Fireborn

CHAPTER 12

Silently cursing my luck, I stepped out from behind the tree and said, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Rescuing your stupid ass, obviously.” His voice was clipped, frosty. “Why else would I be out here in the middle of goddamn nowhere?”

I crossed my arms and glared at him. “And just how do you know I need rescuing?”

He snorted, his gaze sweeping me. Though his expression remained hostile, there was the tiniest spark of relief in his eyes when his gaze met mine again. “Anyone with half a brain can see that you need help, even if you’re too stubborn to admit it.”

“And why might that be? Care to take a fucking guess?”

He raised an imperious eyebrow. “Because you didn’t step away from the investigation when you were told to?”

My fists clenched and, for the first time in hours I was glad I didn’t have much in the way of flames. It would have been entirely too tempting to burn his arrogant ass to hell and back.

“And maybe, just maybe, it was the drugs you gave me that all but handed me over to the sindicati.”

He stiffened abruptly. “When did you land in the sindicati’s hands?”

“Like you didn’t know.” Sarcasm rode my voice. “Isn’t that why you’re out here, to gloat and say I told you so?”

“No. I’m out here because the tail we’d placed on you reported the incident with the van, and we’ve been searching for you ever since.”

“And you just happened to be assigned to the very area I was dumped.” I snorted. “That suggests either dumb luck or connection to me, Sam.”

“If,” he said, voice low and barely controlled, “you’re suggesting I’m connected to the sindicati, you would be well advised to take it back.”

The darkness and fury in him was so fierce, the blood drained from my face and I couldn’t help retreating a step. “So it was dumb luck?”

He hesitated, then shrugged. “It was just an odd hunch.”

An odd hunch. Very convenient. And yet I did believe his statement that he wasn’t involved with the sindicati. Had it been Luke saying those words, it would have been another matter.

I frowned, wondering why Luke had even entered my thoughts, then said, “And why would you and PIT even bother looking for me, given I’m nothing but a nuisance getting in the way of your investigation?”

“Because,” he said, voice tight, “you’re a key player in that investigation—and one we certainly don’t want in the hands of the sindicati.”

“Yeah, well, shame you didn’t think about that before you gave me the drug and left me defenseless.”

He snorted. “You could still use that tongue of yours. It’s sharp enough to cut glass, after all.”

“Just fuck off, Sam,” I said. “I don’t need—or want—your help.”

With that, I marched through the scrub and headed down the road again. After several seconds, a door slammed and the car continued on up the hill. Surprise flitted through me. Despite my words, I really hadn’t expected him to go.

The surprise was short-lived, however. A few minutes later, the car pulled up alongside me. Obviously, he’d left only to find somewhere to turn around.

“Red,” he said as the passenger-side window slid down. “Get in the car.”

“What, are you going deaf or something? Didn’t I just tell you to fuck off?”

“And we both know I’m not going to. Get in the car.”

I stopped. So did he. For several seconds we simply glared at each other. But the truth of the matter was, I did need help, and it was stupid not to accept his just because I was madder than hell at him at this particular moment. Besides, being stubborn wouldn’t help Jackson, but Sam just might.

I opened the door and got in. He planted his foot on the gas and the car took off.

“So,” he said, once we were on a main road again. I could see the city skyline in the distance but had no idea where we were in relation to it. “What did the sindicati want?”

“What do you think they wanted?” I couldn’t help the annoyance in my voice because, well, it was a stupid question.

“Obviously, it was related to Baltimore’s research, but all indications suggest they have that already.” The darkness in him briefly rose, touching his eyes and sending chills down my spine. Thankfully, it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. I wished I could say the same about the desire that always stirred when he was this close. He added, “Unless, of course, you’re holding additional information you haven’t told anyone about.”

“I’m not. Baltimore gave me five notebooks to transcribe the night he was murdered, and that’s all the information I had.”

“Well, they didn’t snatch you for the hell of it, so what did they want?”

“The fifth notebook.”

He frowned. “But they snatched all the notebooks from your apartment, didn’t they?”

“Well, someone did. There’s no evidence it was actually the sindicati.”

“I can’t imagine it being anyone else.”

I shifted slightly in the seat and studied him for several seconds. He didn’t react in any way to my scrutiny, though I had no doubt he was aware of it.

