because there was hunger in his eyes—a hunger that had nothing to do with the deeper darkness within him and everything to do with desire. He still wanted me. After all that he'd said, after all the anger and hurt and sense of betrayal—a
betrayal both us felt, for very different reasons—he still wanted me.

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Because if there was one certainty in this life, it was that he and I would never end happily.

I turned away to break the spell of his gaze and took a gulp of tea. It didn't do a whole lot to ease the fires that had begun to burn low down in my belly.

“Fine,” he said abruptly. “What, exactly, did you get out of Lee Rawlings?”

I looked at him sharply. “Nothing. He wasn't there. You guys turned up and no doubt scared him away.”

He gave me a long look. “We both know that's not the truth. Adam picked up the resonance of another life as we approached. Someone else
was
there.”

“Adam was wrong.” I started pacing again. The coldness in the room was beginning to get to me—it crawled across my skin like a live thing and made me shiver.

“Adam is a vampire. He's never wrong when it comes to the resonance of life.”

“Well, I guess that naturally means I'm lying, then, doesn't it?”

“I guess it does. The question is, why? We're both after the same thing—we want the people behind these murders brought down.”

“I want answers, Sam, and I'm not likely to get them from you, am I?” I downed the rest of the tea and tossed the cup toward the table. He caught it
reflexively, his actions so fast they were almost a blur. I frowned. “What is going on with you? You've changed, and I don't just mean emotionally—”

“We're not here to talk about me,” he said, voice still surprisingly mild despite the flicker of annoyance in his eyes. “Stop changing the subject and start answering questions.”

I continued pacing but crossed my arms, trying to ward off the growing chill. “I have nothing to say to any of you. You can leave me in this cell to rot if you want, but I can't tell you what I don't know.”

“Sadly, I knew you'd say that.”

I gave him another sharp glance. “And what does that mean?”

“It means you were right. The tea was drugged.”

Blood drained from my face and I stopped abruptly. “What?”

He shrugged and rose. “I figured you wouldn't cooperate, so we dropped a little something into the tea to ensure that you would.”

“But you drank some of it.”

“Only a sip. It wasn't anywhere enough to affect me.” He hesitated. “I
am
sorry, but it was a necessary step. We need answers, Em, and we need them now.”

I stepped away from him. But that chill in my body was growing, making my feet go numb, and I stumbled. Sam caught my right elbow and directed me backward, until my back was pressed against concrete. He placed his other hand under my left shoulder, effectively pinning me.

“Tell me what Lee Rawlings said.”

He was close.
So
close. His breath teased my lips and his warm, woody scent filled every breath, making my nipples pucker and sending slivers of desire curling through my belly. The desire in his gaze sharpened a caress of heat that rolled over me, making me tremble, making me yearn.

I opened my mouth, then closed it again. Took a deep breath and released it slowly. “Go fuck yourself, Sam.”

Anger flared, deep and fierce. Its intensity was frightening. But once again it was just as swiftly smothered. “Trust me, I was fucked a
long
time ago. Now, just answer the damn question, Red.”

I closed my eyes and battled the need to obey. It would have been far easier to give him what he wanted, but something within me just wouldn't allow it. He was right. I could be bloody stubborn when I wanted to be. Stupid, even. Because really, what was I gaining by resisting? Nothing, absolutely nothing.

I licked my lips, saw his gaze drop to follow the movement. Heat rolled over me, thick with desire, fanning the flames within to greater heights.

“What is the drug you gave me?”

“N41A. It's designed to restrict certain paranormal powers and also acts as a truth serum of sorts. What did Rawlings tell you?”

That he was just another delivery boy, that the real meet was with a Henry Morretti in Laverton
. But somehow, I kept the words inside. “Define what you mean by restrict.”

“It means you will not be able to flame. It was created for those with talents such as telekinesis and pyrokinesis, but we figured it would probably work on rarer creatures such as yourself and the Fae.”

