Fireborn (8 page)

“A Fae with morals? I'm shocked!”

He laughed. “Some of us
do
have them. Not many, granted, but some.”

The conversation flowed easily from one topic to another, until it felt as if I were talking to a longtime friend rather than a stranger. Hours came and went unnoticed, although the wine was eventually replaced by coffee.

By three, the bar had lost a good half of its patrons, and the raucous, bass-heavy beat had been replaced by more intimate music.

“I guess I'd better go,” I said, more than a little regretfully. As much as I enjoyed his company, I was dead on my feet. And if I lingered, we
would
end up in bed together, but I was just as likely to fall asleep as enjoy myself. “Otherwise, this will roll into breakfast and if it does, then breakfast cannot possibly be classified as a second date.”

He reached across the table and took my hand in his. He turned it around and, with one finger, lightly traced the outline of my palm and wrist. Desire slammed into me, and breathing with any sort of normality suddenly became impossible.

“I do hope you realize,” he said, voice husky and passion burning bright in his eyes, “that I intend to seduce you senseless the next time we meet.”

My heart was hammering so hard I swear it was trying to tear out of my chest and leap into his lap. What Rory and I had might be brilliant, but it was also a necessity. While we both enjoyed flesh-on-flesh contact, it was something we indulged in with each other only occasionally. Sam might have accused me of cheating, but I'd been as faithful as I ever could be given the restrictions of my nature, and Rory and I had been strictly flame only.

“If you don't,” I replied, keeping my voice low and sexy, “I'll be very disappointed.”

His bright smile was filled with promise. “And we wouldn't want you disappointed, would we?”

God, no. “When and where?”

“What about a late brunch? I can pick you up around eleven, if you'd like.”

Sam's warning edged its way into my thoughts and I hesitated.
Damn you,
I thought.
You're not going to spoil this.
I wouldn't let him. “That would be lovely.”

I gave him my address. He rose, took my hand, and pulled me to my feet. “And now? Can I drive you home?”

I shook my head. “I always prefer to catch a cab home on a first date.”

“Then let me walk you down to the cabstand.” He picked up my coat and held it out so that I could slip my arms into it. His fingers brushed
my breasts as his hands fell away, and delight skittered through me.

“I can smell you,” he whispered, as his lips brushed the base of my neck. I closed my eyes, enjoying the sensation. “I can smell your heat and your desire. It intoxicates me, sweet Emberly.”

I shivered, torn between the need to be safe and the growing hunger to take what this man offered. His kisses traveled up the side of my neck; then he gently nipped my lobe. A groan escaped. Mine, not his.

“Please,” I said, and wasn't entirely sure just what it was I was asking.

He chuckled softly; then he stepped out from behind me, his hand sliding sensually down my back and coming to rest on my backside. His touch was almost hot enough to brand, and the flames inside me shivered and danced in response. “Shall we walk down to the cabstand?”

I wasn't entirely sure I was capable of walking
anywhere
, but I nodded anyway. And the only thing I was capable of thinking was that if he could do
this
to me with a few softly spoken words and some well-placed kisses, then what the hell could he do when he actually set his mind to full seduction?

One thing was sure—I'd find out later today. And I couldn't wait.

The rain had eased outside, but the night was still very cold. Not that I really felt it, protected as I was by the intense, animal-like hunger rolling off the man beside me.

At the stand, he didn't kiss me, as I'd expected, but rather stepped away. He must have caught my surprise, because he gave me a lopsided, totally endearing grin. “Things, I'm afraid to say, are a little knife-edged at the moment.”

“A Fae in danger of losing his legendary control?” I said, in mock horror. “Unbelievable!”

He laughed. The sound rolled across my skin as sweetly as his kisses had only moments before. “I am so glad we ran into each other, Emberly. I'll see you in”—he paused and looked at his watch—“just over seven hours.”

“I'll be waiting.” I got into the cab, gave the driver my address, then twisted around to watch Jackson walking away, until we turned the corner and I could no longer see him.

•   •   •

The minute I stepped out of the elevator I saw the small red light situated discreetly above our doorway flashing. I stopped cold. That light said our security system had been breached.

