Blaze (22 page)

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Authors: Joan Swan

BOOK: Blaze
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Alyssa scribbled numbers on a piece of paper as Mitch read them from each microchip. Her gaze flicked between the images and the numbers. “They're arranged in a numerical pattern. The shape of a star where the points are multiples of three.”
Mitch's head tilted. “Your brain is so twisted, Lys. How you can see shit like that is beyond me.”
She looked at him and fingered her earlobe. “Maybe I'll bypass that college fund for now. She's only seven and I could use a pair of diamond earrings.”
“Just write down anything else you know about the implants—what they're used for, what they're being researched for, what type of companies manufacture them and possibilities of what they might be called, like implants, brain-computer interfaces, whatever.” Mitch plopped the magnifying glass back on the desk with a clunk. “If you're getting diamond earrings, you're going to earn them.”
 
Luke still sat on the arm of the loveseat, not quite sure of his next move. Mitch had bailed after he'd taken the information on the implants with mutterings of research. Alyssa and Teague had gone to make sure both Kat and Mateo were safely tucked into Kat's bed before they turned in themselves. And Luke was alone with Keira, who was still strung so tight he could have plucked an E note off her.
He'd been contemplating asking for a haircut. Not only did he need one, but she wanted him to have one, and, as an added benefit, he'd get to feel her hands on him. But in her current state of mind, the thought of her having sharp instruments near his head—not appealing. Besides, it was nearing five a.m. and they both needed at least a few hours of sleep.
“We're still in America, right?” Keira planted her fists on the desk ledge in front of the computer screens,. “Liberty and justice for all? One land under God and all that?”
Luke didn't respond, giving her time to vent. In the meantime he soaked in the sight of her—the toned muscle shaping her tan arms. The way her shoulders sloped to a sleekly tapered back and waist. His gaze dropped to her ass, the curves outlined seductively by the ultrathin silk pajama bottoms . . .
His eyes jumped back to the waistband. To something peeking over the edge, something black and lacy. Not underwear, 'cause she sure as hell wasn't wearing any. Was that a . . .
tattoo
?
Her head came up and she straightened from the desk, quick, defensive.
Before she could turn, Luke planted his hands on her hips. “What is this?”
Her fingers closed over his and pushed, but she wasn't trying to get away. Not really. If she wanted to kick his ass, she certainly had the ability.
He pushed against her grip and shoved her tank higher, her pants lower, to reveal what was indeed a tattoo. An intricate, artistic, truly stunning tattoo. One that followed the lines of her scar, the one she'd developed after the warehouse fire. One every member of the team shared in different sizes and in different locations on their bodies. Hers encompassed the width of her hips, extended downward in the shape of a V toward her ass.
“Damn, Keira.” He couldn't keep the shock from his voice. He continued to nudge her clothes until he'd exposed the majority of the artwork along with a very sexy portion of her body, complete with twin dimples at the base of her spine. “When did you do this?”
“Luke . . .” Her voice came out a little breathless as she pried at his fingers.
“When?” He held tighter, his fingers indenting the firm flesh of her hips. “Why?”
“About a year ago.” She finally put effort behind her attempts at release and broke his grip. “Because I decided it was time to accept my abilities instead of fight them.”
His blood pulsed as she turned to face him. But her statement lit a fuse of hope somewhere inside. If she could recognize, fight, and win a battle of that magnitude within herself, maybe . . . maybe she could do it again.
“It's . . . amazing.” His gaze skimmed up the front of her body, over the swell of her breasts cradled tight in the cross of her arms, and stopped at the spark of those blue eyes. “That's not . . . something I ever thought you'd do.”
“What? The tattoo or accepting my abilities?”
“Either, I guess.”
“Yeah, well . . .” She dropped her arms and stood tall, chin proud. “I'm not the same person you knew three years ago.”
No. Not the person he'd known three years ago when she'd left, or five years ago when they'd first dated, or seven years ago when he'd first set eyes on her in passing at a firefighter class.
He was uncovering slivers he hadn't even known existed. Fascinating new shiny slivers. And he wanted to explore every last one. But he found himself in this never-ending spiral where she blocked him because she didn't trust, and she didn't trust because she blocked him.
She flicked her wrist and the scissors flashed in the light. “Do you want a haircut or not? I won't give you a Mohawk, for God's sake.”
“I'm more concerned about losing an ear.”
“Eh.” Keira shrugged. “You've got another one.”
Luke studied the chair and debated. Maybe, if she was touching him, he could hear her. Or project. Maybe, he could soften her a little, get her to talk, get her to listen.
Worth a shot. Not talking, or rather—fighting—sure wasn't working for them. He threw one leg over the chair and dropped in. Crossing his arms over the back, he rested his chin on his forearms and emptied his mind.
She squirted him down, and he flinched against the cold spray. While she swept the comb through his dripping hair, he tuned into her, reached out with his mind, searching, but all he got back was a low, vibrating hum.
“When are you going to call your boss?” he asked, his voice muffled against his arms. “And what are you going to say?”
She sidled up alongside him until her leg brushed his thigh and hip, reaching in to comb strands into her fingers with one hand and snip with the other. When she'd finished cutting and started combing again, Luke lifted his head and rested his chin on his arms so he could see her, watch her move.
