Playing With Fire (9 page)

When the helicopter had touched down, Jon had met up with more of his men and, of course, they'd immediately drugged her. The better for her not to see where the hell they were taking her.

She'd woken in her cell. And it was most definitely a cell for prisoners, not some nice room for guests, no matter how Jon wanted to spin the place. All of eight feet wide and seven feet long, Cassie had been pacing that cell for hours. No windows. One door.

And lights that were too damn bright.

She heard the click of a lock and spun toward her door just as it swung open.

Jon stood there. He arched a brow as his blue gaze swept over her. His lips quirked in that mildly amused smile she detested. “Cassie, who would have thought we'd end up like this?”

She wanted to rip him apart. But she had to play it smart, so she didn't move at all. “Like this?” she repeated carefully as she raised a brow. “You mean with you being a kidnapper and a killer and me being your prisoner?” She shook her head. “Um, no, I didn't ever think we'd end up quite like this.”

The first time she'd seen Jon, he'd been one of the new recruits brought in to Genesis. One of the actual volunteers—because he'd been human. A soldier who'd agreed to become part of an experimental unit for Uncle Sam.

Humans who had their bodies enhanced by science. He'd wanted to be a true super soldier.

She'd tried to warn him to leave then.

He hadn't.

Of course, back then, she'd just thought he was being misled. That he was clueless about what the government was doing to the paranormals.

Her gaze cut to her cell.
Not so clueless anymore.

“Cassie . . .” He sighed out her name as he came closer to her. “You know it doesn't have to be like this. We need you—”

“We?” She shook her head. “In case you missed the dozens of news stories that have been running lately, Genesis is dead. My father? Gone. Public opinion is against you. No one wants the paranormals tortured—”

“I'm not torturing anyone.”

Bull.
“I'm about to collapse from hunger. You've held me here without—”

His fingers skimmed down her cheek. Goosebumps immediately rose on her flesh, and
not
the good kind of goose bumps.

“Baby, do you really think a little hunger equals torture?” His eyes hardened. “I could show you real torture. The kind that makes a man scream for hours.”

Her throat went dry. “When did you become like this?” she whispered.

He smiled. “You were always so blind. But . . . hey, my timing was good, right? If your phoenix hadn't just broken out of the facility when I arrived for my therapy—”

Therapy? Was that what he was seriously calling it?

“Then we never would have gotten as . . . close . . . as we did.”

She knew her cheeks had flushed. She'd been twenty-two when Dante escaped—the first time, anyway.

She'd been sure that he'd never come back. Jon had pursued her for months, and she'd been hesitant to trust him.

Should have stuck with my instincts.

But she'd been so lonely and she'd missed Dante so much. When the months had slipped into a year, she'd finally agreed to date Jon.

He'd wanted more from her and had made it clear. She just hadn't realized quite how much more he wanted, not until he started talking marriage.

I couldn't marry him. How could I marry one man when I wanted another?
Even when that “other” had forgotten her.

“We have a chance to do something very special together, Cassie,” Jon said as his gaze held hers. “With your brains and my resources, the world could be ours.”

No.
“I don't want the world. I just want away from you.” Because she'd seen, after she'd turned down his proposal, the real Jon. The Jon that was cold and diabolical—and willing to do anything to get what he wanted.

His eyes narrowed. “Getting away isn't an option.” His nostrils flared. “You know . . . you smell even better now than you did when I first met you. But that's part of what
he
did to you, isn't it?”

He
. . . Jon wasn't talking about Dante. He was talking about her father.

“No one knows the full extent of my father's experiments,” she said. “His files were destroyed when the two Genesis labs were—”

“Obliterated?”

They had been.

“I know what your blood can do.” Jon was staring at her neck.

She could feel her heartbeat drumming madly and wondered if he saw the frantic movement of her pulse just beneath the skin.

With his enhancements, she bet he could.

“You're a weapon, Cassie, one that I intend to use.”

He surprised her. “You—you brought me here for my blood?”

“Um, that's part of the reason. I'll take that blood, study it. Replicate the poison.”

The poison that could take down a vampire in seconds. The poison that lived in her.

“But I want more, Cassie. I want you to work with me. You're the best researcher in paranormal genetics. You could create soldiers, design a fighting force that the world has never seen.”

A force that the world wouldn't be able to handle. No, thank-you.

“I'm not making any more monsters.” She shook her head. “You can keep me locked up for as long as you want, but I'm not doing—”

He was laughing at her. “Cassie, Cassie . . . so brave,
now.
But as we discussed, you really don't know much about torture.” He backed away from her. Looked mildly regretful. “That's about to change.”

