Circle Of Fire

Chapter Seven

"Absolutely nothing." Maddie sighed and sat down on the top step of the old hut. "We've found ten damn cabins that match my description and haven't found a sign of the kids."

And wasted entirely too much time doing it,Jon thought, sitting down beside her. The sun had disappeared behind the tree line, and the night's shadows were beginning to close in around them. A chill wind had sprung up with the onset of dusk, bringing with it the smell of rain. If they didn't leave soon, they'd get drenched.

Maddie shivered and rubbed her arms. He'd asked her several times during the day if she was warm enough, and her answer had always been yes. He had a feeling she'd freeze to death before she admitted anything else.

"We can't do much more here tonight. We'd best head back to the inn." He took off his jacket and placed it around her shoulders.

He saw the brief flash of indecision in her eyes, and realized she didn't want to be seen as a burden.

Didn't want to get in his way.

Maybe he was taking the bastard act too far if she thought the simple act of borrowing a coat would anger him in some way. "Keep it," he said softly. "I'm not cold."

She nodded her thanks and tore her gaze away from his. "I saw a couple of flashlights in the back of your truck," she said after a moment. "I don't mind going on."

Her stubborn expression made him smile. She was so tired she could barely lift her feet, yet she was willing to continue. "Well, I'm tired and hungry, even if you're not."

A touch of relief winged through her eyes before she pulled her gaze from his again. "I guess it would be stupid to stumble around in the dark. We could so easily miss the kids."

A wildcat snarled in the distance, and magic whispered across his skin. That was no ordinary cat out hunting an evening meal. It was a shapeshifter hunting them.

He rose to his feet and offered Maddie his hand. She hesitated, then accepted his help, her fingers cold and stiff against his.

"What are you going to do about the inn?" she said, studying the dark tree line intently.

"What I do depends on how Hank reacts." And whether Hank believed that his meeting with Maddie was only an accidental meeting of old friends. "Someone at the inn obviously suspects I'm here to find the kids. It might be Hank; it might not. I'm hoping that my sudden reappearance might force them into action and give us a lead."

Her gaze flicked past his and settled on some point past his right shoulder. "What if that reaction is trying to kill you again?"

He frowned. She was looking at anything and everything but him, and it was beginning to annoy the hell out of him. He might have warned her not to get involved, but he'd never said anything about not looking at him. He liked looking into her eyes, damn it. Liked watching the flow of emotions through their amber depths.

"They won't attempt it with an inn full of guests." Or at least, he hoped they wouldn't.

A gold-red curl had broken loose from her ponytail and flipped across her face. He reached out and tucked it behind her ear, allowing his fingers to trail lightly against her cheek. It was like touching satin.

Her gaze jumped to his, and he saw a flash of fear in them. Not fear of him. Fear of herself. He wondered why.

"Don't," she said softly.

He took a deep breath, then stepped away. But distance didn't dampen his sudden desire to touch her.

Hold her.

"We should get going," he said, more abruptly than he'd intended. "I can smell snow in the air."

She nodded and swung his jacket off her shoulders. He half expected her to hand it back, but she slipped it on instead.

"Lead on, then."

When he didn't move straight away, her look asked why he was standing there. He smiled and led the way back to the truck.

The inn felt like a furnace after the chill of the night. Maddie quickly stripped off the two coats and handed Jon his with a smile of thanks.

"Ah, Miss Smith. So good to see you again."

She jerked around at the sound of Hank's voice. He was leaning casually against the banister, his smile warm and lazy. Yet there was nothing casual in the way he watched them.

Maddie swallowed uneasily. "Evening, Mr. Stewart."

"Please, call me Hank." He pushed away from the banister and moved across to the desk. "I'm afraid there's been a terrible mix-up in the room bookings. We presumed Mr. Barnett had left and gave you his room."

"Oh." She couldn't think of anything else to say without giving away the fact that she knew why there was a mix-up.

Jon's shoulder brushed against hers as he stepped slightly in front of her. It was an oddly protective gesture that warmed the pit of her stomach. His fingers touched hers, and she clasped his hand.

"How unfortunate," Jon said. He squeezed her fingers gently, his touch warm and reassuring.

Hank's gaze narrowed slightly. "I'm afraid the inn is fully booked, but we're willing to arrange other accommodations for you, Mr. Barnett. At the inn's cost, of course."

She wondered if the other accommodations would include another nice, damp well.

"Of course," Jon's tone was dry. "But I don't mind bunking down in Maddie's room for the night. We have a lot to catch up on."

His lazy grin left little doubt of what they'd be catching up on. Hank raised his eyebrows, his smile almost a leer.

Maddie tried to ignore the heat creeping into her face. Hank had to believe she and Jon were old lovers catching up, or things could get dangerous. "We certainly do," she agreed softly.

Hank frowned, and a hint of confusion flickered through his eyes. "Well, then. If it's okay with Miss Smith, we certainly have no objections."

She met Hank's dark gaze. There was no way on Earth she'd take a room by herself with him around, anyway. There was something in his eyes that made her feel ill—a hint of depravity and menace and something else she just couldn't name.

"Good," she said levelly. Though she wasn't entirely sure spending several nights alone with Jon was a much better option. In some ways, it certainly wasn't any safer.

Hank gave them a smile she didn't trust. "It's something of a tradition at the inn to invite all our guests for Sunday dinner. Care to join us?"

She opened her mouth to say no, but stopped when Jon squeezed her fingers again. She frowned up at him. How did the man know what she was about to say before she said it?

"I think we can spare an hour or so," he said, then gave her a quick smile that was intimate and intense.