“In a few hours, when he's back in the office. But I'm not sure what I'll say. If he's involved in this, I'm screwed. He could bury me if he wanted to. Now would be the time to cut me off at the knees, now that I know about Mateo, about Rostov, about the ranch, and the chemicals. We're one very big step closer to the truth. They aren't going to let that slide.”
“What are you going to do if that happens?”
“I guess I'll hire a good shark to cajole, manipulate, and blackmail. Then think about another damn career move. ATF hiring?”
Luke chuckled.
As Keira moved behind him, Luke closed his eyes and simply focused on the feel of her hands. The way her strong fingers massaged his scalp and tugged at his hair. The same as when they used to make love.
“Luke,” she warned. “If you want a lousy cut, keep it up.”
His mouth turned in triumph. “I'm a guest in your mind again? You've been blocking me for hours.”
“I still would be, but I just don't have the strength right now. Besides, it's not that easy. Unfortunately.”
She continued to move around him, swaying to one side, leaning to the other, comb, snip, comb, snip. She swept her hand over his shoulder, across his forehead. He could sit here forever like this, with her body heat circling him, her fresh scent toying with his senses. His world felt so right, so complete when she was within reach.
He opened his eyes as she stood in front of the chair, lifting her arms to reach for the top of his head. Her tank rode up her flat belly, and a flash caught his eye. One he'd never seen there before.
“Whoa.” His hands landed on her hips, thumbs pushed her cami up to reveal a diamond stud in her belly button that teased him with a wink. “Well, look at this. You are just full of sexy surprises, aren't you? How long have you had that?”
“ 'Bout two years.”
“How did I miss that last night?” he murmured, his thumb skimming across the little gem and her warm, supple belly. “I was right there.”
Her muscles tightened, and she shifted out of reach. “Preoccupied, I guess.”
“No shit.” Just the thought of how close they'd been to making love was sending him back to that preoccupied state. And his body responded just as quick. “I like it.”
The steady comb-and-snip motion of her hands faltered. “Thanks.”
“Sexy. Really freaking sexy.”
“Luke,” she warned again.
“Does Mitch know about it? About the tattoo?”
“You know he's just messing with you, right? You know there's nothing between us. He's like my . . .”
The word
brother
hung heavy in the air.
Backfire.
He'd take the perfect opening to talk about the things she'd kept from him in the past.
“Tell me about him.” He wasn't about to live with that elephant in the room. They already weren't talking about the gorilla swinging on the lamp or the giraffe chewing ficus leaves by the fireplace. “Your brother.”
She groaned. “I don't—”
“What was his name?”
She hesitated. Sighed. “Cash. His name was Cash.”
“Cash and Keira. That's cute.”
“I guess.” She picked up the water bottle and resprayed his hair. “Though our life wasn't the least bit cute.”
It seemed so odd now how little he knew of Keira's childhood. Yes, they'd been coworkers, friends. Lovers. But that had been during a beautiful time in their lives when the past didn't matter and their futures were light-years away.
A time when they lived in the excitement of the moment. When their companions were the fellow firefighters they loved and admired, their jobs exciting and rewarding and downright freaking fun, their off-duty hours spent at pubs, family barbecues, and inter-agency softball tournaments.
Once Keira and Luke got together, they'd spent their days putting out flames in the field and their nights lighting them up in the bedroom. It had been a perfect life. One Luke had started to believe would last until death did they part.
The warehouse fire changed everything.
Now, he wanted to know the woman he should have known back then, who she'd become in the years they'd been apart, and who she'd been before he'd met her.
The tunnel, her thoughts, and fears filled his mind again. But he'd be lucky to get her to stick to the subject of her brother tonight. He had a feeling they'd be taking baby steps fleshing out her past.
“Turn around,” she said. “Look up at me.”
He turned on the chair and tilted his head back. Her fingers skimmed through his hair, testing the length. Not yet satisfied, she started combing and snipping again.
“How did the fire start?” Luke asked, watching those perfect, unbound breasts jiggle beneath the thin cotton top, nipples tight.
She moved to his right, leaned in, her belly pressing his upper arm. All his attention slid in that direction. “Stupid. Little kitchen fire.”
A little kitchen fire didn't kill people. Luke looked up. When she didn't meet his gaze, he stilled her hands with his. “What happened?”
She waved the comb in frustration and broke from his grasp. “It caught. Blew up. I got out; my brother didn't. End of story.”
Luke knew Keira hadn't known her father. Remembered she had once said she doubted her mother had even known her father. But then changed the subject and veered away from it every time it came up again. “What about your mother?”
“She got out, too,” she muttered with a clear
piece-of-shit
tone. “Unfortunately.”
“But I thought you told me she was dead.”
“She is. Points for God on that score. She died in prison.”
“Prison?”
The word came out with candid shock.
Keira laughed, the sound dry and harsh. “Not so sorry you got rid of me now, are you?”
He ignored her jibe. “Why was she in prison?”
“Because her drunken temper turned that tiny fire into an inferno, burned down the house, and killed my brother. I have no doubt she's rotting in hell, right where she belongs.”
The air rushed out of Luke's lungs. With that kind of baggage, it was no wonder Keira had mother issues.
I cared about Kat. I tried to be what she needed . . . I tried to be what
you
needed . . .
Keira's words spiked through his heart. Luke could imagine how Keira had internalized Kat's inconsolable grief at losing both her mother and Teague. Blamed it on her lack of maternal skills or genes or whatever, although she never once complained, never once pushed Kat away, never once confessed her fears. And Luke had been oblivious.

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