“I'm not human, Sam. You have no idea how that drug will affect me.”

“When you're in this form, human drugs will affect you the same way as they will affect any other human. In this case, it means you won't have full use of your flames for forty-eight hours.” He studied me for a moment, almost seeming to lean in closer, as if he intended to kiss me. But his gaze was on mine rather than my lips, and the fires of desire were banked in his eyes.

I wished I could say the same about mine.

“The Paranormal Investigations Team has a long history of studying nonhumans, and while phoenixes might be rare, they are
not
unknown to us.”

Meaning
if
he was right, I was without my one major form of protection. But they obviously didn't know everything. Any drug introduced into my system in flesh form would burn away in spirit, and no drug, no matter how strong, could stop a return to my true self. Only a lack of strength from within could do that and, right now, thanks to everything that had happened, I was running low on reserves. “They were unknown to
you
five years ago.”

“That was before I joined PIT. I've learned a whole lot in the last year or so.”

“Shame you never learned it's impolite to drug
the people you want cooperation from.” And it was a shame the words came out a whole lot huskier than I'd intended.

“We don't. It's only those we can't read and who won't cooperate we drug. Tell me about Rawlings, Emberly.”

I did. I couldn't help it. The words vomited from my mouth—Rawlings, his orders, the meeting details, even how much we'd paid for the information.

At the end of it, Sam grunted. “He said nothing else?”

I glared at him. “No.”

“Good.” He hesitated, his gaze sweeping my face and his lips suddenly closer even though he hadn't moved. “There's one other thing about the drug I forgot to mention.”

My stomach did a strange flip-flop, but I wasn't entirely sure whether the cause was his words or the brush of his breath against my lips as he spoke.

“Gee, color me surprised.” I intended sarcasm, but it came out far more breathless than that, and the desire in his blue eyes sharpened abruptly. It ran around me like a storm, and all I wanted was for it to sweep me away.

But that would be a very
bad
thing to happen. I had enough trouble now forgetting his kisses. I didn't need a refresher to make it all that much harder.

“That drug,” he said softly, his lips so close to mine I could practically taste them, “is also something of an enforcer. You
will
obey what I say now that it is in full effect.”

But thankfully, only until the moment I have the strength to take on my fire form.
“Damn it, Sam, don't do this.”

“You give me no other choice—”

“There's always a choice, Sam. You just have to want it enough.”

Again his gaze swept me, and I knew in that moment I wasn't mistaken, that he
did
want me. Badly. I was in a whole heap load of trouble if he actually acted on it.

“Emberly Pearson,” he continued softly. “You will not go anywhere near Henry Morretti or the meeting in Laverton. You will stop pursuing all leads pertaining to the murder of your boss.”

“Bastard.”

“Totally,” he agreed; then, a heartbeat later, his lips met mine.

It was a fierce thing, this kiss, both familiar and yet not. It was everything we'd once shared, and yet so very raw and different. It was hunger and desire, darkness and desperation, and it reflected all that we once were and all that had changed.

It proved how much I still wanted him—and he me—but it also confirmed just how different he now was. Because where once I'd tasted nothing more than joy and desire, heat and passion, there was now also ash and anger, fierce and barely restrained, and it spoke of the night and even darker urges. I'd never kissed a vampire, but I imagined they would taste something like this.

But Sam wasn't a bloodsucker. He'd been out in the sunshine often enough to prove that. I had no
idea what had happened to him, but the mere fact I could actually taste the changes scared the hell out of me.

He broke away with a suddenness that tore a gasp from my throat and left me dizzy and breathless. His gaze, when it locked on mine, was hot—hungry—and yet also very angry. With me, with himself, and with the world in general, I suspected.

“Stay away,” he growled, leaving me wondering if he meant from the case or from him.

Then he pushed away from the wall, away from me, and I collapsed into a heap on the floor. The last thing I remember seeing were his boots as he walked away.

