Taming the Fire (36 page)

“I'm Dev.”

“It's, um, good to meet you.”

“Are you settling in? Comfortable?”

She nodded. “The quarters are very nice. Trance was right, my room is much better than a cage.”

Sympathy flashed in his brown eyes, and she instantly regretted the cage comment. She didn't want anyone feeling sorry for her. Especially not now, when she was starting a new life that made her past grow more distant with each passing day.

Trance had a lot to do with that, and she had to bite back a smile when she thought about how he'd been making sure every minute of her day was full of either training or him. He wanted her to have no time to dwell on the past, and he'd been doing a damned fine job of ushering her into the future.

“Neema explained why you're here?”

“She said you won't force me to do anything I don't want to do.”

Dev leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “You sound like you don't believe that.”

“I'm not sure what to believe,” she admitted. “If I don't want to kill people, then what will you do with me?”

“I'm sure we'll find something for you. The cryptozoology department is dying to acquire you.”

Her blood ran cold as images of being strapped down to a table and poked and prodded flooded her brain. “Why?”

“To help find other cryptids. You're the only known shape-shifter. They'd love to use any of your special abilities to seek out all the creatures they are looking for.”

“Oh.” She relaxed, because that sounded really interesting. And nonviolent.

He considered her for a long moment, and she suddenly wondered what his talent was, because she got the distinct impression he was attempting to read her mind. “How are you doing? Kira said she's still having a hard time reaching your other half, but that it's calmer now.”

She smiled. “Cujo.”

Dev blinked. “Excuse me?”

“That's what Trance calls her. Cujo.”

“Ah… do you know what Cujo is?”

“He said it's some sort of rabid dog from a horror novel.” She shrugged. “I didn't get to read a lot when I was with Itor.”

“Trance has an interesting sense of humor,” Dev muttered. “In any case, your… Cujo is calmer?”

“Much. She still doesn't like any man but Trance, but at least she doesn't go nuts around them anymore.” Like now. The wolf was wary, sort of pacing, but she wasn't all hackles-raised.

“Good.” Dev gave a single, brisk nod. “Then are you up for a little work?”

And there went the hackles. “What kind of work?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

He held up his hands. “Nothing dangerous.” He pushed a fat book across the desk at her.

“What's that?” She reached for the book.

“It's a photo file of all operatives who have gone missing or turned up dead under mysterious circumstances.”

Rik drew her hand back so fast she bumped her elbow on the arm of her chair. “Why are you showing me this?”

“We need closure. I'm sorry, Rik, but we do this every time we recruit someone who might have come up against us in the past. We need to know what happened to these agents. They deserve that.” He gestured to the book. “Please. If you know something about any of these agents, tell me. We're not looking for revenge. Just the truth.”

Her stomach churned so violently she looked around the office for a garbage can in case she had to throw up. She knew she'd killed one agent, but she suspected that there may have been others. Itor hadn't always told her who her targets were.

Finally, she reached for the photo album again. Heart pounding, she flipped it open. First page, a female she didn't recognize. Second page, male, same thing. And on and on.

Until page twenty. As if a nightmare had come to life, she saw the face of the agent she'd killed in Ecuador. Excedosapien. Arthur Scott. Handsome, with eyes that appeared familiar. Probably because she'd seen them up close when she'd buried the knife between his ribs.

Closing her eyes, she nodded. She heard a scratch of pencil on paper, and then Dev's calm voice, urging her to go on.

Her mouth was dry as she continued. Thank God she didn't find any more, but still, the one was one too many.

“Just the one,” she breathed, as she closed the book. When she glanced at Dev, she saw in his eyes that she hadn't surprised him. “You knew.”

“I suspected. We thought wild animals… but once we heard about you…” He trailed off, and mercifully didn't continue. But he also seemed to be looking inward, to a place she couldn't follow, and she was very glad of that.

Because he seemed to be very, very troubled.

“I'm sorry.” Her voice was raspy and shaky, and she just wanted to slink away. But what she wanted even more right now was Trance. She'd give anything to have him swoop in and whisk her to someplace where only the two of them existed.

Dev came to his feet and moved to the door. “It's been good talking to you,” he said, a dismissal if she'd ever heard one.

She stood. “I really am sorry.”

“I know.” He opened the door. “I'll be checking in with you every couple of weeks, just to monitor your progress. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask. Neema or Kira can help you out.” He pegged her with a somber stare. “We'll take care of you, Ulrika.”

Strangely, she believed him.

D
EV WAITED UNTIL
Rik left his office before he buried his face in his hands. Elbows propped on the desk in front of him, he shielded his eyes from his surroundings and let his mind run wild.

You knew… what the hell were you trying to do, prove yourself wrong?

Yes, in this situation, he would actually enjoy being wrong.

There were so many secrets he'd kept—for the good of his agents, for the good of ACRO…

Now one of those secrets could potentially have a devastating impact on one of them. And one of them already did.

Fuck. Just
fuck.

She'd been the one to take away the man who might've helped Trance come to terms with what he was sooner rather than later. She'd killed his father and now…

Christ, it didn't take a genius, or a psychic, to figure out that Rik was falling for Trance. Dev had never expected Trance to follow suit, but based on the way Rik talked about him, he was pretty sure Trance was just as enamored with her.

He thought about only sending same-sex agents on missions from now on, and realized, with a sharp, barking laugh, that that wouldn't have stopped
him
.