Her heart skipped several beats, even though she knew it was all an act for Hank's sake.

"We've had quite a busy day," he continued, his tone suggesting they'd done more than merely walk around. "I, for one, am famished."

Hank raised an eyebrow. It was hard to see whether he believed their act or not. "Well then, please join us. The rest of our guests will be present, so it'll be a good opportunity for everyone to meet."

She could think of nothing worse than a room full of strangers. Especially if Hank was going to be one of them.

"Thanks." Jon raised her hand to his lips, mischief dancing in his eyes. "Shall we go get ready, my dear?"

he said, and lightly kissed each of her fingers.

Heat shivered through her soul. She glared at him. This wasn't a game she wanted to play. It was far too dangerous to flirt with a man like Jon. Flirting could lead to caring, and that was something he'd already warned her against.

Still, for Hank to believe they'd once been lovers, she had to do more than simply stand there like a fool.

"Been ready for a while, lover," she said softly and arched forward, brushing a kiss across his lips.

Lips that were soft and warm and so inviting that she didn't want to leave.

But it was only a game, and Hank was watching.

She pulled away. Jon touched her cheek, the amusement in his eyes suddenly replaced by a warmth that made her breath catch in her throat. Damn, she thought. I should have learned by now that it's dangerous to play with fire.

She cleared her throat and quickly turned, heading for the stairs.

When they'd reached the safety of their room, she turned around to confront him. And made sure she kept a good deal of distance between them.

"Why on Earth did you accept his dinner invitation?"

Jon threw his jacket over the back of the sofa before sitting down. "We need answers. We're not going to find them hiding in our room."

She leaned back against the table and rubbed her arms. The room was cold, despite the embers still burning in the hearth. "How is going to dinner with strangers going to help us?"

He studied her for a moment, then rose and walked across to the fire. "I'm betting one of the guests will be the woman Hank met in the cafe."

He threw several small logs on the fire and stabbed the coals with the poker. In the firelight, flickers of gold appeared to run through his hair as it dropped across his eyes.

Maddie crossed her arms and stayed where she was. Cold or not, she didn't want Jon to think her brief flirtation was anything more than a game staged for Hank's benefit. Didn't want him to think she would be willing to continue once they were alone. Especially when she could still taste him on her lips.

"What will you do if she is there?"

He glanced up at her. "I will apply my many charms and see what happens."

She raised an eyebrow in surprise. "You're going to flirt with her? After the show we just put on?"

"Basically, yes." He studied her for a moment. "I'm not sure that Hank bought the act anyway, and Eleanor is the key to this whole situation. Besides, maybe he'll think I'm after nothing more than another conquest."

Another conquest. Somehow the words seemed to roll so easily off his tongue. Is that how he lived his life, seeing women as nothing more than prizes to be won? "And maybe he'll just try to kill you again."

He shrugged. "At least we'll know whether he's involved or not."

"But—" "Maddie, the kids are what matter, nothing else. If we don't find them before the full moon, we won't find them alive. Now come over here and get warm."

She hesitated but realized she was being silly. He certainly wasn't showing any inclination to carry on their flirtation. He'd admitted it was nothing more than an act.

"We have to find them." Too many people had died because of her. She didn't want her nephew to join the list.

She knelt down next to him and held her hands out to the flames' warmth. "Did you ever find any of the other teenagers who were missing?"

He nodded. "Eleven, I think the count is up to."

She eyed him for a moment, then looked back at the fire. Something in his blue eyes told her she didn't want to know the rest of it. "And?" she asked.

"It looked as if they'd been used in some sort of sacrifice. They'd been drained of blood."

Drained of blood… She blanched. Christ, they weren't dealing with some sort of vampire cult were they? "You're not saying—" He sat back on his heels, his face grim. "No, it's not a vampire, or anything as simple as that here. I think we're dealing with some sort of magic ritual."

Why would anyone in their right mind think a vampire was a simple solution? What sort of world did he live in? Obviously a delusional one. For a start, there were no such things as vampires. She shivered and crossed her arms. It was just another reminder of how little she really knew about the man kneeling next to her.

"What makes you think Hank and this Eleanor are involved with the disappearances?"

"The man's not what he appears to be. He's involved somehow, I just know it."

"And Eleanor?"

He hesitated. "The same can be said about her."

Despite his earlier promise, it was obvious he still wasn't telling her everything he knew. "Then how safe was it to reveal yourself at the café? Wouldn't it have been better to remain hidden?"

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Firelight caught the hairs on his arms, making them gleam softly. "I honestly don't know. I just have a feeling time is running out, and that nothing will be gained by hiding. I've learned to trust my instincts in cases like this."

Just as she'd learned not to trust hers. It had been the instinct to protect herself that had led to all the trouble in her life. She swallowed the lump in her throat and pulled her eyes away from his steady gaze.

"Are you a cop or something?"

He hesitated. "I'm a private investigator, of sorts."

"Of sorts?"

He shrugged and didn't elaborate. Frustration ran through her. Why wouldn't he tell her anything about himself? Didn't he trust her?

"So, you charm the pants off this woman." Her voice held a slightly sarcastic edge that made her wince inside. "What happens then?"

He rose, moving away from her. "What happens next depends very much on her, doesn't it? Do you want to shower first?"

She glanced up at him. His bright gaze told her nothing, but she sensed he was suddenly annoyed. Over what, she couldn't say. "No, I'll stay near the fire a bit longer."

He nodded. She watched him walk away and wondered what was going to be harder—being in the same room as Hank, or watching Jon flirt with another woman.