They were the boots I'd given him as a birthday present six years ago.

A
s consciousness resurfaced, I realized I was no longer in the cell. Hard concrete still lay underneath me, but the chilled air was now filled with noise—the hum of traffic, the rumble of a tram rattling past, distant voices rising over the heavy bass beat of music. Obviously, we were no longer at PIT headquarters.

So where the hell had they dumped us?

I rolled onto my back only to discover there were madmen in my head armed with hammers they were not afraid to use. I groaned loudly.

A familiar voice said, “Yeah, I know exactly how you feel.”

I cracked open one eye. Jackson sat a couple of feet away, his back propped up against a huge wrought-iron strut that jutted out of the ground at an angle.

I frowned. “How”—the word came out scratchy and I paused, swallowing heavily in an attempt to ease the dryness in my throat—“the hell did we get back to the zipper sculpture?”

“I'm guessing your charming ex had us dumped
here.” He shrugged, his gaze sweeping me critically. “You okay?”

“Other than feeling like I've had far too much to drink without the fun of the alcohol, you mean?”

He laughed softly, then groaned. “God, don't make me do that. It hurts.”

“Meaning they drugged you, too? Or did they get a little more physical?”

“They drugged me.” He paused and added with a wry smile, “Though I wouldn't have minded getting physical. My interrogator was that Fae babe I've sensed a few times but never seen.”

Meaning Rochelle, no doubt. “How long have we been here? Do you know?”

He shrugged. “Five minutes or so.”

I slowly—carefully—pushed myself into a sitting position. It felt like my head was about to explode and, for several minutes, it was all I could do to keep breathing and not throw up. One thing was certain—I was not going to take fire form anytime soon. Not until I got to Rory, anyway.

Eventually, I said, “Did they order you way from Morretti and the Baltimore investigation?”

“Yeah.” He grimaced. “But the drug won't stop me from at least trying to head over to Laverton the minute we get in the cab.”

I didn't say anything, just watched as he took a deep, somewhat shuddering breath, then pushed to his feet. He stood there for a moment, body wavering and face green, then carefully shuffled toward me. “Come on. We need to get out of here.”

I accepted his offered hand and let him haul me upright, but I wasn't entirely sure in the end who was holding whom upright.

“I'm not going to be able to walk far in this state,” I muttered.

“There's a taxi stand down the street.”

I frowned. “What about your truck?”

“I don't think it's wise to be driving in this state. I'll retrieve it later.” He tucked his arm through mine, and we made our way slowly out of the canal and back onto Flemington Road. It was late, but there were still plenty of cars on the road, their headlights pinning us briefly in brightness before sweeping on.

Two cabs were waiting at the stand. We climbed into the first one, and the driver gave us a somewhat dubious look. “Where to?”

Jackson opened his mouth, but no words came out. He glanced at me, his expression suddenly furious. He really
couldn't
say the Laverton address. I licked my lips, picturing the address in my mind, determination high.

“We need to go,” I said, but got no further. The words really
wouldn't
come out.

Jackson swore violently, then said, “Sixty-five Stanley Street, West Melbourne.” When I glanced at him, he added, “My office. And home.”

I nodded and relaxed back in the seat as the cab took off. It didn't take all that long to get across to Stanley Street. Jackson paid the cabbie; then we both climbed out.

“Wow,” I said, looking around. The street was
wide but divided by center parking and pretty flowering trees, and the buildings lining either side of the road were a mix of light industrial and old Victorian. “Close to both the Queen Vic Market
and
Flagstaff Gardens. The rent here must be horrific.”

He shrugged, then cupped his hand under my elbow and directed me across the road toward a double-story Victorian building that was little more than two windows wide and squashed between a blacksmith's workshop and an electrical store. “I can write it off, and having the residence above it actually saves me money.”

He dug his keys out of his pocket and stopped at the pretty, blue-painted building, opening the wrought-iron gate before ushering me through. I walked up the two steps and leaned against the adjoining wall.