Eventually, I said, “Can’t you?”

He frowned. “Can’t I what?”

“Imagine anyone else wanting the research?”

“Well, yeah, the government. But the government wasn’t involved in the raid of your apartment.” He paused, giving me a dark look. “And before you say it, neither were we.”

“Of course, I have only your word on that.” It probably wasn’t the wisest comment in the world, but it was out before I could stop it. The inner bitch, it seemed, was alive and kicking, even if the rest of me felt like doing nothing more than rolling over and having a good sleep.

“Of the two people in this car,” he growled, “there’s only one with a history of lying—and it’s not me.”

“I didn’t lie,” I snapped back. “I just didn’t tell you the entire truth.”

He snorted. “That’s a cop-out, and you know it.”

“What I know,” I said, voice icy, “is that I believed you couldn’t and wouldn’t understand the situation with Rory. I still think that. Hell, you can’t even hear his name without exploding in anger.”

“And for a damn good reason.”

“Did it never occur to you that I might also have had a good reason?”

“You were sleeping with another man,” he growled, “even as you were professing to love me. What more is there to understand than that?”

“Far more than you will now ever know,” I bit back. “Life isn’t black-and-white, Sam. Not when you’re dealing with someone who isn’t human.”

“But you live in a human world, and you were with someone who at the time held very human beliefs. How the hell did you expect me to react?”

There was anger in his voice, but there was also hurt and pain. It was a reminder that while his reaction had hurt me to the core, it was my actions that had truly ended our relationship. It was my refusal to trust, to share what I was and what that meant, to believe that someone could love me once they knew, that had doomed us from the very beginning.

Even so, I couldn’t help saying, “What I expected was a chance. But you couldn’t even look me in the eye once I told you what I was.”

“Because when I looked at you, all I saw was a lie. You, me, everything. It was all a lie.”

I closed my eyes against the sudden sting of tears. It wasn’t a lie. Not then, not now. “If you believe that,” I said quietly, “then you’re an even bigger fool than I thought.”

“Well, that, at least, is something we can agree on.” His voice was bitter. “Who else do you think could have taken the notebooks, if not the sindicati or us?”

I took a deep, somewhat shuddery breath and fleetingly wished I could turn my emotions on and off as easily as he seemed able to. “It could be the very same people who took Professor Wilson’s body.”

A lone muscle along his jawline ticked, but other than that, I might as well have been staring at a blank canvas. “And why would you think that?”

“Well, it’s hardly likely the red cloaks snatched Wilson’s body for the sole purpose of getting rid of any DNA evidence that might be found on it. An attack as public as that one suggests it was a very deliberate choice—and that means there’s another reason. One that’s a whole lot scarier.”

“That Professor Wilson is alive and now one of the red cloaks.” He briefly met my gaze. “We are aware of that possibility.”

“Then why not at least mention it when you knew Jackson and I were investigating Wilson’s death?”

“Why would I, when fruitlessly pursuing information on Wilson at least kept you away from Baltimore’s investigation?”

“What? You didn’t trust your own drugs to do the job for you?”

“I ordered you away from Morretti, and for a damn good reason. He’s not someone you want to tangle with, in any way, shape, or form. Especially now.”

I frowned. “Why especially now?”

He took a deep breath and released it slowly. Obviously, he hadn’t meant to add that little tidbit. “Because the sindicati is on the verge of a factional war, and it’s not something you want to be caught in the middle of.”

No, it certainly wasn’t. But if that was the case, which faction had questioned me? Morretti, or the other? And did it even matter in this particular case?

“Yeah, well, I’m not exactly defenseless,” I muttered. “Or at least I wasn’t until you snatched any recourse I had of self-defense.”

“Let’s not get overly dramatic,” Sam all but growled. “The drugs only dampen psychic capabilities and shape-shifting for forty-eight hours. I’d foolishly hoped that you might come to your senses within that time and leave the investigation to the experts, but I should have known better.”

“It’s kind of hard to walk away from something when vampire goons and their werewolf buddies seem intent on either tracking me down or beating me up.” I shook my head. “But that’s not the only reason drugging me was dangerous, Sam. I’m spirit, not flesh, and no matter how much you and your organization think they know about phoenixes, trust me, it’s little more than a drop in the ocean.”

