Phoenix Broken (27 page)

Maybe she did have the hots for him, and maybe that made her kick things up a notch between them here and there, but she wasn't innately manipulative, or deceitful. Sure, he'd caught her hiding things, but that was because she
sucked
at being devious. It was obviously something she tried only rarely.

He should've known better. He should've trusted his gut.

“What is up with you, man?”

Scott blinked as Dustin's sharp tone startled him out of his own head. The IT guy was shoving a lock of black hair shot with hot pink off his forehead, glaring at Scott. “Why are you defending him? You’ve always been chill. Hell, you’re one of the least judgmental people I know…and believe me, I
know
judgmental. What happened to you?"

The back of his neck felt hot at Dustin's accusation. Scott cleared his throat, pushing his feelings aside, reminding himself what was at stake here. Catching Fannie's killer.

"Miles is right about one thing, we can't afford to make a mistake, Dustin."

Behind them, there came an impatient snort. Scott turned to see Mags, standing just outside the locker room. She'd obviously just come from Des.

“You got something stuck in your throat there, Foley?”

She folded her arms, her blue eyes like laser sights on Scott’s face. “Des isn't a mistake, and you
know
your reaction to her isn't either. You always have. Think of the havoc she could wreck with all the testosterone in this place. If Des let her demon lose in here, she could literally fuck you all to hell and back." Scott's whole body went tight at the thought of any man at Phoenix touching her. Any man but him.

"
…
but, if you haven't noticed, dipshit, the only male who loses their mind around her is
you."

Beside him, Dustin nodded. "Yup, I don't feel anything around her."

“Dude, shut up," Mags snapped impatiently. "You’re gay.”

Dustin's eyes narrowed and he gave a mocking gasp. “No
way.
The rumors are true?”

Mags rolled her eyes, but Scott ignored their familiar banter, his head spinning.
Who'd really been lying to themselves here?

“I haven't lost my mind around her,” he said, trying to believe it.

Dustin snorted. Scott gave him a look.

The IT man turned on his heel and moved to the far side of the Atrium at a brisk trot. Dustin had pretty good radar when it came to covering his ass. Mags did, too, but right now he could tell she didn't give a damn how pissed he was.

“Bullshit.
You’re mean as a snake to her half the time, the other half you’re….well, you know what." Scott wondered just how much she'd heard…or seen in Des' head of their encounters. He winced. "I know your issues, but fuck, Davidson, make up your mind, or leave her alone. You're hurting her."

“That isn’t true.”
Lie.

“The fuck it isn’t!” Mags was truly pissed. “I care about her, goddamn it. You have no idea what she’s done for—" Her mouth snapped shut. She shook her head before he could ask. “Nope. I ain’t going there. You figure that shit out for yourself, Davidson. Or not at all."

"Figure out what, goddamnit? You're wrong, Mags. I'm not messing with her head. I just don't know what's in mine."

“You’re a lot things, Davidson, but I never pegged you for a coward.” Mags stalked away, slim and straight with anger.

Scott watched her go, then stared at the locker room door in front of him. After a beat, he kicked it open with a bang.

"Mags, go away, damnit. I'm fine. I told you, I just need—" Des' voice cut off abruptly when Scott came around the corner. She swallowed, then looked back down at the bag she was filling. "Hey, Johnny. Thanks for the support in there."

"What?" Gratitude had been the last thing he'd expected from her, especially with all this guilt churning in his gut. "I didn't do shit."

"You told him to stop." She hitched her shoulders in a shrug. "You're a real stand-up guy sometimes, aren't you, Johnny? But I'm done."

"Where are you going?'

"Clearing out. I'll take my chances with the Dullahan, thanks." She pushed past him to take something from the open locker, but Scott grabbed her hips.

"Now wait just a goddamn minute—" his voice cut off as he stared down at his hands. She'd lost weight. He'd thought as much looking at her in the conference room, but….
a lot of fucking weight.
Where there'd been luscious curves, there was now a hint of delicacy that alarmed him.

"Have you been sick?"

She laughed hollowly and brushed his hands away. "You could say that."

"I thought… I didn't know. You've been avoiding me."

"Avoiding you? Why ever would I do that, Johnny?" Bright spots of color had appeared in those pale cheeks. He slapped a hand on the locker next to her, metal ringing out.

"Cut the bullshit, Des."

"Oh, I think all our bullshit is at a minimum right now."

He frowned as she lifted her chin. "What the fuck is
that
supposed to mean?"

"Who cares?" Her lips trembled, drawing his eyes. Bringing back memories of their taste. "You want to kiss me, don't you, Johnny?" There was a brightness in her eyes, almost as if she were on the verge of tears. Her voice was thready. "Why don't you just do it already?"

He stepped back, feeling uneasy at this brittle, shaky Desdemona. "Are you okay, angel?"

"Don't call me that. Just
don't."
She pressed herself back into the wall, looking impossibly small.

"Des, we need to talk. I need—"

"Just kiss me. I want you to kiss me one more time before I go."

He didn't want to. Well, yes, he
did,
but not like this. But when Des pressed up against him, Scott's brain shut off.

Christ, he'd missed the feel of her.

Her hands slid up his shoulders, fingernails scraping over his nape, giving him chills before she yanked his head down. Her mouth took his with an urgency that sent a surge of heat into his gut. The taste of her—that taste he'd been craving night and day—made him lose the thread of what they'd been talking about. Made him forget the knot in his gut, his worry that something was off.

