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Authors: Joan Swan

Blaze (9 page)

BOOK: Blaze
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Owen's superior chuckle scraped Jocelyn's raw nerves. “Wishing you'd stayed in the private sector, Jocie?”
A fiery spear of pain slashed her heart. “Don't call me that.” Halfway through the bark, she wished she could pull it back. Only Jason called her Jocie. And Owen knew it. Owen could call her Joce. But not Jocie. Never Jocie.
“Hey, hey . . .” He held up his hands in surrender and enlisted that purring voice he used when he wanted something. “I'm sorry, honey. You're still a little sensitive.” He shrugged, all innocence. “It's been over six months now. I guess I figured . . . I didn't realize. I'm sorry.”
She ground her teeth to keep from responding. If she admitted to still hurting over Jason's death, aching over his absence, mourning over how much time she'd wasted at work instead of spending it with him when he'd asked, she'd expose her weakness. If she got angry over Owen's sentiment, he would take it as admittance. There was no win. Manipulative bastard.
“No, I don't belong in the private sector,” she said instead. “But neither do I belong working with such incompetence, and I won't stand for any manipulation. I'll take care of this situation just like I would in any sector—public or private. Professionally and permanently.”
Owen pushed to his feet, left the papers on the table, and pulled an envelope from his back pocket. He tapped the paper against one palm, a pensive expression pulling at his mouth. “This came for you while you were on that conference call with Schaeffer a couple of hours ago.”
Crap. What now? “What is it?”
“I wasn't sure . . . I mean, I was trying to find a good time to give it to you, but . . .” He looked up, an uncharacteristic sympathy in his eyes. “I guess there really is no good time.”
Unease curled through her stomach. “
What
is it?”
“I don't know. It came by messenger from, um, Carl Sutton's office.”
Jason's attorney.
Jocelyn managed to tighten her throat around the sound trying to escape. Managed to keep her face frozen against the pain.
Owen lifted cautious eyes to her face. “I thought Jason's estate was all settled.”
She swallowed, cleared her throat, and managed a weak, “So did I.”
 
. . . You should see them together . . . once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. . . Rostov's heredity research . . .
Keira was still trying to piece together that bizarre stream of information when Tony smacked his BlackBerry against the steering wheel with a curse. She flinched and came fully out of the half-hypnotic state she'd been using to tap into Tony's thoughts. Not that she'd been getting anything anyway. Whispers of possible messages continued to linger just out of reach, and his new flash of anger not only tossed a black sheet over his mind, but it added to Keira's anxiety, interfering with her abilities.
Mateo stirred where he lay against her chest. He'd finally fallen asleep half an hour ago, allowing her to focus.
Tony dropped the phone into his left pocket, close to where he held his gun, resting against his thigh. Well out of Keira's reach.
She'd had nearly two hours to consider escape plans—none of which was appealing in the middle of a quickly cooling, pitch-black desert night with no cover, no weapons, no food, no water, and no freaking idea where they were or which direction she should take. But tidbits of Tony's conversation—specifically the part about getting rid of her and being thirty minutes from an exchange point—told her she'd better do something. And given the risks and her limitations, fucking with his head seemed to be her best bet.
“You've gone and done it now.” She projected a bored, knowing tone as she stared out the passenger's window at the black expanse she hoped to be sprinting over soon. “You've gone and made a decision on your own. Don't you know you're not supposed to think, Tony?”
“You really don't get it,” he said, his attention steady on the road. “You never did. You look at the trees and miss the forest. You just don't have the vision.”
After working with Tony for a year, she knew he wasn't the clearest thinker when he was pissed off.
“You mean the one that involves sacrificing individuals for the sake of experimentation?” she said. “Using human guinea pigs to test your latest inventions or scientific discoveries so you can turn around and give that information to soldiers who can then apply it in warfare to destroy other human beings?
That
vision? No, Tony. I don't have that vision.”
“This is the problem.” He slammed his palm against the steering wheel. “You completely twist the idea. If you'd been more sensible in the first place, none of this would have been necessary. I could have gone at this mission from an entirely different direction.”
Yeah, he could have used her more completely than she'd already allowed. “Are you working for the same men Jason Vasser was working for? Are you working for Jocelyn Dargan? For Senator Schaeffer?”
