Mercy Burns (11 page)

His gaze met mine again, the dark depths of his eyes contemplative. “You seem to have formed a very quick opinion of someone you don’t really know.”

My smile held a bitter edge. “You have to where I come from. It can be the difference between gaining new scars or not.”

One dark eyebrow winged upward. “Surely a pretty woman like you wouldn’t have that many scars.”

I snorted softly. Death obviously needed glasses. I might be many things, but pretty wasn’t one of them.
Not
that I considered myself ugly. Just plain. Very plain. A brown dragon who couldn’t shift shape in a world filled with beasts who could shimmer and fly. “I’ve more scars than I have fingers.”

He frowned. “I saw the one on your forehead. What happened there?”

I reached up and touched the rapidly fading scar. “That one was courtesy of a recent run-in with a truck. The others were courtesy of my clique.”

“What in the hell goes on in your clique?”

There was an edge to his voice that had my eyebrows rising. It wasn’t concern, but it seemed very close to it, which was odd.

“Nothing much different from many others, I suspect.” I crossed my arms and looked out the window again. “Where the hell are we going?”

“Back to your brother’s place. You need to get some things together, then get the hell away from there.”

“I don’t really think—”

“Yeah, we discovered that.”

Annoyance flowed through me again. “You have a smart mouth for someone who was close to hibernation last night.”

“Good point.” He slowed the car as the lights ahead changed to red, then said, “Why were you coming to see me?”

I don’t really know
. But I couldn’t admit that—or rather, I wouldn’t. I didn’t want to appear indecisive. Why, I had no idea. I mean, he was a stranger, and a
rather odd one at that. “I want to know who those men were. I want to know who is pulling their strings.”

“And why would you think I’d know?”

“You know a hell of a lot more than you’re admitting, so enough of the games, Damon. I need to know what’s going on.”

He considered me briefly, then said, “Why is knowing so important to you?”

I hesitated, torn between the need to trust someone and a past that suggested men like him could never be counted on. “I’m a reporter.”

I didn’t need to see his grimace to feel the sweep of his disdain. “And you think you’re on the trail of an award-winning story? Lady, you have no idea.”

“If you keep saying that, I just might think you mean it.” I kept my voice deliberately light, masking both my growing irritation and perhaps a little hurt, which was stupid. Why should the opinion of this man carry so much weight? Why would I even let it?

“This is not something you should be sticking your pretty little nose into.” His voice was as cold as the look he cast my way. “These men are dangerous.
I’m
dangerous. You’d best get well away from us all.”

“Thanks for the warning but I’m afraid I can’t oblige.” I hesitated, then added softly, “There’s someone I need to save. To do that, I need answers.”

He didn’t reply, but his disapproval continued to sting the air. I stared out the windows. Obviously, this man had no intention of helping me out. I was stupid to think he ever would.

He turned right onto another street, slowing down as he slotted into the unusually heavy traffic. I realized we were about to pass
my
apartment and shifted to
look out the window. Would any of the guards from last night be lurking around the front of the building? They had my driver’s license, after all, so they knew where I lived.

I didn’t see the guards. What I
did
see was flashing lights and dark plumes of smoke.

My apartment building was on fire.

Fire engines blocked the road ahead, and thick sprays of water were being directed up high. People huddled farther down the road, some crying, some wrapped in blankets, all of them looking shocked. Some of those faces I knew—my elderly neighbors. At least they’d gotten out. I hoped everyone else had, too.

My gaze went back to the flames leaping out high above from the top-floor windows.

My floor.

And it was a big fire—maybe too big. Had I been there, I might have been dead. I wasn’t, so I guess I had to be grateful for that. But everything would be gone.

Everything
.

All the photos, all the little bits and pieces that I’d gathered over the years. Little things that had no value and wouldn’t mean much to anyone else, but to me they were reminders of good times—and there’d been few enough of those in my childhood.

Tears stung my eyes, and I clenched my fists against the urge to jump out of the car and race to the fire, to save something, anything, of my life and my past. But the flames were just too fierce and there were far too many firemen and cops. I’d never even get near the building, let alone close enough to suck in all that heat and fire in an attempt to quell it.