Sam's warnings came back in a rush, and I stared down the bright but silent hallway to our door with some trepidation. I might be able to protect myself both physically and with flame, but neither was entirely foolproof. And the memory of what had been done to the professor loomed large, a warning of what might happen if I acted stupidly.

I spun around and stepped back into the elevator. Once in the foyer, I called the cops, then sat back in the shadows and waited for them to arrive.

Only the cops didn't. Sam did.

I wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. After five years of living in the same city but never meeting, we suddenly seemed unable to get away from each other.

I pushed upright wearily. “I thought you were intending to let someone else deal with me?”

His expression was as remote as I'd ever seen it. “We have your phone tapped, and I just happened to be close when you reported the break-in.”

Annoyance surged. I understood the reasoning behind tapping my phone well enough—as he'd said, I was the only connection now between the professor and whatever else his murderers might have been searching for—but that didn't mean I had to be happy about it. But all I said was, “I'm already being shadowed by one of yours—why couldn't he have handled it?”

“He's a vampire. He can't cross thresholds unless invited.” His gaze raked me. “I seem to remember you once saying that you made a policy of never doing that.”

I didn't particularly want
him
crossing my threshold, either, but it wasn't like I had a whole lot of choice right now. So I simply shrugged and followed him into the elevator. Which suddenly seemed entirely too small with his dark and brooding presence in it.

“Where's your key?” he said as we neared the floor.

I gave it to him, being overly careful not to touch him. If he noticed, he didn't say anything.
When the elevator door opened, I followed him out, but was promptly stopped by an abrupt, “Stay here.”

I obeyed. He was the cop, not me. Not in this lifetime, anyway. I crossed my arms and noted almost absently that as lean as he was, he still filled out the rear end of his jeans rather nicely.

He carefully unlocked the door, then drew a gun from inside his coat and, with a speed that seemed almost unnatural, had the door open and was inside.

I waited tensely, shifting my weight from one foot to another, aching to know what was going on. There was no sound, no movement, nothing to indicate there was any sort of scuffle going on in there.

After about five minutes, he reappeared. “If there was someone in there, they're well gone. But you'd better check to see if anything is missing.” He hesitated. “In particular, you'd better check those notebooks you mentioned.”

I swore internally. They'd be gone; of that I had no doubt. “As long as you stay outside.”

He frowned. “Red, don't be ridiculous—”

I crossed my arms, and no doubt my expression was as stubborn as his was frustrated. “I can be as ridiculous as I want, because it's my damn apartment.”

“Fine,” he growled. “I'll wait here.”

I brushed past him and went in. At first glance, everything seemed perfectly normal. Nothing appeared to have been moved or touched.

Then my gaze fell on the coffee table. My laptop was gone. As were Mark's notebooks.

I closed my eyes.
Fuck!

Almost immediately Sam said, “What?”

I took a deep breath and released it slowly. “My laptop and Mark's notebooks are missing.”

“Damn it!” The darkness within him seemed to explode, and the sheer force of it had me stepping back. “I should have followed instinct and fucking forced you to hand over the papers earlier tonight.”

“There's no saying they would have been here even then,” I snapped, guilt and anger swirling through me. He was right. I knew he was right, but that didn't mean I was about to put up with him ripping me to shreds. Not again. “I've been gone for nearly twenty hours. That's plenty of time for someone to come in here and retrieve the notes.”

“And what about Rory?”

He practically spat the name, and it made me even angrier. “He's out for the night. And he's probably enjoying himself a whole lot more than I am.”

“Oh, I don't know,” he growled. “You seemed to be enjoying yourself just fine with that Fae.”

My eyes widened. “You were
watching
me?”

“I told you we were.” His expression closed over sharply. The darkness within him didn't retreat, however. It was as deadly and as alluring as ever.

I shivered and walked over to the planter. “No, you told me Adam the vampire was watching me.”

“Adam is my partner.”

I paused and looked over my shoulder. “You? The man who thinks all nonhumans should be dead, with a vampire partner? Yeah, right.”

“I
don't
believe that,” he growled. “I never have.”

“Then why
say
it?”

He snorted, his expression dark, angry. But deep in the unlit recesses of his eyes, there were also the stirring ashes of hurt. “Because when you discover the woman you love is fucking another man, you tend to say things you otherwise wouldn't.” He paused, then made a sharp motion with his hand. “That, however, is the past, and totally irrelevant. Protecting you, and checking everyone you interact with, isn't. And that duty, unfortunately, has been handed down to me.”

