Born of Fire (23 page)

Shahara laughed. “You’re not my type, Vik.”

He
tsk
ed. “Yeah, it’s hard for you fleshy types to admit that we’re better in bed. ’Sa’ight. I understand.” He sniffed. “Not like I don’t have a crush on a lamp.”

Syn smiled. “You know I have missed you.”

Vik gave him a shaming stare—something incredible given the intricacies of programming that went into facial expressions. “But not enough to come back.”

“I’m truly sorry, Vik. I didn’t know it would hurt your feelings. I thought you liked it here with Digger.”

“He all right. But he not you. He so cautious, it boring.
You ever try to run with an old man? I miss what we had.” He paused before he added. “Can I come with you now?”

Syn hesitated. On the one hand, he’d like that a lot. On the other . . . “What about Digger?”

“He not doing much these days. Please, Sheridan. I don’t want to stay here. I’m going to rust and die from inaction.”

That was the last thing Syn wanted to happen to him. “All right, but don’t call me Sheridan. I don’t use that name anymore.”

“Asshole? That works for me.”

Syn rolled his eyes. “Syn. Call me Syn.”

Vik snorted. “Syn? What kind of stupid name is that?”

“Better than Vik.”

“Not really, but okay. If that be the terms, I abide by them.” He returned to his bird form and flew to sit on the sill. “By the way, I knew you were back when I heard some bonebags talking about the price on your head. They gathering men to come get you. You might want to prepare.”

Syn cursed. “We need to get up and get out of here.” And with that came a streak of worry over Digger. Wondering where he was, Syn headed to the front room.

The room was empty except for a pile of dark material and a note placed on the sofa. He picked it up and glanced to see Shahara as she came forward to stand in the doorway. “Digger went to buy some food.”

Folding the note, Syn’s gaze fell to the clothes. He tossed the smaller set to Shahara before he saw the black boots. “Hallelujah,” he breathed in relief. “I can finally put my feet into something that fits.”

“I’ve never seen a man so obsessed with shoes. Is
there something else about you that you need to tell me? Any other weird fetishes like wearing my underwear?”

He snorted as he remembered all the times in his childhood when he’d sliced his feet open because he’d been forced to go barefoot. “Hey, where I grew up, shoes that fit were a rare luxury and it’s one I’ve since grown way too accustomed to.” He noted the two backpacks at the foot of the sofa. Good. It looked like Digger had found the equipment they needed. He’d check it out more fully later. Right now he was dying to get cleaned up. And to get the ragged, scratchy hair off his face.

“I’m going to shower. Digger said in his note to make yourself at home.”

Shahara moved aside to let him pass. She watched him walk into the bathroom and didn’t move until she heard the water come on. All too easy, she could imagine him and that naked, ripped body glistening from the water.

Leaning back against the wall, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath to steady herself as a wave of fierce desire went through her.

What she wouldn’t give to be like Kasen. Her sister would be peeling off her own clothes right at this moment while she headed straight for Syn and that shower.

And she was sure it was a wondrous sight to watch the water drip off his chiseled features, catch in his dimple. See his wet, black hair curling around his neck and broad shoulders. Watch the water catch in the fine hairs on his legs, and other more intimate places.

To follow those droplets with her tongue while she suckled hard muscles that . . .

She let out an appreciative breath.

He would be magnificent. If only she were different.

Still, she couldn’t quench the fire in her blood. What
would it be like to make love to a man like him? To feel his strong arms hold her tight while he kissed her softly until she begged for mercy?

Shahara bit her lip in indecision. Was all of his kindness just a deception?

Was Syn like Gaelin, deceiving her with a false facade, waiting until he’d weakened her defenses before he struck?

Something told her Syn wasn’t like that and yet she couldn’t bring herself to trust him. She couldn’t afford to be wrong again.

Sighing, she pushed herself away and went to find something to eat.

A very short time later Syn joined her in the kitchen.

“What smells so good?” he asked, walking to the counter.

Shahara wanted to answer, but the sight of him cleaned up was the only thing she could focus on.