“Hellfire Investigations?” I said dryly. “Really?”

He gave me a weary grin as he brushed past to open the door. “I'm a fire Fae—any business I'm involved in is always going to have a name relating to fire.”

“But surely even a Fae could think of something more imaginative.”

“Oh, we can and often do.” He ushered me inside. “But it usually involves sex. Or sexual positions.”

I smiled and studied the long, thin room. It wasn't your traditional office—there was no reception area, just a couple of desks, a half-dozen comfortable chairs, and a line of filing cabinets
along the left wall. At the far end of the room, there was a lounge area with several couches and one of the biggest espresso machines I'd ever seen outside a café. Jackson obviously had a serious love for coffee. A spiral staircase sat to one side of this area.

“How many people do you have working for you?”

“No one,” he said, relocking the door. “Hellfire's a one-man operation.”

“Why? Is it because you're a Fae, and Fae tend to be solitary creatures?”

He hesitated. “If I'm being honest, that
does
play into it. I've certainly been thinking about bringing someone in for a while, but I haven't found anyone I could stand to be with eight hours—or more—a day.”

I raised my eyebrows, amusement teasing my lips. “What? Not even a female?”

“Oh, there are plenty of females I could stand being with. I just wouldn't want to work with them.” He shrugged. I had a feeling he didn't really care one way or another. He added, “Would you like a cup of tea?”

“Please.” I trailed after him as he walked across the room. “So what do we do now?”

“Given the restrictions they've placed on us, we've got no choice but to concentrate on Wilson's murder and somehow find the link to Baltimore.”

“But if we
do
find a link, you won't be able to act on it.” I sat on the thickly padded arm of one of
the couches and crossed my arms. There was a weird mix of fire and ice in my veins, a result of both Sam's kiss and the drug.

Damn it. I could have resisted. I
should
have resisted. But I'd wanted that kiss too much.

And the result?

Confusion. Complete and utter confusion.

While there was no denying the desire that still burned within me, I had to wonder how much of it was fueled by memories of what we'd once had. Because the man I'd tasted in that kiss was very different from the man I'd fallen in love with.
My
Sam was undoubtedly still there, if buried deep. The problem was, I wasn't sure I even
liked
the man he was most of the time, so how the hell could I love him?

I scrubbed a hand through my hair and wished like hell I could travel back in time and erase the events of the last few days. My life had been a whole lot easier, and I hadn't appreciated it enough.

“No, but we can at least pass it on to your cop friend.” Water spluttered as Jackson filled a teapot. He glanced over his shoulder. “I take it you're still intending to pursue this?”

“Hell yeah. The bastard's not going to get the better of me.”

“Attagirl.” He brought the teapot and a cup over to me and placed it on the nearby side table. “You want something to eat?”

“If you've got something sugary, that would be good.”

“Iced doughnuts coming up.” He returned with a large box of doughnuts, then made his coffee and plonked down on the seat beside me. “Tomorrow we'll start talking to some of Wilson's friends.”

I nodded, too busy munching on doughnuts to speak. Between us both, we demolished the entire box of twelve as well as several hot drinks in very quick time.

“And now,” he said, collecting both the cups and dumping them in the sink. “It's time for bed.”

A smile teased my lips. “Oh, really?”

“Yes, really.” He offered me a hand. “To sleep. Nothing more. I promise.”

“A Fae going to bed with a woman and actually intending to sleep? Damn, that has to be one for the record books.”

He laughed softly, tugged me up into his arms, and dropped a sweet kiss on my lips. It went some way to removing the taste of ashes and darkness.

“Trust me,” he said softly, his forehead resting lightly against mine. “It saddens me greatly that I cannot raise anything more than the desire to hold you in my arms. I wish it were otherwise.”

“Sleep,” I said softly, “is all I really want.”

“Good,” he said, and tugged me up the stairs.