She knew more about torture than he realized.

The door opened behind him once more.

“This time, you get to see what it's like to be the test subject,” Jon said as he tilted his head to study her. “And I'm afraid that this part will
hurt.
”

Guards came in then. They grabbed her. One lifted her upper body, one caught her thrashing legs. In less than a minute's time, they had her strapped down on a gurney. The wheels were squeaking as they rolled her down the hallway.

She screamed for help, but her screams were met with silence.

Jon brushed the hair off her forehead. “You should probably save your strength.”

“And you're a sadistic bastard who
should
let me go!”

He just smiled. The smile that flashed his dimples. The smile that chilled her.

She was pushed into another room. A room with even brighter lighting. And men and women in lab coats came toward her. A hysterical bubble of laughter broke from her.

Jon thought he was so smart, trying to frighten her by making her the test subject.
I've been the test subject my whole life. Try again, jackass.

“Remember times like this?” His hand was still on her forehead. “I was strapped down once.”

He'd volunteered for it. Been eager to jump on that gurney. No one had taken him, kicking and screaming.

“But you still came in that day, and you tried to get me out of there. Tried to get me to leave.” His brows lowered. “What the hell were you thinking?”

That she could save him.

But he hadn't left. He had turned her in. If it hadn't been for her family connections, she would have been killed for her actions that day.

“We need to find out what dear old daddy did to you. That way, we can do the same thing to others.”

And what? Eradicate the vampires with her poison blood?

“Should we sedate the patient?” one of the doctors asked.

“I'm not a patient!” Cassie screamed. Seriously, they saw that she was fighting.

“No sedation, but we should probably gag her.” Jon did. The bastard actually tied a gag around her mouth.

The doctors just watched.

“Dr. Shaw, we're going to need extensive blood work, skin grafting, a spinal tap, a bone marrow sample . . .” Jon began to rattle off all the procedures. The doctor nodded quickly and pushed instrument trays closer to her.

Cassie shook her head.

“We'll keep her stationary for some of the procedures—temporary paralysis may be needed—but we want to make certain that Cassie is fully aware of everything that happens to her.” He bent toward her face. Smiled again. “That way, the lesson will stay with her much, much longer.” He put his mouth near her ear. “After this, you'll do anything to make sure you're not the one who winds up on the table.”

Her gaze flew toward the men and women in lab coats Tears were leaking down her cheeks.
Please . . .
She knew her eyes said what she couldn't.
Help me. Don't let him do this. Don't you do this to me.

But they wouldn't meet her gaze.

The first needle was driven into her vein, and at almost the exact same time, a scalpel sliced across her arm.

Jon eased away from her, but he didn't leave the room.

He just stood back there and watched.

She didn't cry out. Like she could with the gag. But she wasn't going to give him the pleasure of watching her pain. Her gaze turned up to the light.

It isn't me. It isn't me.
She just had to pretend that the pain was happening to someone else.

He thought it was her first time to be under the knife? How did he think her blood had come to be poison?

She stared up at that light. Focused only on it.

It isn't me.

The harder that she looked at the light, the more it looked like fire.

Dante.

She could almost see him there.

 

Dante stared at the low buildings sprawled across the land. From the outside, they looked like he was staring at an old ranch, one that had fallen into disrepair.

But the reinforced fencing around the ranch—that heavy barbed wire—and the dozens of vehicles that had gone toward the place told him the ranch was far from abandoned.

And the fact that there seemed to be no animals there?

Well, the barbed wire had to be an effort to keep someone in.

His gaze went to the left, to the right. Guards were out there, patrolling. He'd caught sight of them a few times.

They hadn't seen him yet. That was why they were still living.

His stare returned to the row of buildings.

Cassie was in one of those buildings. He knew she was. He'd followed the bastards who'd left him in that field. They'd been so busy running away that they hadn't bothered to look behind them as they sped off in the SUVs.

He'd been right there.

Another motorcycle had been hidden in that shed. Dante had jumped on it, and hauled ass after them as quickly as he could. The night had helped to cover his tracks. He hadn't bothered with headlights.

He'd kept the SUVs within sight. Followed them all the way.

The helicopter was behind the ranch. He'd spotted it earlier.

The trick was to get it. To get her.

He didn't plan to leave without Cassie.

 

“I didn't realize that the subject was incapable of feeling pain.”

Jon glanced up at Dr. Shaw as she approached him. A faint frown was on her face. A pretty face—pretty but cold.