I finally found the USB and swung around. “And what did you find out about my Fae?”

“Nothing yet. But if there's anything to find, we'll find it.”

“And if there's not?”

He shrugged. “Then you running into him like that really
was
nothing more than a coincidence.”

I snorted softly and tossed him the USB. He caught it easily, then said, “What's this?”

“Notes from four of the five notebooks I transcribed. Mark's caution rubbed off, and I usually keep a copy aside just in case the files went
missing in the system or something went wrong in the transfer.”

“What about the fifth one?”

I hesitated, then admitted, “I didn't get around to copying that over.”

“Well, at least you've done something that vaguely resembles smart,” he muttered, studying the USB like a scientist might a bug.

I glared at him for a moment, then said, voice flat, “Get out of my doorway.”

He glanced up, surprise flaring in his eyes. “What?”

“I said, get out. Leave this building.
Now
,” I added, when he didn't immediately move.

He raised an almost mocking eyebrow and half turned away, then paused. His shadowed blue gaze met mine a final time.

“One thing you should know,” he said softly. “I don't believe in coincidences. Trust me, Red. The Fae is up to something.”

And with that warning hanging in the air, he left.

T
hankfully, by the time I got to bed, I was too goddamn tired to dream about anything. My sleep was long and blissful, and I woke refreshed and filled with anticipation for the day ahead.

And not even Sam's warning could dampen that.

Even the weather gods seemed to be on my side. After the rain and the cold of the past few days, they'd pulled something magical out of the bag, presenting Melbourne with clear blue skies and an almost springlike ambience.

Given I wasn't exactly sure where Jackson was taking me—and to be honest, didn't really care—I went with a swirly, flowery skirt and tight-fitting shirt and teamed them with gorgeous leather boots with heels just high enough to flatter my calves while still being comfortable enough to walk a fair distance. Rory still wasn't home by the time I was ready to leave, so I left him a note, then happily made my way down to the foyer.

Jackson was waiting for me, looking decidedly sexy in faded jeans that emphasized the muscular length of his legs and a black, short-sleeved shirt that made the most of his shoulders and arms.

His gaze skimmed me as I walked toward him. “You,” he said, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me close, “look fucking amazing.”

And then he kissed me, not sweetly, not gently, but with a fierce hunger, as if he intended to make love to me here in the middle of the foyer.

To say we were both more than a little breathless when we finally parted was an understatement.

“If breakfast is anywhere near as good as that kiss,” I said, my breathing erratic and my voice little more than a husky whisper, “I'm going to be a mighty happy woman.”

He smiled, caught my hand, and led me out of the building. Just for a moment, awareness prickled my skin. It wasn't sexual in any way, but rather the sensation of being watched. I glanced around casually, but couldn't see anyone obvious. But then, I hadn't last night, either.

Jackson's mode of transport wasn't exactly what I'd been expecting, but it did totally suit him. It was a big red pickup truck whose nose and tail had been decorated with flames, and it looked as powerful as its driver. I couldn't help grinning. “And here I was thinking flame decorations were so last century.”

“Only for those not Fae.” He opened the door, ushered me into the passenger seat, then ran around to the driver's side.

The engine came to life, loud and growly. As he reversed out of the parking spot, I said, “Where are we headed?”

“Seeing it's such a lovely day, I thought we might picnic in the hills.”

“But not at a popular tourist spot, I gather.” My hopes of seduction would certainly take a tumble if that were the case. Although with the Fae, you could never be entirely sure. According to Rory, they had a tendency toward exhibitionism.

He grinned. “Oh, trust me, we're headed where few tourists go.”

Again Sam's warning nudged my consciousness, and again I stoutly ignored it. It wasn't like I couldn't protect myself—I just needed to keep aware. To
not
get so carried away by desire that I ignored any warning signs of trouble that might inadvertently be revealed.

“And am I allowed to know the whereabouts of this mysterious, empty spot?”

“I own some land that runs alongside the state forest not far from Woodend.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Why would you own land up there? It's not like you could create any sort of fire up there, especially in summer. The Country Fire Authority would be all over it in a flash, given how dry the state usually is. I would have thought the drier, hotter areas up near Mildura to be more your style.”

