Born of Fire (35 page)

She stared down at the dark street and her stomach hit the ground. For a minute, she was ill, but she swallowed her panic and forced herself to look around. It wasn’t until a piece of paper blew across the street that she finally saw one man walking.

“Right there,” he said, pointing to the man pacing between two lamps that she’d noted. “And over there.”

She looked at the other man sitting on a nearby bench, looking like a homeless urchin. How had she missed seeing him before?

As she stared at them, she realized their clothes were far too new and clean for them to be homeless and she couldn’t imagine any other reason for them to be about. “Why did they choose such obvious vantage points?”

“They’re decoys.”

She turned toward him with a raised brow. “Where are the others?”

He shrugged. “No telling. They might be looking at us right now.”

Then how could he be so calm about it? “And to think I turned down the chance to get a good night’s sleep at your office.”

“Yeah, well, I told you to stay put.”

“Next time I’ll listen.”

He pulled his hood on, then secured two lines down the side of the building. “Vik?” He tapped his earpiece that kept them in contact with each other. “You see anything?”

“Nope.”

He glanced to her expectantly.

She pulled her own hood on and tucked her braid into it. A bead of sweat ran between her breasts as she thought about what would come next.

She would be hanging about three hundred feet above the ground. One misstep and she’d die.

Painfully.

As if completely unperturbed, Syn swung over the edge and began his rapid, fearless descent. She swallowed hard and watched the expert way he danced down the side of the building, his boots clicking ever so slightly against the two-inch metal piece that separated the mirrored blocks.

Well, she couldn’t let him get the better of her. Licking her dry lips, she carefully climbed over.

As she began her much slower descent, the chilly wind whipped against her body.

How could Syn do this for a living? How could anyone?

Just one tiny slip and . . .

Well, whoever had the unpleasant task of cleaning up the mess would probably be able to use a sponge on her remains.

With that thought foremost in her mind, she looked up at the roof and tried to think about someplace safe. To her complete dismay, the only safe place that came to her was an image of Syn holding her.

Good Lord, what was with her? She’d never had such delusions before. Never even had a single hormone rear its ugly head.

Until him.

Something about Syn had chiseled away her indifference and invaded her thoughts and heart in a most terrifying way.

Out of nowhere, two hands grabbed her legs.

“You’re almost there,” Syn said, guiding her to land on the balcony beside him.

Letting go of that rope was the easiest thing she’d
ever done. She rubbed her hands down her sides, trying to use the material of the gloves to absorb some of the clamminess.

Syn pulled several little discs from his pack and placed them at each corner of the windows.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“They’re light filters. They’ll keep anyone on the outside from seeing a light while we’re inside.”

“Wow. I’ve never heard of anything like that.”

“That’s because I invented it and I’m not real eager to share it with other people.”

“Did you really?”

He paused and turned toward her. Even though she couldn’t see his face, she was certain he was giving her a look to rival the winds for coldness. When he spoke, she was even more positive. “I can do a lot of things that don’t involve stealing.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, she narrowed her eyes. “Did I say you couldn’t? You, my friend, are seriously defensive when it comes to your past.”

“You should try me on my future sometime.”

Before she could ask what he meant, he slid open the door and stepped inside. Once she entered, he pulled it closed.

All of a sudden he froze, as if something had stunned him.

Was it the Rits?

Her heart pounding, Shahara squinted into the darkness, but couldn’t see anything. “Where’s a light?”

It flared on.

Her breath caught as a sick feeling washed over her.

Oh no
. . .

His immaculate home looked like a city’s waste facility. His paintings had been torn from the walls and
slashed. The sofas looked like they had met a huge bird of prey and lost their battle to survive.

Papers, chips, and discs littered the entire floor. Even the food she’d left behind had been pulled from his cooling unit and dumped on the floor where it’d rotted and filled the place with a very
lovely
little odor.

How could anyone do such a thing?