“You should have told us sooner,” she said, her pale blue eyes showing her censure. “It would have made the others feel much less nervous about the procedures.”

Cassie hadn't made a single sound—not a moan, not a whimper—while the doctors had been working on her.

“She feels pain.” He knew she did. He'd seen her react to pain before.

He pushed away from the wall. Headed toward her. “Get back,” he ordered the doctor with the graying hair.

The man immediately stumbled back. He didn't move fast or far enough, so Jon shoved him out of the way.

“Cassie.”

She didn't respond. Didn't even blink. She was staring straight up at the light.

“Cassie!”

Still nothing.

Jon bent his head over hers, forcing her to see him. But she didn't. Her pupils were fixed. She was still staring straight ahead, and not appearing to see a damn thing.

He cut away the gag. They didn't need that. The woman's body was there, but her mind was somewhere far away.

Interesting trick. He hadn't realized that Cassie would be able to pull off something like that.

He'd underestimated her.

Again.

“I won't make that mistake again.” He motioned toward Dr. Shaw. “Keep going.”

“H-her heart rate seems to be dropping.” This was from the guy he'd shoved back.

Jon glanced at the heart monitor. Yes, it was dropping. “We're not in the danger zone yet.” He stepped away from Cassie. “Finish.”

Dr. Shaw nodded quickly as she stepped forward.

“I . . . see . . .” That weak whisper was Cassie's voice.

Jon stiffened. “What do you see, Cassie?”

“Dante . . .” Her lips actually curled. “I see his fire.”

An alarm began to sound, echoing through the facility.

“I see . . . his fire . . .”

Impossible.

But . . . Jon felt a surge of fear inside him as he whirled to race from the room.

W
hen a guard saw him and shouted out a warning,

Dante decided—

Screw the subtle approach.

—even as the shriek of an alarm blasted through the night.

He rose from the shadows. Lifted his hands—and sent fire flying toward the thick fence and its barbed wire. The flames blasted right through that flimsy protection, and he walked straight ahead, clearing a path with his flames as he went.

He kept the fire burning. When a guard tried to shoot him, Dante sent flames his way. The guard yelled and ducked for cover.

Humans. So predictable. Give them something to fear, and they always broke.

It had been that same way for centuries.

More guards came at him. What did they hope to accomplish? Did they think they'd take him down with the bullets long enough to subdue him? Not happening. It wasn't a weak, confused moment after a rising. He wasn't going to let those bullets hit him.

His flames were burning bright and hot, and he melted the guns in their hands.

More screams from the humans. They always screamed.

He looked up and saw the lens of a security camera focusing on him. Dante stared into that lens. He knew the fire lit his face, probably made him look like the devil.

Like he hadn't been called the devil a time or twenty in his lifespan. “You have something I want!” he yelled. “Give her to me or”—he lifted his hands, let the flames dance—“I will burn this place down around you all.”

 

“He's bluffing.” Dr. Shaw peered over Jon's shoulder at the computer screen. “Isn't he?”

“No, he isn't.”
The fire-throwing bastard.

Dante had risen with his memories intact. And he'd also risen very, very pissed.

“I-I thought you left him—”

“I guess the phoenix didn't like to be left behind.”

“But we just started the experiments on Cassandra. We need more time!”

More time.
Jon leaned forward and pressed the intercom button. “If you burn us, you kill her, too.” Had the phoenix's fury blinded him to that fact? “Do you really want her to die?”

Dante's face was a stark, intimidating mask of fury as the flames surrounded him. “I want Cassandra.”

“Why is he fixated on her?” Dr. Shaw asked. “Are they lovers? Are they—”

“The phoenix would destroy any lover he took to his bed.” Jon had read that tidbit in the research notes he'd acquired. “His fire is too dangerous.”

“Five seconds, and I start burning down buildings!” Dante roared.

Jon flipped the switch that connected him to all the guards on a secure frequency. He knew his message would be sent to their transmitters. “Shoot him. Full force. Do
not
let that bastard—”

Before any bullets could fire, Dante swept out with his fire. It rose—and the security screen went blank.

Jon's gaze flew around the monitor bank. Every security screen had gone blank, and there were over fifteen cameras installed out there.

The facility was for research, not long-term containment. It sure couldn't hold off someone of the phoenix's strength.

“I don't think he's going to wait for her to come out.” Dr. Shaw edged toward the door.

No, he wasn't. The phoenix was coming in, and Jon knew he'd burn anyone who got between him and Cassie.