No, he was failing everyone, including a young man who refused to think that Dev wasn't wide open to the prospect of falling in love. A man who currently stood in the doorway of Dev's office, even though it was long after hours and everyone, including Marlena, had already gone home.

And then he remembered that Marlena didn't work for him any longer—not on a personal level anyway. She'd slipped away from him, insisting he had to let her grow and make her own mistakes.

God, he hated himself for agreeing to let her go to the Seducers.

“You shouldn't be here,” he told Gabe harshly.

“I work here,” Gabriel returned. “What's wrong?”

“I just have a headache.” He pushed his paperwork to the side and shut down his computer. For the first time in a long time, he didn't want to stay in the office all night, wanted Gabriel to drag him away from all of this shit and take him home.

Gabe approached the desk and leaned over it, palms flat on the mahogany, face close to Dev's. “What else is wrong?”

“I can't tell you.”

“Then who can you tell? Who do you talk to, Devlin?”

The way the man said his name… Christ. “It's a lonely job, being the boss.”

The younger man shook his head slowly. “No, it's a lonely job being Devlin O'Malley.”

“Gabriel…”

But Gabriel covered his mouth with a kiss, a long, hard, hot kiss that sucked the breath and the need for conversation away.

Dev had wanted to say,
You can't heal me
, but Gabriel seemed intent on doing so anyway. And after a while, Dev wasn't so sure of anything anymore.

D
EVLIN HADN'T BEEN
lying when he'd told Gabriel the other night that what was happening between them was for a bigger purpose. But still, he'd felt a heavy guilt about sleeping next to Gabriel. About enjoying having another man there and about feeling that thrill of excitement when you didn't know what would happen next, but you knew you were happy.

Dev had felt it the first time he'd met Oz. And then each and every time they'd gotten together beyond that.

“It's been a long road, Oz,” he said as he stared out the front windows to the dawn that was just breaking. He'd left Gabriel upstairs, sound asleep, and Dev was actually thinking of cooking him breakfast.

He went to turn away, but a flash of blue brought his gaze back to the window. He rubbed his eyes. It was still there. With a pounding heart, he tore outside.

Oz's old blue convertible was parked in his driveway, rather than across the street, and Dev was pretty sure that the car would disappear the moment he approached it.

But it didn't, and he felt a strange flutter when he peered through the driver's-side window and found the seat empty. Hesitantly, he opened the door and climbed behind the wheel. The seat was cool and the keys were in the ignition.

They'd made some good memories in this car.

It was nice to be able to smile when he thought about Oz—to not be mired in grief any longer. To be grateful for what had been.

Oz had saved his life—more than once—and he was doing it again in the form of a young man currently sleeping in Dev's bedroom. The master bedroom, not the guest one.

It was time to get back to Gabriel.

He saw the note at the last minute—scrawled in black ink across a piece of paper. Oz's writing.

It was always meant to be this way. I'm not doing anything that wasn't planned for you on the day you were born
.

—
O

P.S. Could you make sure Trance gets this car? It's the same make and model Arthur used to drive when he was dating Trance's mom
.

It wouldn't make up for a lost relationship between Trance and his father, but it was something. A tie to his past. Dev knew, with certainty, how important that was. And so he looked up at the sky and he mouthed a silent
Thank you
.

His own ties would always be there, but loose enough to let him be happy again. It was time.

A
FTER THE PRIVATE
jet took them from ACRO to ML's estate in Florida, Meg slept for what seemed like twenty-four hours straight. It might've been too, and she really didn't care. She stayed in bed with the blinds pulled and left her computer dark, until finally ML insisted she eat something. He even sent in one of his staff with a tray of her favorite foods—surf and turf and French fries—to tempt her.

It didn't, but she did get out of bed and opened her computer. The familiar feel of her fingertips on the keyboard comforted her and within twenty minutes, she was actually eating in between typing.

Until Ryan popped up on her IM screen. The fork fell from her hand, clattered on the plate and might've ended up somewhere on the floor. She didn't know, didn't care—closed her IM screen and shoved the computer away from her.

“Hey, sis, can I come in?”

She looked up at her brother, dressed in his usual Hawaiian shirt and long shorts, his blond hair loose. A surfer-dude, money-laundering millionaire who still harbored a heartbreak from when he was seventeen years old. “Why haven't you gotten over Rebecca yet?”

He avoided the question about his ex-girlfriend, which told her everything she needed to know. “I knew Ryan screwed with you.”

“That's not an answer, Mose,” she said as her brother made himself comfortable on the empty side of the king-sized bed. She shifted so he couldn't see her computer, since Ryan's name kept popping up on-screen, asking to speak with her. “I was there when you were waiting for Rebecca. When she didn't meet you—”

“It pretty much sucked.”

“Mose, please.”

He sighed. “Yeah, look, she broke my heart. I'd like to think I'm over it, but, man… she promised. And she broke that promise. I'm over her, just not what she did—all right?”

“It's just like what that guy did to Mary. Promised her the world and then left her in the hospital to die alone,” she said bitterly, noted that Mose's hands fisted.

“Did Ryan promise you things?”

She could only nod.

“You should've let me kill him back at ACRO.”

“Maybe.” She shut the computer's lid. “I don't want to steal anymore.”

Her brother looked stricken. “You're going straight?”

“Don't worry, I won't try to convert you.”

“Will you stay here with me, at least until Interpol gets off your back?” The concern in his voice matched his expression.

“I've got no place else to go. So yes, I'm yours.”