Tony's mouth compressed in frustration. He had a narrow face, broad forehead. His dark hair was too long at the bottom, too thin at the top. His dark eyes set too far apart. He was an attractive guy when you looked at his face as a unit, but no one feature alone was the least bit handsome.
“Don't start,” he warned. “Vasser has nothing to do—”
“It's called manipulation, Tony, not the greater good. The common thread here is manipulation and control, not American freedom and safety. Framing Teague Creek for murder, rigging the trial so he'd go to prison and stop asking questions about that warehouse fire—tell me, where was the greater good in that? A little girl lost her only living parent. Teague's escape from prison—for something he didn't do in the first place—caused the deaths of innocent bystanders. Forgive me, but I'm not seeing a benefit to the American people anywhere in that scenario.”
“Creek's got nothing to bitch about,” Tony said. “He and Alyssa Foster made bank on that situation. After her brother raked in double settlements, they're living in fucking Fort Knox in Truckee. Neither will ever have to work another day of their lives if they don't want to.” He rested one elbow on the window ledge, his fingers rubbing hard strokes over his forehead. “Besides, that situation was different.”
“No, Tony, that's the point. It
wasn't
different. Let's compare that to what happened today. For whatever reason, Rostov went off the reservation. He'd made progress with Mateo, and your . . . psycho scientists . . . wanted the new and improved toy, but Rostov said no. Finders, keepers. Your job was to find out what was really going on, to find a way to steal Mateo back. You knew about me, about the way I acquired my powers through similar chemicals. Hell, you work for the people who caused them in that fire. So you used me.”
Though how he knew she'd feel this deep connection to the boy, Keira had no idea. Maybe the people who'd exposed her to the chemicals in that explosion five years ago understood more about how she and her teammates would develop their powers than they did.
“But what happens, Tony, when things don't go exactly as planned? What happens when someone finds out about these chemicals and Rostov and Dargan and Schaeffer and all the games they've been playing?
Manipulation
and
control
. They turn the scene over to the army so they can classify information and destroy evidence.” Before she went on, Keira coated her stomach with an imaginary steel lining, because the facts she was going to hit him with would otherwise make her puke.
“Did you do your homework on the ranch, Tony? Do you realize there were thirty-four children living there?
Thirty-four
. Sixteen adults. Your people slaughtered them, Tony. Slaughtered them. Because of
you
. Because of
your
plan.”
“Stop.”
“Have you ever seen that many bodies? In pieces? Burned?
Women
, Tony.
Babies
.”
“Enough!”
She paused. Gave him a minute to wipe the sweat from his upper lip, slow his breathing, then pushed on. Going for the break.
“I've studied Dargan for a long time. Schaeffer, too. You know all that overtime I spend at the office, Tony? That's what I'm doing. Investigating
your
people. That's how I know they're all about
manipulation
and
control
. Life means nothing to them. Loyalty means less than nothing. It's all about power, and all they want are yes men. You went beyond yes. You put your mind to work. What do you think they're going to do to you after you drop us off? When they realize they can't trust you to stay in line?”
“What happened at the ranch . . . wasn't us. It was Rostov.” Tony cast an uncertain look her way, as if he were searching for affirmation in her eyes. “Our organization cares more about life than most Americans. We're fighting to sustain and better all Americans' way of life by doing the work the public wants done but doesn't have the guts to approve.”
“Straight out of the DoD black ops manual. Nice.”
“If one kid could save thousands, are you saying you'd let thousands die to save that one?”
Her arms tightened around Mateo. “That's a theoretical question that can't be answered.”
“It's not as theoretical as you think. Any threat to America threatens our children.”
Our children.
Mateo's weight seemed to double. Something unnerving shifted in Keira's belly. “And whose child is this, Tony? Who has he been snatched from to be used as a pawn in your war games?”
Tony's teeth clenched hard. His fingers choked the steering wheel.
“Who is he, Tony?” An indescribable need to know stoked her anger. “Where did he come from?”
“Some ghetto in Greece.” Tony spat the words, his hand flying with the confession. “He's a fucking street urchin who begged for food like a dog. Even a restricted life in America is better than how he existed.”
An uneasy tingle slithered under her skin and sank into her stomach. He was lying. She didn't know how she knew, but she knew. “You're saying you pulled him off the streets?”
“
We
didn't do anything.
Rostov
did.”
That part felt true. But which streets remained in question.