Jon also knew he couldn't lose Cassie. She was vital to his mission goals. “Take him down!” he ordered once more then rushed from the room and ran back toward the lab. Toward Cassie.

He shoved open the door. She was still strapped on the table, and her gaze was still fixed on the light.

He grabbed the scalpel and sliced away the straps that held her down. He pulled her up, but her head sagged back weakly. “Cassie!”

She didn't respond.

“I'm going to destroy your phoenix, you know that, right?”

Still nothing.

“Lieutenant Colonel?” Dr. Shaw's voice shook. She'd been racing behind him in the hallway. “He won't get in . . . will he?”

Yes, he would.
“He's going to smell her blood on your hands.”

The other doctors were there, too. They'd backed away the instant Jon had grabbed the scalpel.

“He'll probably try to kill you all first.”

There was a sharp gasp and two of the doctors immediately ran for the doors.

Fools. What had they thought would happen? That paranormal research would be a safe occupation?

“B-but we didn't—” Dr. Shaw began, sputtering as the faint color leeched from her cheeks.

Jon pulled Cassie into his arms. Wherever she'd gone in her mind, the lady wasn't even close to coming back yet. “You cut her open.”

“You told us—”

“Get her blood off your hands, Shaw! Get the smell off you, or you'll be dead once he breeches the perimeter.”

But the increasing shrieks of the alarm told him that the perimeter had already been breached.

Water immediately began to pour from the sprinklers positioned along the ceiling. Ah, right . . . the phoenix's flames had been detected. The spray of water wasn't going to do much to stop him, though.

Jon knew that he had to get Cassie out of there. They'd escaped on the helicopter before. They could do it again.

He just had to run fast enough. But he could do it. No problem. The others who smelled of Cassie's blood ... the others who were running into the path of the phoenix would be his perfect distraction.

Sometimes, a leader had to lose a few soldiers in order to win a war.

Or, in this case . . . the doctors had to die so he could survive.

He lifted Cassie higher into his arms and ran from the room.

 

“My Cassandra . . .” Dante inhaled then stilled as he caught her very distinct scent. It had often drifted to him when he'd been held in that pit at Genesis.

She smelled of sunlight and flowers. Life. Hope.

Except . . . her scent was deeper and tinted with the faintest trace of copper.

Blood.

“Stop!” The barked order came from behind him. “We'll shoot—”

A bullet slammed into Dante's shoulder. They weren't
going to shoot
. The asshole was
already
shooting at him.

Too bad the guy had horrible aim.

Dante twisted and sent his flames racing toward the trigger happy fool. The man dropped his weapon. Ran away as fast as he could.

Dante turned to the right, following Cassie's scent. Someone had hurt her. Someone would
pay.

Two men in white lab coats were running down the hallway. They stopped as soon as they saw him.

His eyes narrowed. They had Cassie's blood on their gloved hands.

“Please!” the man in front shouted. He was in his early fifties, with graying hair and a paunch. “She's alive! I swear, she's alive.”

Dante grabbed him. Slammed the bastard against the wall and kept him there with one hand shoved against the guy's chest. Dante knew that hand would burn him—it
was
burning as smoke rose from the fellow's shirt. “What did you do?”

“Sh-she was just here for some research. We didn't know, we didn't—”

“We knew!” The shout came from the second man. He was tall, thin, balding. “But what choice did we have? The lieutenant colonel calls the shots. He made us—”

The rage in Dante was swelling ever higher. “You both hurt her.”

The second man screamed then, a high, terrified cry. He yanked something out of his lab coat pocket and lunged for Dante. The man drove a needle toward Dante's arm. “This'll stop you!”

Dante caught the syringe. Snapped it in half. “No,” he said, slowly, definitely, “but I will stop you.”

The man's jaw dropped. He spun around to flee.

Guards came around the corner then. Half a dozen of them. They took one look at Dante and opened fire.

He used the two men in lab coats as his shields. They fell, bodies riddled with bullets, even as he sent his flames out toward his attackers.

Her blood . . .

He kicked in the door nearest him. Found another hallway waiting.

Water poured from the ceiling, but it didn't stop his flames. Nothing was going to stop him.

 

Jon dropped Cassie into the chair in the back lab. She barely seemed to breathe, and that scared him.

He hurried toward the small cabinet on the right wall and used his private code to bypass the security system in place for the particular resource he wanted. A hum, then a beep, and the metal doors swung open. The dosages were there, just waiting for him.

