Born of Fire (37 page)

What was wrong with him? They were about to be gutted and all he could think about was sex.

He was definitely losing his mind.

But then, if not for her, he’d be in custody right now.

Part of him wished that he were. He really didn’t feel like going through this anymore. Every survival impulse he’d ever had had died in his flat.

Who do I bother fighting?

He’d kept so few things from his past. So few were worth keeping. Goddamn those bastards for finding his
escape pack. It was pathetic, really, that everything he valued in his life fit in such a small space, but it had.

And now it was all gone.

Every piece. There was nothing left of the tattered remains of his past. Not one tiny memento. There was nothing to ever say that he’d even existed.

So why bother?

One look at Shahara and he knew why. She had people who depended on her. She still wanted to live. He’d dragged her here and he would see her to safety.

One way or another.

“You ready?”

Shahara nodded. She smiled as she realized his uniform didn’t quite fit. “What if someone sees you?” She pulled at the extra fabric hanging over his stomach.

“They won’t be paying attention to us. They’re looking for someone out of uniform.”

Not sure if she bought his argument, she folded up her clothes. “What are we doing with our gear?”

“Tuck your clothes into the pack and hold it down to your side and to the back.”

She frowned. “Won’t they see it?”

“Not if we’re lucky.”

“You have a lot of faith in luck, don’t you?”

“Not at all. She’s a vicious bitch who seldom knocks on my door.” His voice was frigid. “I have a lot of faith in people’s inability to see what’s right before their noses. Now come on.”

As she followed him out of the room, she thought about his words. He was right. All these years, people had searched for him and he’d been living in the middle of a major city, running a major company. It said a lot about being able to hide in plain sight.

He was simply amazing.

Syn kept a tight grip on his pack as he led her through the hallways that were crawling with armed enforcers and trackers who scoured the area for them.

Vik was already outside the building. “It’s scary out here, boss. They’re hot for your ass in the worst sort of way.”

He would have responded, but didn’t dare in case they were using a scanner to ID his voice. They’d been relatively safe inside the metal lockers that shielded them, but now that they were out in the open, it was a new set of rules.

“Hey! I think we found them.”

A group of enforcers ran past them, to whatever someone had thought they found. Two trackers dressed in brown ran past with a third one coming up with a slow, deadly swagger.

There was something about the last one that stood out, and it wasn’t because he was dressed all in black with spiked vambraces and custom blasters. He, like Syn, was alert to things the others missed. This wasn’t some run-of-the-mill tracker or low-IQ enforcer.

He was a predator.

Syn tipped his head down as the tracker went past. But his attention was so focused on the one he needed to be wary of that he missed the next one who slammed into him.

Shit
. . .

The tracker stopped and eyed him intently. Recognition registered.

Syn dropped his pack and punched him hard.

“They’re here,” the tracker snarled into his link as he returned the blow.

Syn cursed as they became the focal point of every person there. “Run,” he shouted to Shahara.

To his shock, she didn’t. She pulled out her blaster and shot the tracker.

Targeting lasers danced all around them as the trackers and enforcers swung on them. Syn ducked the fire, slung his pack over his shoulder, and pushed her forward as he pulled out a smoke bomb and threw it.

Shahara repeated the gesture, tossing hers in the opposite direction. Shots flared all over, some narrowly missing them.

Acting on pure instinct, she grabbed Syn’s arm and pulled him toward an alcove.

Syn followed her, then realized they were completely trapped. Cursing, he looked at her and saw the fear deep in her eyes.

“We’re not going to make it, are we?”

“Yeah, we will. It’ll take more than these bastards to bring me low.”

But before he could make good on that, a shadow fell over him.

It was the predator he’d seen, and he had his sights trained right between Syn’s eyes.

Shahara couldn’t breathe as she waited for the final shot that would end their lives.

It didn’t come.

The tracker scowled at them—something that was truly eerie given the black eyeliner that emphasized his merciless steel-gray eyes. “Wade?”

Syn returned the expression. “Scalera?”

A slow smile spread across the tracker’s handsome face. The dot vanished off Syn’s forehead. Scalera shook his head. “Leave it to you to be neck deep in this shit.”