“If you're not involved, how do you know that?”
“The same way you know things, Keira—information, research, observation.”
“Stalking. The way the rest of your department watches our team. We all know we have shadows.”
Surprise registered in his dark eyes.
She snorted a laugh. “I'm an FBI agent. You don't think I'm going to notice someone following me? Don't think Teague Creek is watching every damn move around him?”
He looked away, shrugged. “Each of you has value. Each of you poses a risk. It would be stupid not to monitor you.”
Mateo lifted his head from Keira's shoulder and rubbed his eyes.
Lucas.
Mateo's single word filled Keira's head.
“Stamata t'aftokinito, Thia. Stamata to,”
he murmured.
Frustration sizzled over her skin. He could have been speaking an alien language for all she understood. The only thing she got out of that was Lucas. Maybe Luke was close. And even if he wasn't, Keira had to make a move soon. Who knew what would happen in thirty minutes?
“He probably has to pee,” she said.
“He can wait.”
“You obviously don't know kids. This car is going to reek of urine in about two minutes. You got to take a piss over an hour ago.” Which had been a very good thing. If he hadn't, she wouldn't have been able to call Luke. “But you expect a kid to hold it?”
Tony looked at his watch, rubbed his hand over his mouth.
“Stamata t'aftokinito, Thia.”
Mateo's voice rose in a whine.
Keira looked down into his earnest eyes. He was trying to tell her something, and she didn't think it was that he had to pee.
“Fuck.” Tony took his foot off the gas pedal and slowed to a stop in the middle of the deserted two-lane road. “If you try to run, I will shoot you. Do you understand me? Even in the dark, I'm almost as good a shot as you are, Keira. Don't make me prove it.”
SIX
K
eira kept her mouth shut so she didn't ruin this opportunity to escape. Maybe her only opportunity.
Tony scanned the surroundings and dragged Keira across the driver's seat and out the door. She struggled with Mateo's weight. The boy tried to hang on instead of standing, causing all her injured muscles to pull.
The cold night closed around her, adding gravity to her circumstances. The air was frostier than she'd guessed from inside the car, but as long as she kept moving, she'd be okay.
Tony pushed her off the cracked asphalt to a dirt strip. “Get busy.”
Keira set Mateo on the ground, guided him a few feet away, and crouched in front of him. She searched the terrain from beneath her lashes, or at least what she could see of it in the sliver of moonlight and the diffusion of headlights.
A whisper of calm blanketed her shoulders. Unjustified, but real. Familiar, yet unknown.
The sandy dirt pitched and rolled in hills so slight she hadn't noticed them from the car. Ones that could provide temporary seclusion as she ran. But she'd have to do something to disable Tony first. She was fast, but carrying Mateo, she'd never outrun the man.
“And while we're out here, you go, too, Keira,” he snapped, nervous eyes darting right and left in the car's faded side beams. “I'm not stopping again. For anyth—”
A wave of energy splashed her with heat just before a fleshy smack split the air. Tony grunted and stumbled sideways, then whipped around, his weapon pointed into the darkness, wavering from one area to another, searching for the threat.
“She doesn't like being bossed around.”
Luke.
A mixture of excitement and relief pushed the breath from Keira's lungs in one long whoosh, and she smiled. A big, face-splitting, cheek-pinching smile.
His voice snaked through the quiet night from what seemed like every direction, but she could feel him kicking off surge after surge of emotion on Tony's right. Volatile, complex emotions she couldn't label.
Tony twisted one way, turned another, unable to pin Luke's location. Another crack of flesh on flesh, and Tony flailed backward. The flash of his gun burst red against the black surroundings. The sound exploded in Keira's ears. Her heart jerked at the same time Mateo grabbed her shirt with both hands and squealed in terror. She scooped him into her arms and darted to the opposite side of the car.
Once she'd set him on his feet, Keira pushed him back by the arms and looked him in the eye. “Stay here.” With a shake of his shoulders and a determined gaze, she repeated, “Don't move.”
When she turned and scuffled toward the trunk, she anticipated the grab of his hand, the sound of his voice calling her back, but neither happened. Peering around the bumper, Keira watched the men's silhouettes struggle. Both were tall. Both lean and muscular. Both trained fighters. But Luke's blond hair shimmered golden in the moonlight.