•   •   •

By the time I woke up, the sunshine flooding the far end of the room was bright and warm, suggesting it was closer to lunchtime than to breakfast. I rolled onto my back and realized I was alone in the bed. A quick look around provided
no clue as to where Jackson was, which meant he was probably downstairs.

I stretched the kinks from my body, then scooted upright, hugging my knees as I looked around. Like the floor below, the upper living area was really nothing more than one big, open space. The kitchen was centrally located, and had all the latest mod cons as well as a sink filled with dishes. The living area was on the left side of the room and contained a TV that dominated an entire section of wall, while the bathroom—or at least, the shower and the bath—were in the opposite corner to the right of the bed. An open closet was situated nearby, filled with an untidy mess of clothes. Beyond that was a door, which led into the only separate room on this entire floor—the toilet.

My stomach rumbled a fierce reminder that I really had to feed myself if I wanted to regain the strength I needed to burn the drug out of my body, so I bounced out of bed and padded across to the kitchen. A quick investigation of the fridge provided a can of Coke and half a dozen cold cuts of chicken. I consumed several of those, then grabbed the Coke and went in search of my clothes. After retrieving my phone from my purse, I walked across to the windows. Sunshine caressed my skin, warm and intoxicating. I closed my eyes and let the heat infuse me for several minutes before I dialed Rory.

He answered on the second ring. “How did things go last night?”

“Good and bad.” I updated him on all that had
happened, then added, “The drug he gave us was N41A. It not only restricts psychic abilities, but acts as some sort of enforcer. Until it's out of our system, we can't pursue Mark's murder.”

“But the minute you burn into spirit form, it'll lose effect.”

“Yes, except right now that's not really an option. I'm running rather low on reserves.”

“Em, that's a dangerous state to be in with all this shit going down. I can get time off work if you want—”

“No,” I cut in. “I mean, yes, we will have to meet later today, but don't take time off. You can't afford it.”

“You're far more important to me than any damn job.”

I smiled, warmed as much by the caring so evident behind the words as the words themselves. “I know, but given the drug's restrictions against following our one good lead, it's not like we can get ourselves into too much trouble before tonight. I'd like to get ahold of an antidote if there is one, though. I have a feeling the drug will leave Jackson incapacitated longer than either of us might desire. He may be a fire Fae, but it's not like he can become flame and burn it out of his system.”

“That may not be a bad thing. I mean, it's Sam's job to catch the bastards behind Mark's murder, not yours or Jackson's.”

“I know that. Jackson knows that.”

“And neither of you care.” He sighed softly. “If
a government department is using that drug, then there's got to be an antidote for it somewhere.”

“Which is exactly why I called. Do you think Mike might be able to get his hands on it?”

Mike was one of the teenagers who attended Rory's kung fu classes at a run-down community center in Newport on the weekends. He'd been on the streets since he was eight and had survived by selling his body, stolen goods, and, these days, information and drugs. Not just any drugs, but the hard-to-come-by, black-market kind. The kind a kid his age should never be able to get ahold of.

He and Rory had formed an odd sort of friendship—probably, I think, because Rory accepted rather than judged. He could hardly do anything else when we'd both traveled Mike's path more than once in our lifetimes. You do whatever it takes to survive, and sometimes that “whatever” is neither pleasant nor on the straight and narrow.

“I'll ask. If he doesn't know about it, he might be able to point me in the direction of someone who does.”

“Just tell him to be careful. Sam's people tend to play rough. Oh, and don't go back to the apartment yet. Not until we're sure it's safe.”

“We'll have to go back there if you want to renew.”

“I know. I just don't want to risk either one of us being caught alone at the moment.” I paused. “Although to be honest, I wouldn't mind going for a drive to find somewhere remote.”

After all, before flameproof rooms had come along, that was exactly what we'd had to do.

“It would be a nice change.” I could hear the smile in his voice. “You'll ring?”

“I will. Just don't go home in the meantime.”