“Fuck you.”

Shahara had no idea what was going on, but as more soldiers headed for them, Scalera shielded them with cover fire.

“Go, Wade.”

Syn didn’t hesitate as he took her arm and obeyed, all the while shooting at anything that moved.

“This is suicide.” Shahara aimed at her own targets.

But as they ran, she realized that Scalera was Trisani—and a powerful one at that as he threw their attackers to the ground with nothing more than a hand gesture and used his telekinesis to cover them. He
caused some of the trackers to fire on each other, while he slammed others into the walls, transports, and other objects.

Man, to have those powers for five seconds . . .

As they started for their shuttle, Scalera teleported to cut off their escape and stop them. His ankle-length black leather coat rippled around his body with fluid grace. “Your ride’s compromised.” He jerked his chin to their left. “Head to Bay Eight. We can commandeer another one.”

Syn looked as doubtful as she felt, but he did as Scalera suggested. When a guard moved to confront them, Scalera held his hand out and threw him to the ground.

They kept moving until Syn stopped next to a green ship. “Vik? You better get here now.” He pushed the controls to extend the ramp while she and Scalera covered his back with drawn weapons.

Vik flew in over their heads. “They’re getting reinforcements. You bonebags better tel-ass or lose them.”

Syn ran in first with her and Scalera coming in behind him. Scalera retracted the ramp while Syn went to the bridge to start the launch sequence.

Still not sure if they should trust Scalera, she went to help Syn.

She took the navigator’s seat while he fired the engines and ran a preliminary check.

“Nero,” he said into the intercom, “I need a cover blast at four o’clock and you better use your powers to open the bay’s door or this is going to be a fatally short ride.”

Shahara watched as the bay doors stretched open slowly. It was obvious they were locked down and
fighting Scalera’s efforts. Syn didn’t wait for them to open. He put the throttle down and gunned the engines.

The ship lurched forward at a velocity that plastered her against her seat. Unlike her, the ship had no idea they were about to impact with that wall and burst into flames.

Syn’s gaze narrowed with a deranged glint. “Do or die, baby. Do or die.”

Her heart hit the floor as she realized they really were going to slam into the closed doors. Nothing was moving.

This was it . . .

Bracing herself, she prayed.

Syn didn’t slow even a bit. He went forward without hesitation.

She bit back a scream.

Just as they reached the doors, they snapped open with only the lower section scraping against the bottom of the ship. The sound of steel on steel was painful but at least it wasn’t fatal as they popped through and soared into the atmosphere.

She leaned her head back and took a deep breath in relief. “I seriously hate you, convict.”

Vik snorted. “I just oiled myself, boss.”

Syn gave them both a droll glare. “Stop your bitching. We made it.” Then under his breath, he added, “Granted it was by our short hairs, but I haven’t killed us yet.”

Scalera joined them, his face white as he collapsed into the gunner’s chair.

Syn glanced over at him. “You all right?”

He nodded weakly as he breathed in ragged gasps.
The one bad thing about Trisani was that the use of their psychic powers also drained them physically. If they overused it, it could cause them to lapse into a coma, have brain damage, or die.

His dark blond hair was streaked with black in a becoming tousled mess that fell around an angelicly perfect face. Every feature appeared to have been chiseled by a master artist and yet there was nothing pretty about him. He held a raw masculine grace that was ruthless and angry.

Stubble marked his face, adding an even more rugged air to him. It was obvious he lived the same way Syn did.

By his wits, strength, and brutality.

Nero draped one long arm over the chair and rested his hand next to Syn’s shoulder. “I have to be a raging idiot to cover your ass, Sher. Damn, why did it have to be you?”

“Just lucky, I guess.”

Nero made a mocking sound. “When did you change your name, anyway?”

“A while back.” Syn set their course and introduced them without looking at them. “Shahara Dagan, meet Nero Scalera. Nero, Shahara.”

One finely arched brow shot up. “As in Seax Dagan?”

Syn banked and shot them into hyperdrive. “One and the same.”

