Taming the Fire (21 page)

God, he was an asshole. He wondered how Ender did it every day, all day long, because being a jerk wasn't Dev's natural state of being. He'd been harsh—angry with Gabriel, even as he could see that the boy clearly had been traumatized in some way.

Everything was getting screwed up, no matter how hard Dev tried to control things.

Still, Ryan had risen from the dead—an ACRO operative found alive was always reason to celebrate, and this was no different. But the heaviness settled into Dev's chest because he wished the same held true for Oz.

He smelled the fresh coffee brewing and it was only a matter of seconds before Marlena was in his office with a fresh mug of the hot liquid and her concern. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing.” He ran his hands through his hair, knew that Marlena wouldn't let him get away with that. “I think my sight might be… off.”

Marlena narrowed her eyes and studied him. “Interference?”

As in, a possible Itor problem. Now that the issue of his paternity had been solved and it was determined Dev himself was indeed the biological son of Alek, the man who rose to power as Itor's leader, Dev was always watchful to keep his mind—and his gifts—well protected. Having his mind broken into and ACRO secrets leaked to the enemy agency wasn't something he wanted to go through again.

“I don't think so.”

She already had her hand on the phone. “Let me call Samantha, just in case.” The head of the Medium department, and a woman who'd known his parents, she had helped to create a mental shield for Dev so Itor—and Alek—couldn't break into his head again.

“No really, it's nothing like that.” He put a hand over hers and reluctantly she put the sleek black phone back into its receiver. “It's just that I read someone's signals wrong. And I never do that.”

Marlena went to the couch, sat down, crossing her endless legs. God, she was beautiful—would make any man happy. The fact that she could never be happy herself tore Dev's heart out every time he was with her.

“I need more information,” she told him.

Right, she did. There was no holding back anymore. “Gabriel…”

Her brows went up, lips formed a small smile, but she didn't say anything. Wise move.

He continued, “Gabriel came to see me again.”

“Another problem at the gate?”

“He said…” He couldn't believe he was about to share this. “He said a dark-haired guy kept picking him up and dropping him off at my house, and… Fuck, do you think it's Oz?”

A few months ago he'd revealed to Marlena what Oz had told him about sending someone to him. He and Marlena had had sex and he hadn't wanted to be alone, had let her curl up next to him for the night.

“I think Oz was a very powerful man, but whether that extends from beyond the grave…” She shrugged as she trailed off. “The question really is, do you think it's Oz? Or do you think it's just time you felt something for another man?”

It was a question he'd rolled around in his mind as well, one he hadn't wanted to answer.

Apparently, he still didn't, as his fingers slid over to his keyboard to begin clicking on the morning's e-mail, and Marlena exited just as quietly as she'd entered.

Gabe was still trying to come to terms with everything ACRO. He'd been poked and prodded by a team of doctors and he'd met with a shrink—although he'd refused to talk with her about anything until she answered his questions.

It had proved to be a short session in her office, and it left him feeling more unsettled than ever, especially after last night's fight with Devlin. He'd woken up in his quarters, surprised he hadn't been dragged out in the middle of the night or fired or whatever the hell they did to people they no longer wanted in this place.

But nothing of the sort had happened. Instead, he was supposed to follow his usual roster of training duties and try to forget that he'd fucked things up badly with the first man he'd actually wanted to be with in years. To say it had put him in more of a foul mood than usual was a grand understatement, and when he'd referred to the ACRO operation as a “team of assassins no one could legally touch,” his new supervisor had tried to deck him.

And now he was at the outdoor gym with the ghost hunter named Creed—a grueling five-hour workout in which he had to fight every instinct he had and try to bring his strength back into the realm of normal.

But fuck, anything was better than being stuck with Annika—that bitch who could throw lightning bolts of electricity if he pissed her off. Which seemed to happen with excruciating frequency before she'd left him in tattoo-man's care.

Of course, he hadn't realized that Creed and Annika were, like, together. And so the first time he'd made a comment about her, he'd practically had his head torn off—but strangely enough, it hadn't been by Creed.

No, the large man with the tattoos over half his face and neck and left arm, from what Gabe could see, had simply stood there, staring at him before saying, “Enough, Kat.”

“Who the fuck is Kat?” Gabe had asked, clutching his head and turning it from side to side to make sure it was still attached to his neck.

“She's my spirit guide. Annika's one of her favorite people. And mine.”

Gabe had held up his hands in a show of surrender. “Point taken, man.”

Now, after several sessions with Creed, Gabe realized that the guy was actually cool as hell. Which totally didn't explain how he and Annika got along.

That thought earned him a pinch on the back of the neck from Kat.

“Ouch. Fuck.” Gabe rubbed the tender skin and Creed gave him a small when-will-you-learn grin.

Time to change the subject. “So, do Dev and Marlena date?”

Creed shrugged as he held the punching bag steady for him. This was part of getting him to realize—and control—his own strength. He'd been told that in the future he'd train with some guy named Trance, an excedo who had the same gift.

“It's complicated,” Creed said finally.

Gabe kicked the bag hard—too hard, apparently, since Creed went flying on his ass. “Christ, no one can give a straight answer around this place.”

Creed rose from the mat and dusted off. Gabe tensed for Kat's attack but none came. “Why do you want to know about Devlin so badly?”