God, these bastards just kept destroying things I
loved. It had to stop—and
before
I didn’t have anything left to destroy.

Of course, it was always possible the fire might have been accidental, but even as the thought crossed my mind, I dismissed it. What were the odds of an accidental fire happening days after Rainey being killed and me being kidnapped?

I swiped at my eyes, then muttered, “I think I need cake. Thick, gooey chocolate cake.”

“What, now? Why?” Damon said, confusion evident in his voice as he eased the car’s speed.

“Because chocolate cake is a perfect pick-me-up when life decides to deal you one of those nasty little surprises.” My voice broke a little, and I took a deep, shuddering breath before adding, “That’s my building on fire.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, then shook his head. “It’s probably not a coincidence,” he said softly. “First the bar, and now your place. It would seem one of our kidnappers is something of an arsonist.”

“So you think it was one of the guards who set the bar on fire?” My gaze was dragged from the blaze as a police officer directed us down a side street. In some ways it was a relief. If I couldn’t see the flames, maybe I wouldn’t think about the destruction they’d wreaked on my life. Not until I lay down to sleep, anyway.

“The bartender was one of the men who questioned me when they had me locked up. I recognized his voice.”

“Well, that explains how I got snatched.” And proved my instincts had been right. Shame I hadn’t listened to them and got the hell out of there while I still
could. “I was in that bar meeting Angus when I was drugged. He was the one who took me to that house.”

“Angus?”

“A sea dragon.” I hesitated. “I got a feeling he’s working for them unwillingly.”

“You do make the oddest judgments about people you’ve barely met, don’t you?”

“You learn to judge very quickly when it means avoiding another scar.”

He frowned. “That’s the second time you’ve said that. Why on earth would anyone want to scar you?”

“Because of what I am.” Because they could. “So you
did
go back to the bar last night?”

Damon’s sudden smile was something I felt rather than saw, but it was a cold thing that sent goose bumps across my skin.

“Yes.”

“How? I mean, you might have stolen heat, but you weren’t exactly a powerhouse of energy when you left me.”

“Perhaps not, but like the other two guards, the bartender kindly decided to loan me his heat.”

“And did he survive the encounter?”

“He was weak, but alive—and the bar intact—when I left.” Damon shrugged, a movement that was surprisingly eloquent. “I was hoping he’d lead me back to his master’s lair sometime over the next few days.”

“So you merely put the fear of God into him while firing up the furnaces?”

“More like the fear of death.” He met my gaze in the mirror again, a slight frown creasing his brow. “The only one who doesn’t seem to be afraid of me is you.”

“That’s because I have no sense.”

A smile twitched his lips again. I pulled my gaze away and tried to think sensible thoughts rather than what I’d really like to do to those lips. “The cops must have found you pretty quickly—which means those men could have, too.”

“I’m a little smarter than that.” The look he cast my way reminded me that
I
hadn’t been. “When I heard on the news that the cops were looking for a man fitting my description, I turned myself in. We talked, then they let me go.” He paused, and swung the car around another corner. “You don’t give up until you get your answers, do you?”

“It’s the reporter in me.”

“Or your naturally stubborn nature.”

“That, too.”

He swung onto another street. “With the bar torched, and the bartender dead, I had intended to keep an eye on my hotel and follow any watchers to their source. That plan got a little sidetracked.”

“Yeah, sorry about that.” Though I wasn’t. Not entirely. At least I’d gotten to talk to him again, even if he hadn’t provided any real information.

He turned right again, and my brother’s apartment came into sight.

Only it was on fire as well.

A
nything else I can help you with?” the waiter said, a too-cheery smile plastered on his face as he placed the rich-looking cake on the table.

“No, thanks,” Damon said, a touch impatiently. When the waiter left, he looked at me. His dark eyes were filled with a sympathy that was just about my undoing. “Are you okay?”

I nodded and wrapped my hands around my coffee. It didn’t do a lot to ease the chill.