“And I will do whatever is necessary to protect the people I work with against forces that could destroy us, Em. And if that means risking the effects of a drug on an unknown entity to prevent an attack, then so be it.”

But that entity was someone you’d once professed to love. The words echoed through me, bitter and filled with hurt. Damn it, no. I wouldn’t go there. Couldn’t go there. This man might be the love of this lifetime, but that love was now a part of my past. It needed to remain there, no matter how much pain, regret, and anger lingered in the present.

No matter how much the occasional glimpse of the old Sam fanned the embers of hope.

“You know what? This is getting us nowhere. Just stop the car and let me out. Rory can—”

“Your damn lover can wait.” The darkness within him was suddenly so close to the surface it was a living thing that crowded the car’s cabin. “You’ve got a notebook to find and hand over first.”

I somehow resisted the urge to inch away from him. In this confined space, that darkness—whatever the hell it was—was far too close, far too real, and far too dangerous. And, oddly enough, it reminded me a little of the man who’d silently watched me from the shadows.

“Rory is as vital to my life as the air I breathe in this form,” I replied, the bitterness within me evident in my voice despite my best efforts of control. “And the very least you could have done was listen. What we had deserved—”

“Enough.” It was an order and a warning, all in one. “We’ve studied your building’s security tapes. It wasn’t red cloaks who broke into your apartment, but a thief with a long history of subcontracting to the sindicati.”

I took yet another of those deep, steadying breaths, but it had as much of an effect as the rest of them. “I gather you’ve a warrant out on him?”

“Of course.”

He flicked on the blinker, and I realized with a start that we were now on the Tullamarine Freeway. Whether Sam was heading to PIT’s headquarters or my home was very much up in the air, but I suspected the latter given he wouldn’t want to risk me finding the notebook and handing it over to the sindicati.

“Unsurprisingly,” he continued, “he’s made himself scarce, but we have people checking his usual hangouts, just in case. The question, however, is why—if the sindicati have all the notebooks—do they now believe they are missing one?”

“That I can’t tell you.”

“Were there four or five on the USB you gave me?”

“Four, as I told you when I handed it over. I’d typed up the remaining one, but hadn’t gotten around to transferring it.”

I still had those notes, thanks to Rory. But I wasn’t about to tell Sam that. Not yet. I might need it as a bargaining chip for Jackson’s life.

“And you have no idea what happened to the final notebook?” Sam said.

“No. As I’ve told both you and them, as far as I was aware, all five had been stolen.”

His gaze narrowed, and just for a moment it felt as if he were trying to read my mind and unpick truth from lies. Eventually, he said, “Well, obviously not by the sindicati if they were willing to go to such lengths to secure it.”

“I think they saw me with Amanda Wilson and decided to kill two birds with one stone, so to speak.” I hesitated. “You do know that the sindicati tried to kill her, don’t you?”

He shrugged. “To be honest, good riddance. But why the hell didn’t you report the attempted murder to us rather than the police?”

“Because I was—and still am—pissed off at you.”

“Yeah, well, that’s a two-way street,” he muttered. “How are you supposed to get the notebook back to the sindicati?”

I crossed my arms and looked out the side window for several seconds. It was tempting—very tempting—not to answer, but I’d already seen the lengths he was willing to go to get what he wanted, and I wasn’t about to risk another such debacle. Not with Jackson’s life on the line.

“They’ve given me a number to call.”

“What number? I’ll have it traced.”

“Why? It’ll undoubtedly be a burn phone.”

“Perhaps, but we might be able to get GPS positioning on it.”

“And how does that help, exactly? Whoever is currently holding the phone will be a subcontractor. The sindicati haven’t shown any real propensity to place themselves in the line of danger.”

“Exactly, which makes the fact that they took such a risk to grab you in broad daylight even odder.”

“As I said, I think I was merely an opportunity too good—”

“And what,” he bit back, “if you’re wrong? What if you were the target all along, and they were merely waiting for the right moment?”

“If they were going after me, they could have done it a whole lot sooner. Hell, I was next to useless for hours after you dumped us.”