If there’s one thing I value, it’s my home.
She winced at the memory of Syn’s words. Looking at him, she saw that he hadn’t moved. He just stared at the mess.

His expression pained, he swallowed. “My cleaning lady is going to be really pissed.”

Deciding laughter would be the worst possible response, Shahara added, “I’ll take the odds that say she’s going to quit the minute she sees this.”

It was then that his icy facade slipped under a mask of ultimate fury. “Damn them,” he ground out between his teeth as he jerked the hood off his head. He pulled his hair free of the ponytail and raked his hands through it. “I hope you all rot in hell, slimy bastards.”

Shahara wasn’t sure how to react. He reminded her of a spring that was too tightly wound, and at any minute she expected him to explode. Every single muscle in his body was tense. Even his eyelids, and she’d never known that those could get tense.

He released a hissing breath and started kicking at papers with the toe of his boot.

Suddenly, he froze again.

“No . . . gods, no,” he breathed as if some horrible thought had just occurred to him.

He took off to the bedroom like lightning.

Cautiously, she followed after him, afraid of what she’d find.

He stood before the open wall safe and pulled chips
and papers out. “Where is it?” he growled as if the safe had contained his very soul.

“What are you looking for?”

He ignored her. Instead, he fell to his knees and started frantically searching the floor of the bedroom.

Her heart clenched. She’d never seen him like this before. After all they’d been through, she thought nothing could rattle him. But he was completely torn up by whatever was missing.

“Did they get the map?”

When he looked up, her breath caught in her throat. Primal, evil hatred blazed in the stormy blackness of his eyes. He looked like a wild lorina about to attack.

Shahara swallowed. How had she ever forgotten just how dangerous this man was?

“You want the fucking map?” he snarled. “You can have it.”

He charged at her so fast she half expected him to hit her. Instead, he stepped around her and lifted his enormous ebony-wood dresser with one brutal shove. Glass shattered as the mirror hit the floor and broke into a million pieces.

After flipping the dresser on its side, he kicked one of the intricately carved legs off of it. He handed it to her.

Shahara looked down to see a folded piece of paper and a disc concealed inside a hollowed-out space.

He returned to searching the floor.

Okay . . . the map wasn’t what had him upset.

She pulled it out and put it in her pack, then knelt down beside him. “What are we looking for?”

Again he turned on her with a snarl. “Get out!” he shouted. “Just get the hell out of my sight!”

His fury stunned her. Not that she blamed him. What
they’d done here was uncalled for. And he must blame her for this.

After all, she was the one who gave them his address.

How could I have been so stupid?

She had destroyed his life. Caused him to be beaten, chased.

And now this.

The one and only thing he valued.

Clearing her throat, she gathered as much dignity as she could and went back to the main room. She pulled the hood off her head and sighed as she surveyed the utter destruction around her.

What had she done?

It had all seemed so simple at first. Hand over a convict and save the four of them. How much simpler could it be?

Only it wasn’t simple. She’d destroyed an innocent man.

No, not entirely innocent, but he didn’t deserve this. No one deserved to have their home ripped to pieces.

Over and over she saw his beaten body, heard the thump of him hitting the prison floor. The sight of his young, battered face in the photograph.

He’d been amply punished for anything he’d ever done. He surely didn’t deserve any more.

At the moment, she hated herself for her part in it all.

He saved my life, took my fear away, and I repaid him by kicking him in the teeth.

Shaking her head to clear her blurry vision, she gazed down at the mess surrounding her and saw a fragment of one of the photos he’d kept inside his prayer box. She knelt down and picked it up. It was his sister. Though the lower half that contained him had been torn off,
Talia’s face still remained untouched. Maybe she could find more.

With that thought, she began to hunt frantically through the debris. Granted, it wouldn’t rectify what he’d lost. But at least it would give him something to hold on to.

Just as she found several more pieces, a loud shattering sound came from the bedroom.

What the . . . ?