“It’s losing all the little things that hurts the most,” I whispered. “All the photos, the knickknacks that wouldn’t mean much to anyone else—”

My voice broke, and I stopped.
No thinking
, I told myself fiercely.
No feeling. Shove everything back into its box and deal with it later
.

“What I don’t get,” I added, once I had everything under some semblance of control again, “is why they’d want to burn down both apartments.”

Damon’s expression suggested he wasn’t exactly buying the act, but he didn’t say anything, instead grabbing several sugar packets and tearing off their tops before pouring them into his black coffee. “There could be a number of reasons.”

“Like what?”

“Like wanting to destroy any evidence you might have collected. Or ensuring you had nowhere to run.” He shrugged and picked up his mug. “Or maybe it’s simply a warning.”

“What, stay away or they’ll burn me to death?”

Even half-breeds like me were hard to destroy with flames alone. Fire was part of our soul, and it was in our nature to be able to control it—whatever the source. This wasn’t to say mistakes didn’t happen, or that we could control every single fire we came across—especially if they were as large as the one currently destroying my apartment—but such things were rare.

His gaze met mine, dark eyes somber. “I think you’ll find it’s more a ‘Stay away, or we’ll completely destroy everything in your life.’ ”

I steeled my mind against the thought that they already had, and tried to ignore the cold tremor that ran deep through my soul. “There isn’t a whole lot more in my life that these men
can
destroy.”

I hoped that by saying that, I hadn’t jinxed myself—or the people I cared about.

“At least you still have your
life
. As does your brother.” He hesitated. “Where is he? Perhaps you should warn him.”

“He’s away on business. But trust me, they wouldn’t want to tackle him anyway.” Unlike me, he wouldn’t be an easy target.

“These men have killed to keep their secrets, Mercy. Don’t doubt that they will kill you, or your brother, or anyone else who happens to get in their way.”

He wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t already know. I took a sip of coffee, but it didn’t do a whole lot to chase off the chill. “So why didn’t they kill you?”

He raised an eyebrow. “For the same reason they didn’t kill you. They wanted information.”

“The difference between us is the fact I don’t know anything.” And yet I’d recognized the voice talking to Angus on the phone, and if his comment about the steel room bringing back delicious memories was anything to go by, he’d obviously known me. So, was this more than what it seemed? Was a grudge behind the initial attack? Or was the chance to make good on a grudge just a bonus?

Maybe the information I needed was somewhere in the mists of my mind—I just had to remember it. Which was easier said than done when I’d spent the last ten years trying to
forget
. “You, on the other hand, know a whole lot of something.”

“If I knew as much as you seem to think, those men wouldn’t still be out there.”

Because he would have killed them. I shivered, then reached for a fork. Maybe some chocolate cake would help make the situation feel less dire.

“So what’s our next step?” I said around a mouthful of the deliciously gooey cake.

“
Your
next step is to be sensible and get the hell out of here.”

I didn’t answer immediately, concentrating on the chocolaty goodness instead. “You’re a smart man, so
you can probably guess my response to
that
particular suggestion.”

He leaned back in his chair, his expression so cold the chill of it ran down my spine.
Scary
didn’t even begin to describe his countenance right now. “You really
don’t
have any common sense, do you?”

Anger swirled again—a firestorm that rippled across my skin, making the shadows in which we sat briefly flame to life.

His gaze flickered to my arms then swept past me, studying the half-empty restaurant.

“Careful,” he murmured. “We don’t need to be attracting attention right now.”

“I realize that,” I snapped, drawing the heat back in, letting it burn deep in my soul instead. “I’m not stupid, no matter what you might think.”

“I didn’t—”

“No, you just figure I’m a silly little reporter who has no idea what she’s really getting into.”

“And do you?”

“I’ve seen the towns and I’ve talked to Angus. I
know.
” My voice burned with a fury that wasn’t particularly aimed at him, but at fate itself. Just this once, I’d have liked to break through one of those damn walls between me and any useful information. Just once, I’d have liked to
learn
something rather than ending up empty-handed again. Damn it, I didn’t have the time to be running around in useless circles. “I’m not going to let you browbeat me into walking away, Damon. I
can’t.
”