In a crouch, she started toward them. The vibrations flowing off each were so different, she would have known who was who even if she hadn't been able to see the shine of Luke's blond head. She followed her senses and angled behind Tony. Grunts, kicks, smacks, scuffles. Another gunshot. Keira's heartbeat spiked.
Her gaze hooked on to the neon flash, and she lunged. She caught Tony's wrist from behind and yanked his arm backward. When he turned a shocked look her way, Luke plowed his fist into the side of Tony's face. He jerked, spun, and dropped. Keira stomped on his forearm, wrenched the gun from his hand, and pointed it at his chest. But Tony didn't notice. He was already unconscious.
“Goddamned sonofabitch!” Luke clutched one fist inside the other, both held tight to his body. “I think I broke my fucking fingers to go along with my fucking ribs.”
A laugh bubbled up from her throat. A traumatized, Tinker Bell–like laugh. When she lowered the gun, her hand was shaking. Her gun hand never shook. Never. The laugh twisted into a pained moan of relief as her shoulders sagged and her mind shorted out.
Luke advanced on her, shaking out his fist, a grimace on his scruffy face. His energy or aura or whatever the hell it was she felt spilling from him traveled in tandem, and his approach pressed in on her like an impending tsunami. She fell back a step before he closed his arms around her, yanked her against his body, and lifted her off the ground.
Sizzle. Pop. Buzz.
The current mellowed to a soothing hum. Warmth coated every inch of her body. She melted into him. Dropped her arms around his neck, her face against his shoulder. He was warm and hard and strong. He smelled so good, fit her so perfectly.
Oh, yes. This is where I belong.
“Jesus Christ, Keira,” he muttered against her neck, where he'd buried his face. Where she wanted it to stay. Where she wanted him to kiss her. “You just took ten goddamned years off my life.”
She skimmed the fingers of her free hand through his hair. Still as rich and soft as she remembered. “Only ten?”
“The
second
ten. The first ten came off when I saw you hanging from that roof. At this rate, you're going to dig my grave in a week.”
She grinned. “You always said I'd be the death of you.”
He loosened his hold and let her slide down his body. And, oh, wow, how had she forgotten the steely, searing beauty of it? By the time her feet touched the ground, her hips were wedged against his erection, her belly pressed to his, her breasts flattened against his chest, and fire ripped over every inch of her.
Luke started to pull back, but Keira held on. She shouldn't. She knew. But her arms wouldn't release his shoulders. His hands gripped her waist, fingers digging into her flesh and holding her against him, as if he, too, was having a hard time letting go.
He looked into her eyes, and she could have fallen back in time—to when she could read his mind with one look into the beautiful blue irises. Now, she saw traces of that man. Relief, lingering adrenaline . . . desire. Yes, definitely desire. Need pulsed deep in her abdomen. She lowered her gaze to his mouth, so very hungry for the taste of him again. His lips looked fuller outlined with several days' worth of whisker growth, and they were so close.
“Back then I was talking about how you wore me out in bed.”
She watched his mouth move with the words, basked in the way his voice showered over her, and smiled at the same time fire exploded at the center of her body. Her fingers slid into his hair, head tilted up until her mouth was on a trajectory with his—
“Thia.”
Mateo gripped her jeans.
Her eyes snapped up from Luke's mouth and met his; found them mirroring her flash of surprise. Then they crinkled at the corners with his slow smile, and Keira's heart flipped, twisted, and floated to her throat.
“Thia. ”
Mateo bounced restlessly at their feet, his arms stretched up to her.
“Aggalia.”
Reality check.
She released Luke, and as if the three years separating them whirled in to take over, contentment and love washed out on one wave, disappointment and heartache swept in on another.
Definitely a reality check. What in God's name was she thinking? Kissing Luke was like inviting catastrophe into her carefully secured world. She needed to get back to Sacramento—way the hell far away from him.
Mateo clawed at her clothes, panic shining in his eyes. Exhaustion crept into Keira's muscles. As much as she wanted to wrap that little bundle of heat into her arms, she just didn't have the energy.
She set the safety on Tony's weapon, stuffed it into the waistband of her jeans, and dropped into a crouch. Mateo immediately crawled into her lap. And while one type of heat ebbed, another grew. She closed her eyes and let her face drop against his pillow of curls. This was all so damned confusing.