Terrified that a sniper had shot through the window, she entered the room and saw Syn standing just inside a large gaping hole in the windows, where he’d thrown his office chair through them. The wind rushed in, billowing the white curtains toward him. Papers whirled and danced while he just stared out into the darkness with his hair whipping around his handsome face. He looked primal. Fierce.

Lethal.

A statue of a man ready to take on the universe and destroy it.

Thinking about the trackers below, she rushed to the window. She looked out to see five people running toward the building. “They’re coming for us,” she warned him.

“Let them.” His tone was as sinister as his stance.

She stared at him in disbelief. “What?”

Ebony strands of hair whipped around his face, some catching in his whiskers.

When he looked at her, his eyes were brittle obsidian. Bereft. “I don’t care what they do. I’m tired of running. Fuck them. Let’s fight.”

She was aghast. “Well, you picked a fine time for that attitude, buddy. You know, you could have at least consulted me before you turned suicidal. Especially
since my life is currently tied to yours. Thanks a lot, asshole.” Her heart racing, she glared at him. “Stay here and die, then. I’m at least going to try to live through this.”

Syn watched her leave. He tried to tell himself that it was good riddance. Let her find her own way.

But even in his feral and furious state, he knew she wouldn’t get far on her own. And for some insane, stupid reason, it mattered to him whether she lived or died.

Let her go.

He couldn’t. Too weak to fight his conscience anymore, he chased after her.

Shahara heard her pursuer pulling himself up on the rope next to her. Expecting the worst, she looked down, ready to fight. Instead of a tracker, she saw Syn climbing up behind her.

As he drew even with her, he grabbed her by the waist and swung her over to another balcony.

“What are you doing?”

“Saving our asses.” With that, he shot the grappling hook toward the roof. She wrapped her arms and legs around him an instant before they shot upward.

She stared at his stern features. “Thank you for not disappointing me.”

His answer was a grunt as he helped her over the lip of the building. Once he was safely beside her, he scanned the rooftop. A strange, throbbing beat echoed around them, shaking the roof under their feet.

Shahara frowned at the noise.

Whatever could it be?

Before she could ask, Syn grabbed her arm savagely and pulled her down to squat behind the building’s atmospheric control unit. He shielded her body with his
own and, in spite of the danger, she trembled with the familiarity of his body pressing against hers.

Suddenly, a bright light exploded across the rooftop. Her breath caught in her throat and in an instant, she knew the source of the noise.

They had a rover after them.

Harsh bright searchlights crisscrossed the rooftop, turning the darkness almost as light as if it were the middle of the day. It would be only a few minutes before the craft located them.

Her heart sliding into her stomach, she looked up at Syn. “What now?”

“I’m thinking.”

“Could you think a little quicker?”

He cast her a dark glare. “You’re not helping.”

Not helping? She wanted to choke him. “You’re lucky you’re still breathing and not limping.”

Vik swooped down and literally crawled into Syn’s pack like it was a mother’s cocoon.

Shahara scowled at him. “What are you doing?”

He poked his beak out. “I don’t wanna die, man. They’re not playing. Have you seen how many of them are out there?” He shivered. “One just took a shot at me, so unlike you morons, I’m hiding. Hiding is nice.”

She huffed at him. “You can’t die, Vik. You’re a mechbot.”

He vanished completely into the pack. “They can pull me apart and reprogram me. Trust me, that’s death.
Now shush before they find us. Remember—hide, people, hide.”

Syn growled low in his throat, then he loosened his hold on her arm. “Okay, I have an idea. Do what I do and step where I step. And no matter what, don’t fall behind. I won’t wait for you.”

Her heart thundered in her ears. They were dead. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. All they were doing right now was delaying the inevitable.

Inclining her head to Syn to acknowledge the fact that she was an idiot to follow him anywhere, she whispered a silent prayer.

Syn stepped around the unit and opened fire on the rover with his blaster. She bit her tongue to keep from protesting his stupidity.