Phoenix Rising

by Corrina Lawson

  He leaned back, grinning. Sweat was running down his back. He couldn’t have driven more than a few hundred yards. It felt like he’d been in a real NASCAR race. This was nothing like the video game. It was better.

  “Put the car in park, put the emergency brake on, turn off the ignition and take out the key.”

  He moved the stick to park. “So, where’s the emergency brake?”

  She tapped the lever between the seats. “Press the button and pull it up.”

  He did and was greeted with a grinding noise. “Is it supposed to do that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay.” He turned the ignition and took out the keys. The engine died.

  He got out of the car, tossed the keys in the air and caught them again. Probably dancing was overdoing it.

  “Next time,” he said when she climbed out, “we go faster.”

  He was certain that he wanted there to be a next time, and not just with the car.

  Chapter Ten

  Beth opened the trunk to get the bags. “You really didn’t see anyone that alarmed you in Wal-Mart?”

  “No. But you’re right, Lansing will come looking for me. Hell, I should call him except that I’m useless in a fight right now. Even if they find Demeter, I can’t do a damn thing about it.” He picked up several bags from the trunk. “If you’re worried that I’m going to do something behind your back, you could always lock yourself in the basement or call your mysterious CIA friend to watch over you.”

  She turned, her face lost in shadow in the twilight, her hands full of grocery bags.

  “It’s not that I don’t want to tell you about my friend. It’s that I can’t break a confidence. But he’s not an enemy, Alec.”

  “Is this guy your boyfriend?”

  She opened the door, the bags still in her hand. “No, he’s my foster father.”

  “Ah.” Good. Wait. “Your foster father is a CIA agent?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “We have peace and quiet and time.”

  She opened the front door. “That’s all I can tell you. Anything else would endanger him.”

  A CIA foster father. Huh. It did explain why she had CIA connections, perhaps why she’d been approved by the CIA to go into the Resource.

  But it also meant that she still hadn’t told him everything.

  She put the food away in the cabinets. The sea breeze blew through the open window, bringing the sound of surf against rock. He’d never heard that exact sound before, never knew it existed.

  She tapped him on the shoulder. “Want to help cook?”

  Cook?

  She pointed to a cartoon of eggs and a gallon of milk on the counter.

  “Okay.”

  She gathered a glass bowl, a fork and a pan from underneath the stove. He peered over her shoulder as she turned the burner knobs. How did you cook eggs if you weren’t a fire starter? At medium heat, apparently.

  “I’m guessing you haven’t spent much time in the kitchen.”

  “Lansing has a kitchen in his penthouse, where I lived until I was eleven. But a cook prepared all the food. I wasn’t allowed anywhere near it.”

  “Bet you snuck food anyway.”

  Alec frowned. “No. That would have been very bad manners.”

  “Ah.” She broke an egg open, neatly dropping the runny yolk and white into the bowl. She threw the broken shell into the garbage under the sink.

  “Why are you breaking the yolks?”

  “How do you usually cook them?”

  “I don’t cook them. But I usually get them served poached on English muffins with sauce.”

  “You usually have eggs Benedict?”

  “Sure, especially when I have brunch with Lansing.”

  “This is going to be a lot less formal than a dinner with Lansing.”

  “You mean like with F-Team. They use the microwaves in the rec room a lot. Sometimes I cook eggs for them in my hands.”

  “Really?” She put down the egg she’d been holding and gave him her full attention. “How long does it take to cook one in your hand?”

  “About one minute. I don’t have to make the fire that hot either. But you can’t eat it right away because it has to cool. I burned my mouth the first time.”

  “It takes practice this way too. Here.” She handed him an egg. “Break it and add it to the bowl.”

  “No problem.” He knocked the egg against the side of the glass bowl, trying to imitate what she’d done. Instead, the eggshell shattered and the goo oozed all over his hand.

  “Ick!”

  She turned her head but it didn’t hide her smile.