“It is, and I do own land up there.” He glanced in the rearview mirror before adding, “But it's also nice to own something within easy driving distance of the city. I might not be able to enjoy the pleasure of fire very often, but I
can
enjoy the wild peace of the place. I'm Fae first and foremost, remember.”

“So you've built a home up there?”

He shook his head. “
That
would defeat the purpose. And before you ask, there's no toilet. But I do have plenty of trees. And loo paper.”

I snorted softly. Talk about roughing it. He was looking in the mirror again, and something in his manner had my skin prickling. “What's wrong?”

“I think we might have someone following us.”

I relaxed. “We do. My boss was murdered last night, and the police are worried that whoever did it might come after me.”

“I noticed we were being followed last night. This isn't him.”

He'd noticed? How? While I might have sensed the vampire named Adam when I'd walked to the bar, I'd certainly had no sense of him when we'd left. But then, the Fae's senses were pretty keen. “Well, no, because it's a different person doing the day shift.”

He gave me a wry smile. “Yeah, I guessed that. But I don't think this is your official tail. He's way too close, and that suggests inexperience.”

I flipped down the visor and looked behind us via the vanity mirror.

And what I saw was a red cloak.

Oh,
fuck.

“Do you know who it is?” His sideways glance suggested he was very aware of the tension running through me.

Sam's warning swirled through my thoughts. How the hell was I going to explain this without giving too much away? “I ran across a couple of
our follower's companions a few nights ago. Let's just say they're nasty pieces of work.”

“I take it from
that
your meeting with said companions went rather badly—for them.”

“Yes. I rather spoiled a party they had planned, and they didn't take it well.” I studied the red cloak in the mirror for a moment. “I'm not sure why they'd be following me now, though.”

Although the fact that they
were
meant that while they might be infected by a vampirelike virus, they didn't suffer the same restrictions when it came to sunlight. So why did UV lights affect them?

“What the hell is he?” Jackson asked. “Even in the rearview mirror he doesn't really look human, and he sure as hell can't be a vampire.”

I hesitated. “I'm not sure what they're officially called, but I tend to call them red cloaks—”

“
That's
a red cloak? He looks nothing like the description I got.”

Something in the pit of my stomach twisted. I closed my eyes for a moment, fighting the twin surges of disappointment and anger. Goddamn it, I didn't
want
Sam to be right. Didn't want to believe meeting Jackson was anything more than a coincidence.

“How do you know about the red cloaks?”

I said it softly, but there was an edge in my voice and he grimaced.

“Look, I haven't exactly been truthful—”

Anger won the battle over disappointment. “No
kidding
—”

“Emberly, just
listen
,” he snapped, then took a deep breath, visibly getting himself under control. “I
am
Jackson Miller, but I'm a private investigator, not an engineer. Baltimore was someone of interest to my client.”

Which was why he'd been so interested in
me
. It was as much the need for information as attraction. Lady luck, it seemed, really
had
decided to abandon me this life span—at least when it came to men.

“After running into you that first time,” he continued, “I did some checking and discovered you worked for Baltimore.”

“And what better way is there to keep an eye on him than to seduce his assistant?” I couldn't help the edge of bitterness in my voice.

“Yes.” He scraped a hand across his chin. It sounded like he was rubbing sandpaper. “And no. That was my initial intention when I arranged our second meeting, but I discovered Baltimore was dead shortly after that. Theoretically, your usefulness as an information source was over at that point.” His gaze briefly met mine. Those emerald depths showed little evidence of lying. “I didn't
have
to meet you at the bar. I wanted to.”

I stared at him for several moments, then pulled my gaze away. I wasn't ready to forgive him just yet, and if I kept staring into his eyes, I would. “Prove that you're an investigator and you're just not spinning another line.”

“My wallet is in my pants pocket.” He glanced at me, eyes suddenly twinkling with mischief. “Of
course, that means you'll have to reach in and get it. I dare not risk taking my hand off the wheel.”

I snorted softly, then reached across the car and dug a hand into his pocket. Felt the heat of his skin through the thin layer of cotton, and again the hunger rose within me.
Later, later,
I whispered internally.
Maybe
. I grabbed the wallet, tugged it free, then opened it up. His driver's license was in a little window on one side and his private investigator's license on the other. He was who he said he was. I closed it and shoved it back into his pocket.