“Except that they must have known we were watching you. That accident was not only very well timed, but executed in an area from which they could get away very fast—and they took our people out along with Jackson’s truck.”

Another chill ran through me. To do something like that took time and planning, and that could only mean he was right. But it also meant Amanda might not now be in the hands of the sindicati if she hadn’t insisted I uphold my end of our deal. And that, I thought grimly, was karma at its finest. “Are your people okay?”

“Yeah. The same cannot be said for Jackson’s truck, however. I’m not actually sure how Amanda Wilson survived that crash—there was a lot of blood on the seat.”

Seat. Damn, the USBs. “Where’s the truck now?”

“It was hauled away. I believe the police have been trying to contact Jackson.” He gave me a look that sat somewhere between annoyance and disgust. “Wouldn’t happen to know where he is, do you?”

“Yeah, I do. And thanks to you, he’s in the same place I was.”

Sam’s eyebrows rose. “Why in the hell would the sindicati want him?”

“As insurance. I give them the notebook, they free him.”

“Well, that ain’t going to happen.”

I stared at him for a moment, unable to believe he’d actually said that. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“What do you think it means?” His expression was grim. “You’ve seen the red cloaks. You’ve seen what they can do. The life of one Fae is not worth the lives of the millions who could be affected if this thing gets out of control. We need the cure—or at the very least, a vaccine. To get it, we need those notes.”

“If you think I’m going to let you sacrifice Jackson’s life—”

“You haven’t exactly got a choice here. You’re in this car, with me, and you’re not getting free of either anytime soon.”

“What? You’re going to chain me? Because that’s the only damn way you’ll keep me captive.”

“Well, there is the drug option. Or I could simply take you back to headquarters and lock you in one of our flameproof cells.” He half smiled, but it was a cold thing, holding little in the way of amusement. “It was designed to hold pyrokinetics, so I’m thinking it should be fine against the fires of a phoenix.”

I snorted. It might well be capable of withstanding the fires of a pyro, but he was forgetting one thing—I was a fire spirit. Of course, at this particular moment I was a fire spirit stuck in flesh form, but under normal circumstances, a cell of any sort wouldn’t have held me. Not unless they’d employed witches to create magical barriers.

But I wasn’t about to tell him that—why give him a heads-up? Hell, even if I didn’t find myself in that cell, another phoenix might. While there was generally only one pair per city, it wasn’t unusual for youngsters to linger in an occupied city for a few weeks or months while they were looking for a place to call their own. And there were always free cities—no older pair could ever remain in one place their entire lives. Sooner or later, it paid to move on—especially in places where hatred for nonhumans was high. Melbourne was pretty mild compared to some cities, but even so, Rory and I would risk only a few more rebirths here before we went searching for somewhere new. Personally, I was voting for any city that had more warm days than it did cold. Somewhere with bigger, wider sunsets where a firebird could enjoy the freedom of the skies every single night.

“For god’s sake, Sam,” I said, shoving away pleasant thoughts of warm skies and freedom, “when did it suddenly become okay to sacrifice even one life? You’re still a cop, even if the department you work for has a fancy title. Didn’t you swear to protect and serve? To—as the force’s motto says—uphold the right?”

He didn’t answer. Didn’t even look at me. But that lone muscle along his jawline was back in action. My words were hitting home, even if he wasn’t responding. But would they make any difference? Once, maybe, but whatever had happened in the years since we’d parted had obviously altered at least some of the core beliefs and values of the man I’d once loved.

Would always love, no matter how much I fought it.

I sighed. “Look, I know we can’t give the sindicati what they want, but, by the same token, you cannot seriously be saying you’re going to let Jackson die. If you do, then you and PIT are no better than the things you hunt.”

“Sometimes,” he said, his voice holding a deep edge of bitterness, “you have to become the darkness if you’re to have any hope of hunting it.”

And he had become that darkness. It was in him, around him. But it hadn’t yet totally consumed him. He wouldn’t be arguing with me like this if it had. “The minute any society starts that sort of thinking, it dies. Trust me. I know.”

He gave me another of those dark glances, blue eyes glinting fiercely in the gloom of the car. A tremor ran through me, fear and desire combined. “Just how old are you, Red?”

“Didn’t your mother tell you it’s impolite to ask a woman’s age?”