  “If you think it’s funny, here, have some.” He grinned and slapped the remains of the egg all over her shirt.

  “Gah!” She jumped back.

  He shrugged and tried not to laugh. She pulled a shell fragment from her shirt and tossed it at him. He ducked, caught the shell fragment and threw it back at her. It hit her smack on the nose and she went cross-eyed just for a second, trying to find it. He laughed.

  “I win.” Damn, she looked cute all mussed up.

  She strode to the sink. Figuring she wanted to clean up, he stepped away. She took the water nozzle from the sink, aimed it at him and fired.

  “Hey!” He put up his hands to protect his face from the spray of cold water. Squinting, he stepped forward and tried to wrestle the nozzle from her. But she held on tight and the water sprayed all over both of them. He spat water out of his mouth, let go, and turned it off at the sink.

  They stood there for a few seconds, staring at each other, water dripping from them to the floor. His wet hair hung in his eyes.

  “Well,” she said, “this is not getting us food.”

  “We have cookies.”

  She laughed. Her shirt, wet with egg and water, was plastered to her body. The shirt and bra were both thin material and now sheer because of the water. He could see her nipples. He was hard in an instant.

  She kidnapped you, remember? Her foster father is a CIA spook, remember?

  But she has such cute nipples!

  She looked down at her shirt and noticed what he’d noticed. She flushed. “I need to change. I’ll be right back.”

  “I’ll be here,” he called after her.

  He used paper towels to wipe up the floor but his shirt was soaked, so he took it off and tossed it over one of the chairs.

  F-Team took him out to clubs every now and then. The girls there had been impressed with his chest. He grinned. They had been impressed enough to show him how much they liked it. He must look pretty good to regular girls too, even with clothes on, or else the Wal-Mart cashier wouldn’t have hit on him.

  He peeled off the bandages on his hands because they were soaked too. The cuts looked a lot less angry now. He flexed the fingers. No pain, either. Good.

  “Are they better?”

  Her dark hair, like his, was still damp. She’d put on a sweatshirt, hiding those nipples. Damn.

  “Yep.” Hell, he felt better. And that weird feeling inside his head seemed almost gone.

  “I’ll get you a new shirt.” Her glance slid away from his bare chest.

  “Nah, I’m fine.” Lansing would kill him if he ate dinner without a shirt on. Tough. He wanted Beth to look at him. “It’s warm in here anyway.”

  She dropped her head and shrugged. “Suit yourself.” She walked past him to wipe up the small bits of shell still on the countertop. “Well, it’s a good thing we’re having scrambled eggs.”

  “Scrambled seems appropriate for us.” He leaned on the counter to look into her face.

  “True.” She sidestepped to the right, away from him, and broke several eggs into the bowl. He watched her cook. She was so careful in her motions, very precise about even the stirring. Five clockwise strokes with the fork, five counterclockwise, then five more clockwise and so on, until she was satisfied. She liked order. In that, she was like Lansing.

  She poured the eggs in the pan. Whil
e she was distracted, he stared at the now empty bowl and the fork. Clenching his jaw, he concentrated on the fork, remembering to breathe in and out, slowly and carefully, just as he’d done when he first learned how to use his TK. When his eyes were almost cross-eyed from staring, the fork shifted about a quarter-inch to the right.

  Yes!

  He opened his mouth to shout, the elation too great to keep in.

  He didn’t make a sound.

  Beth didn’t have to know.

  He needed an edge and this was it. Besides, the TK was weak. At full strength, he’d be able to send the thing flying around the room, not slide it around a measly quarter-inch. But Beth had been right. Relaxation worked. She hadn’t taken away his fire. It was only a matter of time before full power came back.

  She turned to him. “You’re quiet. Something wrong?”

  “Nope. I’m watching you cook.” He took a few steps and peered over her shoulder at the stove. “It smells good, like breakfast at a diner.” She smelled good too. He breathed in a honeysuckle scent from her hair. “Beth?”