His black pants hugged his hips and other parts in a way that was pretty much obscene and left very little to the imagination. Not that she had to imagine. She knew only too well what resided beneath that tight fabric.

Blood droned in her ears as her body became white-hot.

He’d draped his shirt over his muscular shoulder. He reminded her of some mythic god emerging from the mists. Perfect in every way. Never, ever in her life had she seen a man so gorgeous.

When she didn’t answer, Syn turned around and stared at her. “Do you mind if I have some?”

Shahara forced herself to swallow. “Go ahead.” She diverted her gaze down to her own plate and hoped he didn’t notice the color on her cheeks.

As he turned his back to her, she couldn’t resist another
look at his tantalizing form. Without a doubt, he had the nicest, firmest ass she’d ever seen. And for the first time in her adult life, she wouldn’t mind a healthy serving of
that
rump roast.

Once he had his plate full, he joined her at the table. He took a bite, then made a terrible face.

Before she could blink, he dodged from the table to the compactor and spat his food out. Upset at his reaction to her cooking, she put her hand on her hip and gave him a chiding glare. “It’s not
that
bad.”

Grabbing a glass of water, he took two long, deep drinks. “No wonder you’re so skinny. I’d die of starvation too if I had to eat that.”

“Thanks a lot.”

He turned contrite. “I’m sorry. But you could have warned me it was deadly.”

Rolling her eyes, Shahara took a bite of her eggs. In all honesty she did have to agree with him. The eggs were runny and salty, the bacon burned, and the rolls wouldn’t be too bad. Provided you used them as a doorstop.

“What can I say, Tessa and Caillen are the cooks in the family, not me.”

Syn grabbed a piece of bread from the glass container on the counter and shoved it in his mouth as if he were trying to kill the taste.

She’d probably be more offended if she hadn’t grown up with Caillen being every bit as a cruel to her whenever she cooked.

“So what’s our agenda?” she asked, changing the topic.

He took another drink. “First thing, I need you to help me tape my ribs.”

“The Prinapin didn’t work?”

“Prinapin is good for minor injuries, pain, and
cosmetic fixatives. But it won’t do anything for more serious injuries, such as cracked ribs. And the last thing we need is for me to puncture a lung.”

She set her fork and plate aside. “Then what are we going to do?”

“I’m going to commit suicide.”

She looked at him in shock.

“Not literally. I need to go back to my place for a few things. If I know the Rits, someone will be there watching for me. So I need to leave you here and go it alone.”

“Now wait a min—”

“Don’t argue. I was trained from birth to break into buildings without being seen. You, on the other hand—”

“Did a remarkable job breaking into your flat without your detecting me.”

“Yes, but you
did
get caught.”

She couldn’t argue with him there.

“It won’t take me long, then I’ll come back for you.”

Would he?

She didn’t know for sure. And she wasn’t sure how much she trusted him on that issue. “Well, I think it’s time for my shower,” she said, reaching for the clothes she’d placed in the chair beside her. “That is, if you left any hot water.”

“Nag, nag, nag.”

Shahara rolled her eyes.

“Wait,” he said, stopping her before she left the room. “My ribs.”

Some wicked, buried part of her jumped in delight at being able to touch him so intimately.

Shahara crossed the room and took the white, ribbed sterile wrap from his hand. “How do I do this?”

He opened the roll and held a piece just above his navel. “Wind it tightly about my rib cage. But please, make sure it’s not so tight that you cut off my circulation.”

Shahara did as ordered. She lightly wrapped the bandage around his upper torso, her fingers brushing against the hard, firm muscles. As her hands glided over them, she watched as they twitched and jerked in response. He really did have an amazing body . . .

Her breathing ragged, she did her best not to think about the desire throbbing like fire in her most private places. Or the chill bumps that spread over his flesh and hardened his nipples as her fingers brushed his skin.

But the worst, most torturous part of it all was the step into his arms she had to take every time she drew the roll around his back. A step that brought her breasts straight up against his hard stomach.

Syn licked his suddenly dry lips as he watched her work. It took every piece of control he possessed not to pull her into his arms and sample her lips. He put his hands on the edge of the counter and held on so tight that his knuckles cut against his flesh, and the counter bit into his palms.