“Happy?” he asked.

“Satisfied that you're not actually lying about who you are anymore, yes. Happy, not so much.” I paused, then asked, “Why is your client interested in my boss? And how do you know about the red cloaks?”

He hesitated. “Client confidentiality—”

“Be damned,” I cut in. “In the last few days, I've been shot at, chased, my boss has been murdered, and, for a climax, I've been picked up by a Fae who's decided seduction is the fastest method to information. If someone doesn't start being honest with me, I'm going to get
violent
.”

He grinned suddenly. “You're a bit of a firecracker, aren't you?”

“You have no idea,” I muttered, and crossed my arms. “And to repeat my question, how much do you know about the red cloaks?”

“Not a lot more than the brief description of
them I got from several people who'd witnessed them murder someone.”

“And who was that someone?”

He glanced in the rearview mirror again, then said, “How about we take out our tail, then have an information exchange?”

“There's one fatal flaw in that suggestion.” Sam might have warned me against talking about these things, but I couldn't
not
talk about them, either. Not when Jackson was planning to attack one of them. “Those things are infected with a deadly virus that may affect nonhumans as much as it does humans. You can't let them scratch or bite you.”

“Oh,” he said. “Lovely.”

He drove on without saying anything for a while, and I realized we were out of the city and on the Tullamarine Freeway, heading toward the Calder.

“Okay,” he said eventually. “We'll let him follow us until we get to the exit. Once we hit the forest, we'll immobilize the bastard, then question him.”

“Um, maybe you didn't hear me, but those things are deadly—”

“I heard.” His gaze, when it met mine, was filled with a very
inhuman
hunger and excitement. Fae might be sensualists, but they obviously
weren't
averse to the excitement that came with danger—and that it could be deadly only made the chase all that much sweeter, it seemed.

I shook my head. “You're
crazy
.” And so was I for even considering going along with his scheme.

“That's been said before,” he agreed. “I am, however, still alive.”

Silence fell. We continued up the Calder Freeway for a while, then swung left onto Lawson Road and up into the forest.

“Can you use a gun?” he asked, as he suddenly turned onto a dirt side road.

“I can, though I prefer not to. Why?”

“It's interesting that you appear neither shocked nor horrified by the thought I might be carrying weapons in the truck.”

“Probably because my capacity to be shocked by anything has been erased by recent events. What are you planning?”

“Are you good enough to take out the tire of a car speeding past?”

“I think so.” I'd certainly done it a few times in my past life as a cop, but that had been a while ago now, and not only were my skills rusty, but the guns were very different.

“God, where have you been all my life, woman?”

“I've been avoiding men like you,” I said dryly. “Where's the gun?”

“Locked box under the backseat. Key code 3754.”

I undid my seat belt and twisted around. Once I found the locked box, I typed in the code. A drawer popped out, revealing several guns cradled in foam. I chose the Glock semiautomatic simply because I'd used earlier versions. After checking that the internal locking system was
engaged, I shoved in a single-stack, ten-round magazine.

“There's a blind corner just up ahead,” he said. “I'll let you out just after it. Hide in the trees and shoot out the rear tires. I'll take care of the rest.”

I nodded, throat suddenly dry and heart going a million miles an hour. Excitement, not fear.

He slid around the corner, raising a thick cloud of dust that hid his sudden stop. I opened the door, scrambled out, then ran for the trees as he took off again.

The red cloak wasn't far behind him. He came around the corner too fast and skidded sideways on the dusty road. I released the internal locking system, sighted on the nearest rear tire, and fired. The first two shots missed. The next two didn't.

The tire exploded, and the car—still going too fast and not under complete control after the semi-slide around the corner—reacted violently. The tire exploded, came off the rim, and fired thick bits of rubber in all directions as the car pulled savagely to the left. The driver's reaction was instant and totally wrong—he slammed on the brakes. This succeeded only in accentuating the car's reaction, and he spun completely around and then slammed into several trees along the side of the road.

Jackson's truck reappeared through the choking cloud of dirt and reversed straight into the undamaged side of the car, buckling both doors inward. For all intents and purposes, the red cloak was trapped.