“I can't carry you anymore, kid.” She glanced up at Luke. “He may not look big, but he gets heavy after a few hours.”
Reality seemed to have crept in for him as well. His smile was gone. The light, crystal-clear eyes she'd looked into just moments ago had turned dark and veiled. Scowl in place, one arm crossed protectively across his abdomen, he used his foot to roll Tony onto his back.
“This from a woman who maneuvers her body like a freaking acrobat.” He leaned down and grabbed the collar of Tony's shirt. “You're going to have to handle the kid. I've got this mess to deal with.”
With a firm hold on Mateo, Keira pushed to her feet. Luke hauled Tony across the dirt and onto the asphalt, dropping him alongside the still idling vehicle. Tony's head smacked the road, and Keira winced. Luke pulled handcuffs from the back of his jeans, clamped one around Tony's limp wrist, the other around the passenger door's handle. He paused for a moment, bent over, hands on knees, breathing hard, face scrunched in pain. Then started going through Tony's pockets.
“What are you doing?”
He plucked the wallet and phone from Tony's trousers and shoved them into his own jeans. Then he tugged off the unconscious man's dress shoes and chucked them into the darkness.
“What does it look like I'm doing? I'm making sure he doesn't go anywhere anytime soon.”
“But . . . Shouldn't we take him in . . . or with us . . . or something?”
Luke's eyes cut to hers, looking more silver than blue in the moonlight. “You were the one who told me not to trust anyone. Do you want to explain all this to local deputies?”
“Well, no.” It sounded absurd now that he'd spelled it out. Still . . . “It just doesn't seem right to let go of someone who knows so much. He has information—”
“That I doubt he'd give us short of torture.”
“How did you find us?”
Luke opened the back door. With one long leg extended behind him, the other knee braced on the backseat, he rummaged through the car's contents. She didn't notice he hadn't answered. She was too busy staring at his butt. She couldn't say it was her favorite part of the male anatomy, she preferred the tan, sinewy strength of a man's forearms. Or hands. Broad palms, long, strong fingers, short, clean, well-shaped nails. Good hands were hard to find. But Luke's hands . . . Oh, Luke's hands were . . .
No, no, no.
Keira snapped a mental stop sign into place. Really,
don't go there
.
She had to admit, Luke's butt had always been exceptional, too. Perfectly shaped, muscular . . .
“Why don't you make yourself useful instead of staring at my ass?”
She was startled out of her daydream, her face heating all over again. For a long second she wasn't sure if he'd said it or thought it, but the words still rang in the cold night air, and her embarrassment ramped up faster than she could shift Mateo to her other hip. “Get over yourself. I've seen better.”
He straightened from the car and shot her a smirk.
No, you haven't. You've said so yourself.
The memory of telling him what a great ass he had and how much she loved it every chance she got so many years ago sent a rush of heat up her neck. And the way Luke was projecting his thoughts as easily as if he'd spoken was really starting to bug her. “You sonofa—”
“You really should stop swearing in front of the kid.” He rounded the car to the driver's side.
She narrowed her eyes and beamed her next thought at his head like a softball.
Fuck you.
“Baby.” He pulled open the car door and crossed his arms on the roof, his eyes intent and direct on hers. “Don't let that smart mouth write checks
your
sweet little ass can't cash.”
She wasn't going to take the bait. It would just start a senseless fight. “You're reading my thoughts now, too?”
“I guess so. Lucky me, huh?”
Luke ducked into the car and rifled through the glove box and center console while Keira tightened the reins on her temper. He knew exactly how to push her buttons. This must have been where she'd learned how to mess with people's minds.
He shut down the engine and pulled the keys. The silent night rushed in and filled the void, shaking her back to her barren surroundings and the near freezing temperatures. She shivered.
Before she could broach a discussion on plans, Luke turned, drew back his arm, and chucked the keys into the night.
Keira's mouth dropped open. “What . . . ? Why did you . . . ? How are we . . . ?” Her mind clicked in and she peered around the darkness again. “You didn't answer me. How'd you find us? How'd you get here?”
“I found you the way you expected me to.” He came back around the car, took one last satisfied look at Tony, and put a hand on her arm, urging her forward. “The GPS on your phone. Brilliant, by the way. I'm impressed.”
She shouldn't be bolstered by the offhanded compliment, but she was. “Where are we—”
BOOK: Blaze
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