This was an even worse torture than anything the Rits had ever used on him. Hell, a few hours of this and he’d be begging for mercy.

She looked up at him and he saw the desire burning deep in the golden depths of her eyes. His control shattering, he dipped his head to hers.

Instead of fleeing, she leaned forward and then, just as he thought he’d have his taste of heaven, she pulled back.

“All done,” she said, her voice strained.

His body on fire, he couldn’t bring himself to thank
her. At the moment, it was all he could do not to curse her. Surely, unwrapped cracked ribs would have been a lot less painful than the unsatisfied heat that stabbed his groin.

She glanced down briefly at his tight pants where he was sure his arousal was standing at full salute, and her face turned bright red.

Without a word, she spun on her heels and took off for the bathroom.

“Don’t take too long,” he murmured, trying to shift himself into a more comfortable spot. “I’m definitely going to need a cold shower to stamp out this fire.”

Picking up his glass of water, Syn considered dumping it inside his pants to help cool his lust. Instead, he took a deep drink and went to the front to look through the backpacks and to inspect his boots.

As he searched their gear, he smiled at Digger’s thoroughness. There was nothing he’d left out. When it came to thievery, the old man was the best in the business and knew what any good filch would need to confront any ordeal.

Grateful for that fact, Syn set the packs aside, then pulled on his boots and shirt.

The door opened. Digger paused with an armload of groceries. “Nice to see you up and about.”

“It’s nice to be seen up and about.” Syn grabbed the bags from him and took them to the kitchen.

“I was hoping I’d get back before you got up. Your girlfriend said she didn’t know how to cook, so I was thinking I’d get you something solid for your ribs.”

Syn laughed. “I’m afraid you’re too late. She already poisoned me.”

“Well, when a woman looks that good, she don’t need to cook, now does she?”

Agreeing with him, Syn set the bags down on the kitchen counter. “Did you hear any talk while you were out?”

“Naw.” Digger pulled the groceries out of the bags and put them away. “I put in a few inquiries, but the word so far is silent.”

Syn rubbed his neck. “Yeah, well, there were two guys on the street yesterday who made me, and Vik said he’d heard some things. I figure it’s just a matter of time before they gather up enough courage or alcohol to come after me.”

“Damn pity when a man can’t even have a minute’s peace.” Digger looked up at him with an indescribable stare. “But then I guess you’re used to that.”

Yes, he was. Syn helped him put the food away.

Silence fell between them until Digger cleared his throat. As Syn turned around, he noted the sudden awkwardness. “What is it?”

Digger pulled out a chopping block and knife. He unwrapped a package of cheese. “I know it’s you who’s been stuffing my account.”

“What account?”

Digger thumped the knife down on the cheese, slicing a thin piece. “Now don’t you treat me like a fool, boy. Ain’t no one else who’d bother. I know it’s been you all these years. And I know why you sent Vik to me. I want to know why.”

Syn leaned back against the counter. He started to lie, but why? The truth was, he loved his uncle. He always had. “I owe you.”

Digger scoffed. “You don’t owe me nothing.”

“That’s not true. You got me out of prison.”

“Yeah, but I helped put you there. If I’d been a man, I’d have taken you and Talia away from your da when
your mom left. I should never have allowed the two of you to stay with him.”

“You didn’t know what he was capable of where we were concerned.”

“I should have.”

Syn sighed. “Yeah, well, if ifs and buts were candy and nuts, then we’d never go hungry.”

Applause sounded. Syn looked to the doorway to see Shahara standing there. She wore the same black armored outfit as he, but he had to admit it looked much better on her.

“I’ll have to remember that.”

Digger looked up. “Sheridan here tells me that you tried to poison him.”

She cast an accusing glare at Syn.

Before he could respond, Vik flew into the window and whistled so harshly, it made all three of them flinch.

“Vik!” Syn snapped. “Stop it.”

“Stop, my ass. A group of vigilantes just crossed the street. They’re coming for you and your girlfriend so you better run or get splattered.”

Shahara cast a frantic look at Syn whose face was impassive. “What do we do?”