“Meaning, I take it, you’ve had more than a few rebirths.”

“Yes. I’ve seen Death in all her forms, and I have no desire to see her visit anyone I care about.” I met his look evenly. “Hell, I don’t want to see her visit someone I used to care about, which is why I saved your useless ass in the first place.”

“Bet you’re regretting that decision now,” he muttered. “Look, I’ll do what I can, but if it comes down to the notebook or Jackson, the Fae is a goner. We need those notes to have any hope of gaining ground on this virus. The sindicati—or anyone else—are not getting their hands on it.”

“Unfortunately,” I said, “they’ve already warned that the minute they suspect PIT or police involvement, Jackson is dead.”

“Then he dies. We have no other choice.”

“There are always choices, Sam. You’ve just got to be open to them.”

He made a short chopping gesture with his hand. “There is no alternative in this case, Red, and you know it.”

The time had come to reveal the ace up my sleeve. And, hopefully, it would be an ace and not another brick wall.

“That’s not exactly true,” I said. “You know how we’d presumed they’d taken my laptop along with the notes? Well, they didn’t. Rory has it.”

“And you’ve known this how long?” he said, voice remote and all the more scary for it.

“Since about five minutes after I woke up in that field.”

“And you didn’t think to mention this earlier?”

“I did think about it, but I decided to see how reasonable you were going to be first.”

He shook his head, his expression a mix of annoyance and frustration—which was infinitely better than that dark and scary anger. “And this alternative of yours?”

“We find the notebook,” I said, “and you take it. In return, you let me keep the laptop so I can exchange it for Jackson.”

“Haven’t you listened to a single word I’ve said? The sindicati are not—”

“Getting Baltimore’s notes,” I interrupted. “Heard it, understood it. But I’m not intending to give them the notes. Not in their original condition, anyway.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You intend to alter the formulas?”

“I may not understand what I type, but I’m familiar enough with Baltimore’s work that I could fudge a couple of formulas and no one would be the wiser.”

“Unless, of course, they check when the file was last accessed. I would.”

“Yeah, but it’d be natural for me to open it to ensure it was still there.”

“You don’t have to open it to ensure that.” He paused, expression thoughtful. “There is another option, however.”

“What?” It was warily said, but I supposed I should be thankful he wasn’t threatening to grab everything and lock me up. Not yet anyway.

“We insert a Trojan into the computer. One that will destroy all files the second time it’s booted up.”

I frowned. “Why the second time?”

“Because they will undoubtedly want to check that the file is present—and not obviously tampered with—before they hand over Jackson.”

“Oh.” I bit my lip for a moment, then added, “Can you access such a Trojan, though?”

He gave me the sort of look one would give a particularly thick child. “I wouldn’t have suggested it if I couldn’t.”

“Meaning if you put this thing on the laptop, you’ll let me meet with the sindicati? Alone?”

“If that’s the way you want it, then yes. But just remember, the sindicati are not to be trusted. They are just as likely to kill you as release Jackson.”

I remembered the vampire’s promise. Remembered his anger at my doubting his word. They would let us walk away. Just how far we got—particularly now that I’d pissed him off—was anyone’s guess.

“They wouldn’t want to try,” I said quietly.

His gaze met mine. After a moment, he nodded. “We’ll head to your place first—”

The ringing of a phone cut him off. He picked up the earpiece sitting in the cup holder and slipped it on. “Yes?”

I couldn’t hear what was being said, but if Sam’s expression was anything to go by, all was not well at PIT.

“When did this happen?” he growled. Darkness crowded the car’s cabin again, its caress sending goose bumps down my spine. And yet the element of sensuality was perhaps even stronger, attracting as fiercely as the darkness repelled.

I really, really wished I knew what the hell it was.

“Many fatalities?” The reply was obviously yes, because the darkness became so fierce it was suddenly hard to breathe. “Keep me updated. Oh, and, Adam? You want to e-mail me that doc file Trojan? I need to set it up on a laptop.”

With that, he pulled the earpiece out and threw it into the cup holder.

“Problems?” I said, a little breathlessly.

“You could say that.” He shot me a glance that was pure fury—but this time, at least, it wasn’t aimed at me. “It seems your boss just walked out of the morgue.”