  “Yes?” She flipped the eggs with a spatula, ignoring him, as if he weren’t literally breathing down her neck. Well, a little higher than her neck. She was short.

  “I never cared about being stuck at the Resource before. Why not?”

  “You accepted the world around you. Most people do. And you did care. You love going out with F-Team, for instance. You craved freedom, even though you didn’t realize exactly what it was. A fish can’t envision life without water until it’s on dry land.”

  “Yeah, but then the fish dies out of water. Are you trying to kill me?”

  “I’m trying to save you.” She shook her head vehemently, as if he’d made a serious accusation. “But I agree, the analogy needs some work.”

  She scraped the eggs from the pan and divided them between two plates. She put bread in the toaster and picked up the butter from the fridge. He stepped back, watching her move around with that innate grace of hers. She still didn’t look directly at him, which said a lot about how much she wanted to look at him.

  The toast popped up. She buttered it, placed the slices on the plates and put the plates on the table. “Dinner is served.” She bowed, like a servant.

  “Awesome.”

  The eggs tasted fluffier than at the Resource. He wondered how she’d done that. Whatever it was, he gulped them down. The bread was whole grain, crunchy with a nutty taste, and was heaped with melted butter. He let it sit on his tongue, wondering why Lansing only liked white bread.

  I need to learn to cook.

  He grabbed the chocolate chip cookies while she finished her portion. Cookies tended to disappear fast in the rec room. He never got enough. He rolled the cookie crumbs around his tongue before he swallowed. He’d no idea why Lansing sneered at cookies. They were so good.

  She ate in small bites, her head mostly down. Her damp hair framed her face and hid her expression. Her table manners were formal except he caught her sneaking a look at his bare chest. He made eye contact and smiled.

  She swallowed and looked away. Her face flushed red.

  “Hey, I was staring at your breasts. It seems fair that you stare at me.” He brushed cookie crumbs off his abs.

  Her face turned beet red. She dropped her head. For someone so grown-up, she seemed shy about sex. Or, at least, talking about sex. Their kiss hadn’t been shy.

  He helped her clean the plates after dinner, brushing up against her as they loaded the dishwasher. He closed his hand over a plate at the same time she grabbed it and their fingers met.

  She froze.

  “If you haven’t noticed, counselor, I’m trying to hit on you.” He set his hand over hers. That odd tingle he’d felt at their first meeting jolted his arm, all the way up his shoulder, though it wasn’t as strong as during the kiss or as steady as it had been on the walk to the Honda when they left the Resource. His erection stirred again. Hell, it had never really left.

  She glanced down at his pants and set her mouth in a thin line. “I know you’re hitting on me, Alec. But this can’t happen.” She tried to pull her hand away.

  He held it tight.

  “You’re interested. I know you are.” The club girls had never said no. Why should they? Sex felt good.

  “It has nothing to do with that.” She sighed. “I know, I owe you an explanation. Just please let go of my hand first.”

  “Fine.” He snatched his hand away, scowling. More evasion. Was this another way to control him?

  She set the plate in the dishwasher and slammed it shut. He crossed his arms over his chest, waiting.

  She finally looked him in the eye. She had to tilt her head upward to do it. “It’s one of the basic rules of therapy not to get in a relationship with your patient. There’s too much possibility of manipulation even if the intentions are good. You’re just figuring out what you want in life. I want those choices to be yours, not mine.”

  This again, as if he were a baby. He held up his hand and started ticking off points on his fingers.

  “One, I think kidnapping violates the whole spirit of non-manipulation, so you’ve already blown it.”

  “I needed to do that to show you a new life.”

  “So you say. Two—” he took a deep breath, “—I have a mind of my own. Three, if you didn’t want to break the rule, you shouldn’t have kissed me in the first place.”

  “You kissed me,” she said, her jaw set, determined to oppose him.