He sucked his breath in sharply. “I’m impressed. Didn’t know seaxes hung out with people like us.”

Syn snorted. “Everyone slums eventually.”

Unamused by Syn’s words, Shahara had to give Nero credit—he was recovering well from the power
expenditure that had left him ragged a few minutes ago. “How do you two know each other?”

Nero inclined his head to Syn. “Little bastard saved my life.”

“When?”

Syn answered as he programmed the autopilot. “He was in prison with me.”

That was interesting. “The first or second time?”

Nero gave him an arch stare. “You went back?”

“Not by choice.”

He let out a low whistle. “Damn, Wade. You were always an unlucky bastard.”

Syn shot her a sullen glance. “Tell me about it.”

“So what happened?”

“Got busted hacking, what else? I was a stupid kid trying to eat.” Syn swung his chair around to face him. “What about you? How did you end up working for the enemy?”

“Like you said—gotta eat and I grew tired of clients trying to rip me off, or worse, kill me.”

Syn gave him a mocking salute. “Tell me about it. My current situation was caused by a fucking client trying to screw me over when all I did was save his daughter’s life.”

Nero wiped his gloved hand over his chin as he cracked a charming grin. “People suck.”

Syn’s gaze went to her, but he didn’t say anything. He pushed himself up from the chair and went to check on Nero. He pulled out a light and shined it into Nero’s eyes to test the dilation. “You burn anything out?”

He shook his head and moved out of Syn’s grasp. “Not even a nosebleed. I’m good.”

“Cool. Can you take the helm while I go clean up?”

Nero scowled. “What? You piss your pants or something?”

“Definitely something. I just need a little time alone to regroup.”

Something passed between them that Shahara couldn’t read.

Nero stood up. “Sure. I got it. Take your time.”

Syn didn’t even look back at her as he left her alone with Nero, who moved to take the captain’s seat.

She watched as Vik shifted into his mechbot form and plugged into the computer. He didn’t say anything as he settled down into what looked like a nap.

“You and Syn seem really tight,” she said to Nero as he checked their readings.

“We were.”

“What happened?”

He turned in the chair to face her. “Nothing, really. We were both being hunted, so we split up to have a better chance at survival. He went his way. I went mine.”

She had a feeling there was more to it than that, but Nero didn’t seem to want to elaborate. “How old were you when you were in prison with him?”

“Nineteen.”

She arched her brows at his age. That would make him almost ten years older than Syn, yet she would have guessed he was no older than his mid-twenties. “You don’t look that old.”

He shrugged. “Trisani don’t age like other races. One of our better gifts.”

Definitely. She wouldn’t mind having that gene herself. “And what did you do to go to prison?”

Something dark passed over his face. The electronics around him popped and hissed as if he had a power
spike that rattled them. “I’m a full-blooded male Trisani who survived infancy. Any idea what people do to us?”

Trisani males were even more powerful than the females. The only problem was that their powers had a bad tendency to kill them before they were old enough to master them. If that wasn’t bad enough, because of their abilities, their entire race had been hunted to the brink of extinction. Other cultures and beings either feared them for what they could do or wanted to harness and use their powers for themselves.

Even though the Trisani were a peaceful race, their entire history had been one of bloodshed and brutality.

“You were enslaved?”

A tic started in his jaw. “I was sold to the warden when I was five—after my parents and sister had been slaughtered. He kept me in prison so that he could use my powers for his own advantage. I didn’t belong there any more than Syn did.”

And it was then she remembered something he’d alluded to with Syn. “So how long have you been hiding your powers from others?”

“Long enough to remain free and not have to run every other day. I only use them when I have to.”

Yet he’d used them tonight . . . Not for his own survival.

For theirs.

And the most miraculous part about that was the fact that he didn’t strike her as particularly altruistic. “Why did you expose yourself to save us?”

He cast his gaze in the direction Syn had taken when he left them. “Sheridan could have escaped prison on his own, but he refused to leave me to what they were doing to me.” He winced as if the pain was more than
he could bear. “You have no idea what that kid did to free me. But I know, and it’s a debt I’ll never be able to repay.”