“I need to get a handle on this place. Who's with who. It helps to navigate the system.” He was a damned fine liar when he needed to be, but he didn't think Creed would buy his explanation. Mainly because it was complete and utter bullshit.

“Marlena's there for him but she's not his type,” Creed explained, to Gabe's surprise. “Do you know what I mean?”

Gabe nodded.

“You're cool with that?”

Gabe was surprised as hell that Creed seemed fine with it. “Yeah, I'm cool. But it doesn't make sense.”

Creed paused, and for a second Gabe was pretty sure the guy was going to walk away from him. And then, “Dev lost the love of his life less than a year ago. An operative named Oz. His picture's hanging on the ACRO memorial wall. So if Dev comes across as more of an asshole than usual, cut him some slack.”

And that's when Kat chose to slam Gabriel from behind. He came to on the ground, breathing hard. Creed stood over him, studying him. “Devlin's one of Kat's favorite people too. If you hurt him or try to use him, she will kill you. And I'll help.”

“And what if I can make him happy?”

Creed startled, as if that was something he'd never considered. “Oz was one of my best friends—he was also my brother.”

Oh, fuck. “I'm sorry, man. I was just…”

Creed stared at him for a moment, his jaw clenched. “If you can make him happy, then you'd be all right in Kat's book. Mine too.”

With that, he was gone, calling over his shoulder, “Training's done for the day.”

Gabe hadn't hesitated in getting off the mat. Back in his room, he'd showered quickly, thrown on the usual uniform of all black BDUs, the only clothing he had since his bag had been confiscated the first night he'd arrived—for having too many creative weapons, he'd been told—and he headed out to find the wall Creed had spoken of.

It was on a far corner of the ACRO property—at the end of a long, winding path that Gabe supposed was somehow symbolic. It loomed large in front of him, a simple slab of stone embedded with pictures of people identified only by their first names. He scanned the memorial quickly, looking at the faces of the men and women who had served ACRO well. He stopped dead when he came to the picture of Oz, actually had to grab on to the wall to keep from crashing to the ground.

He didn't remember leaving the wall or taking the path back toward the main ACRO compound—all he could see was Oz's face in front of his eyes.

“You all right, son?” One of the guards had a hand on his shoulder to steady him. “You're awfully pale.”

“Too much training,” Gabe managed. “They're fucking killing me.”

The guard nodded in sympathy. “I understand. You probably need a drink. Want a lift to the bar?”

D
ISORIENTATION LEFT
Ulrika's head fuzzy as she lay on the table. She tugged on her wrist restraints, feeling the burn of panic spread from her gut to the rest of her body. She'd allowed Trance to do this, but she wasn't sure why. Her inner wolf was pissed as hell, was clawing at the inside of her skin so ferociously that she could practically feel her control start to shred.

She must have fallen asleep or hit her head or something, because she remembered him saying some strange things about a picnic and a purple-haired woman, and dear God, had she really called him
Sir?

“Trance, you have to let me go.”

He trailed a finger down her arm. “Let's lay down the rules now. From this point on, I don't respond to anything but
Sir.”

A low growl slipped out before she could stop it.

“I'm not going to hurt you.” His voice was soft and soothing. “And I won't let anyone else hurt you. Do you believe me?”

She wanted to. God, she wanted to put her trust in him, to let someone else shoulder her burdens. Closing her eyes, she lay there, concentrating on her breathing.

“Let me go,” she repeated, but with less conviction than last time.

“I didn't hurt you when you chained yourself at your apartment. I won't hurt you now. I only want to help you. Like you helped me.”

Her eyes popped open. “I haven't helped you. I've put you in danger—”

“No.” He pressed one finger to her lips. “I'm more a danger to myself than anyone else can be. No one has ever been able to do to me what you have. No one has forced me to control myself as much. And sure as shit, no one has known my secret and actually wanted me to lose control.”

“It… it was my job.”

“Tell yourself that all you want, but I know the truth.” He grasped her hand and squeezed it gently. “There's something special about you.”

She stiffened and then relaxed, because there was no way he could know how
special
she was. “I'm nothing. Nothing at all.”

“Which is why some crazy, supersecret agency wants you. Because you're nothing.” His voice held an underlying tone of don't-lie-to-me that at once chafed and made her feel guilty. “Why did you chain yourself up, by the way, if you're nothing?”

“I told you. My temper.”

“Right. Your
temper.”
He shook his head. “There's something you're not telling me.” He dragged his warm palm down her arm, leaving behind pleasant tingles in its wake. “But I get it. You don't trust me yet. We'll work up to that.”

She bucked when his hand skimmed over her breast. It felt good, too good, and it wasn't something she was used to.
She
determined who touched her, and when, and where. “I've changed my mind.”

He paused, scrubbed a hand over his face, where a five o'clock shadow had darkened his skin, creating harsh planes across his angular jaw. “You think I'll hurt you? Be honest.”

“No,” she said, surprising herself by meaning it.

“No?”

No, Sir
. She pulled in a ragged breath. She knew what he wanted, and crazily, she felt the need to give it to him. In the time she'd been doing the Dom thing, it hadn't been for the usual reasons, for the usual relationships. It had been because the beast liked the control. But she knew how it was supposed to work for a lot of people, knew the desire to please, and therefore be pleased, was a driving force. As a Dom, she'd fed off that. Now she wanted to give him something back. But to take that step…