He grabbed a syringe and drove the white-hot liquid right into his vein.

“What are you doing?”

He spun around to see Dr. Shaw standing in the doorway. She had never realized that he'd been one of the test subjects at Genesis for years. Her surprised gaze was on the needle he'd just shoved into his arm.

“I'm taking precautions.” He hadn't been one of the dumb bastards who'd signed up to receive the modified vampire transformation. He hadn't wanted to spend his days and nights drinking blood.

He'd wanted power. Strength.

He'd gone into the Lycan program.

Until something better had come along.

His back teeth clenched as the dose burned through him. It was always a burn, one that seemed to be destroying him from the inside out.

But it didn't destroy him. It made him stronger.

“What was in that syringe?”

Ah . . . Dr. Shaw. She was one of the newer recruits. Someone that Uncle Sam had hoped would be able to match Cassie's wonderful brain.

There was no match.

The alarms kept shrieking.

“A brew that one of your predecessors created,” Jon told her. Unfortunately, that predecessor was dead. Killed when the last main Genesis lab was torn to the ground.

Jon headed back toward Cassie.

Dr. Shaw blocked his path. The woman had been running and some of her blond hair fell from the sleek twist she usually kept at her nape. “I don't want to die.”

“Then you need to get the hell out of here.”

She sucked in a sharp breath. “You're going for the helicopter, aren't you?”

Yes, he was.

“Take me with you. You know I can help you—I understand the genetics of the werewolves and their mating characteristics so I can—”

He wasn't interested in the werewolves any longer, but the woman still might be helpful. He nodded. “But run fast, doctor. Run very damn fast.”

She nodded, eyes wide. A woman with a strong instinct for self-preservation. He liked that.

He grabbed Cassie and lifted her over his shoulder. He—

Cassie drove a scalpel into his shoulder.

He yelled at the unexpected pain and his hold slipped on her. She fell, slamming into the floor.

Cassie shoved back her hair, and he saw that she was very much awake and aware and far, far from dying.

“Dante's here, isn't he?” She smiled up at him. “And you're terrified.”

Jon would have been terrified if he hadn't been staring at his perfect weapon. He pulled that scalpel out of his shoulder and gripped it in his hand. “He's never tried to kill you, not in all those long years when you were with him at Genesis . . . so I'm betting he won't kill you now.”

Actually, he didn't think the bastard
could
kill her.

“But I will,” Jon told her quietly. “I will slice your throat open right here, right now, and I'll let you bleed out before your phoenix can get here.”

Cassie stared up at him, and Jon knew she saw the truth in his eyes.

“Shaw already has your samples. I don't need you alive.”

Cassie swallowed. Her gaze cut toward the blond doctor.

There was a soft click of sound. Jon looked over and saw that Dr. Shaw had a gun pointed at Cassie's head. Well, well, the doctor kept surprising him.

“I'm not dying for someone I don't even know,” Dr. Shaw said, but the gun trembled in her hand. “So let's all just get out of here and get on that helicopter.”

Cassie rose, but her knees buckled, and she hit the floor once more.

Ah, so she wasn't as strong as she wanted him to think. Jon caught her arms and lifted her toward him.

Her scent rose, filling his nose, and for an instant, he stilled. That scent . . . he'd always enjoyed her scent.

His eyes narrowed on her. “Do you want me to kill you right now?”

Cassie shook her head.

“Then do the fuck what you're told. Don't fight me, don't cry out, and I'll let you live.” He scooped her into his arms because he didn't want her slowing him down. “Come on, Shaw,” he barked to the other woman. Power and strength had flooded through him with that injection. He barely felt Cassie's weight. His steps were surer, faster, and he lifted his foot and kicked open the door that blocked him from the helipad.

The blackness of the night waited for him. The chopper . . . was less than fifty yards away.

 

Dante heard the helicopter's blades spinning. His head snapped up as that steady beat slipped past the blare of the alarm.

Cassie had been taken from him on that helicopter before.

He wouldn't let her go again.

He ran through the hallways, following the sound. No one tried to stop him. They turned and cowered when they saw him.

He didn't care about them.

Only her.

Outside once more, he raced toward the helicopter. Its lights cut across the clearing, flashing on him, then sweeping away.

The helicopter began to rise.

No. No, it can't leave.

He'd have to track her again, and Cassie was already hurt. The scent of her blood . . .

“No!”
Dante yelled, and his flames flew out, hitting the whirling blades of the helicopter. Burning, the blades were spinning slower and slower. The chopper slammed back down to earth with a jarring crash.