Des curved into him; so soft, so tempting. He pushed back, his hands moving to her waist as they kissed, fitting himself against her as his cock started to harden. She sighed into him, winding her arms around his neck, going to her toes to rub against him.

"Fuck, Des," Scott groaned. His hands tightened, lifting her a fraction, making them both moan. "Don't do this to me."

Des yanked back, her eyes wild.

"Still think some demon mojo is making you do this….feel
this?
" her hand ran over his erection, sending a shudder through him.

It was on the tip of his tongue to say no, but his brain wasn't functioning properly. He couldn't form words. She gave him a shove that snatched all the air from his chest. Flashing a bright, bitter smile, Des pushed past him to grab her half full gym bag. "Thought so. See ya around, Johnny."

"Des, wait—"

"It doesn't matter anymore if you'll never be sure.
I am
." She slung the bag over her shoulder, forcing him to duck aside. Her words sparked the unease he'd felt earlier. What in the hell was going on?

"How can you be?'

"Because I ripped out everything I was,
for you.
In case there was the slightest chance you could be right. You just kissed a woman who has no powers; no demon, no anything.
Only a woman.
And you wanted her." She stopped at the door, looking back at him, those grey eyes as blank as he'd ever seen them. "Only now, she doesn't want you."

"Des, wait—"

She was gone, the door closing.

It took a minute before what she'd said earlier—about leaving and taking her chances with the Dullahan—to hit him. He ran after her, but she’d seemed to vanish.

It was only minutes later, though it felt like ages, when Scott burst into the Atrium. Mags was on the far side, giving Des a hug. He shouted, but the security desk was unmanned and both women ignored him as Des headed outside. Once again, doors were closing between him and Des.

Scott skidded across the tiled floor, reaching Mags in seconds. She grabbed his arm.

"Let her go, Davidson."

He shook her off, reaching for the brushed steel door handles.

"What is wrong with you? She can't
leave,
Mags! It's too damn dan—"

His fellow
para
pointed out the windows. Des was slipping into a car; a sleek black Lamborghini with tinted glass, but Scott caught the driver's profile as her door closed.

Calimente.

Mags' shoulders hitched once as she watched her friend disappear, but her blue eyes were hard when she gave Scott a sidelong look. He stood stock still, heart hammering inside his chest.

"It's for the best, I guess. He'll protect her better than we ever could," Mags said softly. "At the very least, he won't
hurt
her."

Once he could breathe again, Scott turned on Mags.

“What's wrong with her?"

She snorted. "You mean other than Rousseau trying to pimp her out and you…being fucking you?" She looked him up and down, with an expression that made his skin feel like it was on fire. “You know, Davidson, it’s hard to get mad at you, after all the crap you’ve been through. Really,
really
hard. But what you’re doing to Des … it ain’t fucking right.”

Scott stomped on the guilt that wanted to rise again. “Spare me the lecture, Mags. Just tell me what the hell's going on? What did she mean about ripping out her demon?”

“That’s easy. She’s taking the suppression drug we use for training sometimes; the one that cuts
para
powers down to nothing? The street version. It's called…"

Psych Out. 
Scott felt his heart stutter in his chest.

"Maybe you've heard of it? And what it does to shades?"

He had. Scott reached behind him for one of the waiting area chairs and fell back into it. “Why?” He knew the answer to that, though.

Didn't he?

“Because of you. Why fucking else? You made her doubt herself, made her think somehow she had lost control, even though that's total bullshit. That girl is one of the most in-control people I have ever met; human,
para
or shade. You shook her, damn it. Shook her down deep—”

“The psych suppressant, what …what did it do to her?”

"You're wondering if it's as hard on her as it is for us? Well, let me put your mind at ease, asshat, it was worse. Way fucking worse. The first night I came home and she was on it, she could barely function. She was shaking, sick, totally out of it. When she admitted what was going on—after I threatened to take her to the ER—or call Calimente—she told me it was like having part of your soul ripped out and shredded in front of you. Took her almost a whole day to come out of it the first time. She took it this morning, before seeing you." Mags' lips thinned as she looked at him. "That's why she was late."

Scott sank back in the chair, horrified. "This is what you meant when you told me to figure it out, isn't it?
Shit."

“Mostly, yeah. She doesn't really tell me much about what goes down between you two, not in words.” Mags sat down beside him. “She’s my goddamn roommate, though—and a succubae. Her mind is kind of an open book, Davidson. All those emotions running amok. Even
I
can’t shut her out 24/7. Little things bleed through. You add in what she thinks you are to her and—" Mags slapped a hand over her mouth.

Scott was afraid to ask.

"Don't,"
she whispered, looking panicked. "I'm not supposed to know."

After a moment, he nodded. He just wasn't up to dealing with any more surprises. Not today.

Scott got to his feet, glancing out at the driveway. The willow he'd once enchanted Des with was waving increasingly skeletal arms listlessly.

"This is all kind of funny, you know. Playing the go-between for you and Des." Mags gave a half laugh. "I had quite the crush on you when I started at Phoenix.”

It took a minute for her words to sink in.

Scott choked, turning from the window. “Jesus, Mags! You were like sixteen when Jules signed you on. And I was married.”

She tilted her head.
“And?”

He just stared at her, his mouth gaping open.

“That really gets to you, huh?”

If he wasn't mistaken, his cheeks were burning. “Goddamn it, Mags…

“Don’t worry," Mags smirked. "I’ve been over it for years. Fannie never told you?”

Scott choked on air for the second time in less than a minute. “She
knew?”