  “You kissed back. Very well too.”

  “That was a mistake.” Her voice went up an octave. “I’m trying not to repeat it.”

  He took her by the shoulders. “I know you must have gotten as juiced as I did from the kiss. Hell, I bet you felt something like that just now. Don’t give me this bullshit. We’re connecting, and it’s not like any of the women at the clubs, and I like it.” He pulled her against him. “Unless this attraction is part of your manipulation or some master plan you haven’t told me about.”

  “No, of course not!”

  She put her hand on his chest, right over his heart, trying to keep them several inches apart. If she wanted to chill him out, that was a bad move because her hand felt soft and warm on his skin and only made him want her more.

  They were close enough that she must feel his erection.

  “You want me, I want you. It’s simple.” He tightened his grip on her shoulders.

  “It’s not,” she hissed the words through her teeth. “Let me go. Please. I can’t.”

  His mouth hovered over hers. He had her trapped against the counter. He had no doubt she could feel his erection. He kissed her. She didn’t respond, didn’t open her mouth, didn’t tremble and didn’t do anything similar to what she’d done the first time they kissed.

  She turned her head away.

  “Look at me,” he said in a low voice.

  She did. She took a deep breath, her mouth closed, her jaw clenched. She bent backwards to gain space between them.

  She wanted him. He knew it. She knew it. He stared into her eyes, looking for some message in them. She stared back. He could take her right here and she wouldn’t be able to stop him. She knew that too. The only power she had was what he gave her. And he was getting sick of letting her call the shots.

  She kept eye contact, still challenging him.

  He let her go.

  She backed away several steps, rubbing her shoulders, taking deep breaths. Her hands were trembling. He supposed it was possible she was right about the whole “counselor/client not getting involved” thing.

  His penis disagreed.

  His head agreed with his penis, especially now that he knew she hadn’t taken his abilities for good. He paced the kitchen. He could grab her again, overpower her, make her understand that whatever was between them was real. That would be simple. He’d show her. He stopped and turned to her.

  “Alec?”

  One word, his name, and he could hear the fear in it. She was afr
aid of him. Not because of his fire but because he’d grabbed her and she couldn’t physically stop him.

  I’m no rapist.

  “You’re wrong about us.”

  “That’s possible. But I won’t change my mind.”

  “So now what?”

  “Let me show you the computer.” She pointed to the living room. “You can surf the internet tonight. There’s a whole world out there for you. I won’t limit it. Right now, I’m your fantasy. You need reality.”

  He could look anywhere he wanted on the ’net? He was only allowed to visit preselected sites at the Resource. Lansing had blocked everything else. Beth was trying to distract him from what was going on between them.

  She’d picked a damn good distraction.

  He sighed and rolled his shoulders to ease the tension out of them. “Let me see the computer.”

  It was in the roll-top desk in the living room. She got him online and backed out of the room.

  “You’re leaving me alone?”

  “You want me, Alec, but you don’t trust me and you’re smart not to. Research on your own. Learn to trust your instincts and think for yourself.”

  “I am thinking for myself. I want you and you’re stopping it cold.”

  “That’s my choice,” she said.

  “It’s a stupid choice.”

  “That happens, sometimes.”

  “It feels like you’re making a stupid choice for both of us.” She might still be setting him up for something. He ran his fingers along the edge of the monitor, looking for a hidden webcam. He didn’t find one.

  “There are no cameras here,” she said, as if reading his mind. “Good night, Alec.”

  “Okay.” He swallowed, staring at the screen as she left the room. There’s the entire internet out there! Hey, maybe he could find porn. At least that would ease his frustration.

  A breeze came through the window, bringing the smell of the sea. He was right about their connection, therapist rules be damned. Something was going on and he bet it was related to his TK and his fire. Whatever it was, it had made her lose control once. All he had to do was find the right moment for it to happen again, and then she’d change her mind.