Shadows & Secrets (Lick of Fire Book 4)

by Jane Hinchey

  “Calm.” He muttered, loosening his grip when I finally stopped thrashing about. “Take a breath.”

  I did. I dragged in a deep gulping breath of night air. Then another. And another. My mind was whirling. What had just happened? What had I done? My demon hadn’t fully emerged but it was there, just beneath the surface, wanting more, my control on it now was fragile.

  With my eyes locked on Buchanan’s I continued to breathe, focusing on nothing more than dragging air into my lungs. I dimly registered that the knuckles on both of my hands were throbbing – I didn’t dare look. What had I done to that man?

  “Is he?” It was barely a whisper but Buchanan heard. His hand was resting on my throat, not hurting, but prepared, not willing to release me just yet.

  “He’ll be okay. He’s probably had worse, though never from a girl.” His casual shrug disarmed me. I’d just beaten a man to a pulp. Why wasn’t he…mad? Why wasn’t he arresting me?

  “You want me to?” He cocked his head, one dark brow arched. I shook my head. How was it that he always knew what I was thinking?

  “It’s a talent.”

  “Stop!” I gasped. My brain was a whirlwind of confusion. The inner battle to subdue my demon had exhausted me and I closed my eyes, letting my head thump back against the wall.

  “Are you hurt?” He asked now, his voice laced with concern, his hand moving from my throat to my shoulders. I shivered.

  “As if.” I muttered, dragging open my eyes, hating myself for showing him weakness. Straightening up I moved away, telling myself I wasn’t disappointed when he let his hands drop from my body.

  “What happens next?” I asked. For there had to be repercussions for what I’d done. There always had been in the past, only now, I had a feeling the price was going to be even higher. The question was, could I afford to pay.

  “I’ve got a proposition for you.” He said, watching me carefully. I didn’t wait for him to finish. He was no better than the asshole in the bar, only he was prepared to blackmail me to get me in the sack. I lost what little control I had and was on him in an instant. We went down with a thump and a cloud of dust. I wasn’t entirely sure where he ended and I began, our limbs were tangled and my fists were flying, his too judging by the throbbing in my jaw, yet I felt no pain, my body was humming again, the energy building, electricity zapped from my fingertips and I heard him curse.

  “Calm. The fuck. Down.” He gritted, getting the upper hand and pinning me to the ground on my stomach, my face pressing into the dirt. It didn’t work, of course. I just bucked and fought that much harder. We were rolling across the parking lot, grunts and curse words flying, me leaking electricity while one small fragment of my mind tried to reign in my demon, stop it from setting him and the bar on fire. As if sensing my weakness my demon seized control for one split second and a fireball shot from my hand, igniting a car in the lot.

  Then the world stopped. Everything stopped. My breath. My heart. Silence. His mouth was on mine, his lips hot as they pressed against mine. I was stunned. My demon was frozen, caught unawares, and just like that, Buchanan had control. And he wielded it well. One big hand cradled my jaw, angled my head, and his mouth plundered mine while I was helpless to resist. I opened to him and he stormed my mouth, his tongue brushing and stroking, teasing me. I gladly joined in, my hips involuntarily arched against him where we lay on the ground with me pinned beneath him. Slowly he ended the kiss and raised his head.

  “Do you have control now?” He asked, voice rough. I nodded. My demon had subsided with barely a whimper. Only now reality was starting to trickle in and I could hear the crackle and rumble of a fire burning nearby.

  “What did I do?” The horror in my voice was unmistakable. I blinked, looking beyond him and up into the night sky. This couldn’t be happening again. It couldn’t.

  “Follow my lead.” His mouth was at my ear, sending a delicious shiver through me, but I was confused. What did he mean? Then his mouth moved down my neck, his lips sliding across my skin and I arched beneath him. Vaguely I heard voices, realized the folks in the bar had rushed outside to investigate the fire, then I heard their snickers and laughter as they spotted us, rolling around in the dirt. Oh great. I stiffened beneath him and he lifted his head again, watching me with analytical eyes.

  “I need you to keep quiet and keep it together. Can you do that?” He asked. I nodded. Lifting himself off me he held out a hand and hauled me to my feet. I brushed myself off, refusing to meet his gaze.

  “What’s going on out here?” Stan asked, pushing through the crowd, eyeing me and Buchanan before he spotted the car well and truly ablaze. “What in the tarnation? I hope one of you knuckleheads has called the fire brigade.”

  There was a flurry of activity, patrons retrieving fire extinguishers from their trucks, cell phones out filming the blaze, others on the phone to the authorities. Agent Buchanan taking control. I shuffled back into the shadows, leaned against the wall with my arms over my chest and watched. It was only a matter of time. Surely Buchanan had called the Sheriff, arranging my arrest for arson. It wouldn’t be the first time.

  Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who felt that way for I heard them talking, speculating that wasn’t it interesting how I was back in town and now a car mysteriously caught fire in the parking lot of the bar where I worked. I had a feeling worked was in the past tense for Stan approached me now, his face a cross between anger and sadness.

  “Rae – Agent Buchanan tells me it looks like a fuel leak and someone tossed a cigarette butt and whoosh, it all went up in flames. Care to tell me different?”

  I thought for a moment, confused as to why Buchanan was covering for me. We both knew I shot a fireball during our tussle, that I lit the fire, whether unintentional or not. But could I risk telling the truth? With my record they wouldn’t ask twice, I’d be in jail or worse, back in the institute before I could blink. Reluctantly I shook my head.

  “I will take ya word for it. You’ve got enough on ya plate to deal with.”

  “Oh?”

  “Small matter of you assaulting a patron? Knocked him clean out, you did.”

  “Fuck.” I’d forgotten. In all the fuss about the fire, I’d forgotten the man I’d beaten the shit out of inside. “I guess I should apologize?”

  Stan shrugged, “Up to you. From what I saw he deserved it. But Rae, girl, I can’t have me barkeeper beating down on people.”

  “I didn’t get the job.” Didn’t take a genius to figure it out. I couldn’t blame Stan. I wouldn’t hire me either, not after that little display. Regardless that his takings this evening had been the best in years, fights and fires weren’t good for business.

  “You didn’t get the job. But I will pay you for your shift tonight.” At least he wasn’t being a total asshole about it and I appreciated being paid. “Come on to the office and I’ll get that sorted for ya. Cash okay?” He winked and I grinned, following him inside. Cash was perfect. I didn’t let myself think about the fact that I’d just blown my last chance at paid employment.

  Chapter Eight

  I drove home with the headlights of Agent Buchanan’s SUV in my rearview mirror. I still couldn’t figure out why he’d covered for me, and I was starting to think I’d jumped the gun on his proposition, maybe, just maybe, I should have heard him out before punching him in the face? For now that I’d calmed down I realized that the Agent probably didn’t need to proposition women to get them into bed, I was pretty sure with the way he kissed he’d have them falling all over themselves to join him between the sheets. Which meant he had a totally different proposition in mind and I needed to drag my mind out of the gutter.

  He pulled up beside me when I arrived home and we both slammed our doors in unison. For some reason that tickled my funny bone and I couldn’t contain the grin that curled my lips – until I saw his face and the smile was wiped from my face.

  “You’re angry.” It was a statement, not a question as I studied him under the glow of the
moonlight.

  “Nope.” He shrugged and I peered at him. Had I misjudged his mood? I didn’t think so, he looked pissed to me.

  “Tell me about this proposition and then get out of my hair.” I was on the defensive, my night had been ruined and I had no-one to blame but myself. That rankled more than pissing in my own bed.

  “Join the SIA and I’ll teach you how to control your demon.”

  “You still want me on your team?”

  He nodded. “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you have the skills that I need.”

  “Ha!” I scoffed, “I have no skills beyond how to pour a decent beer. Somehow I don’t think the SIA would think that would be very beneficial.”

  “You’re not even aware of what you’re capable of.” He muttered, shaking his head.

  “Enlighten me then.” I was tired, physically and emotionally. My calm, uneventful life had been torn apart and I craved to return to my peaceful existence in Alaska.

  “Join the SIA.” He responded, deadpan. Was this his game plan? Refuse to tell me anything until I agreed to join his stupid agency?

  “You’re a dick.” Blue electricity danced across my fingertips and I quickly clenched my hands into fists. Not fast enough for Buchanan who reached out and grabbed my hand, holding it firmly in his. I ignored the tingle of an entirely different kind that sparked from where his skin touched mine. I had a feeling he was going to be a distraction I was going to regret.

  “See this?” He uncurled my fingers and cradled my palm in his, “you can control this.”

  “But I can’t.” I protested, trying to pull my hand away but he held firm. “It builds up and I have no control over it, at all, it takes over, my demon takes over, and bad things happen. Real bad things. If you keep pushing me on this it’s going to happen again and it’s going to be your ass that gets singed.”

  “So mouthy.” He shook his head on a sigh. “I can help you Rae. Trust me.”

  Trust him. As if it were that simple. I tilted my head and studied him, unable to read his expression in the dim light.

  “You know nothing about me.” Of that, I was confident. Until his next words had my heart hitting my toes. “Oh I know all about you. I know you better than you know yourself – and that should scare you. I’ve got access to all of your files Rae. All of them. Your police record. Your patient files at the Institute. Your SIA file. I know your life story – I know every. Little. Thing. About. You.” He punctuated the last words with a poke in my chest, as if trying to drive home his point.

  “Now you’re being an asshole.” I muttered, tugging my hand from his and stepping back, for the bastard was right. Now I was scared. How could he know all that he claimed?

  He shrugged, “it doesn’t matter what you think of me.” Turning his back he climbed the front steps and deftly retrieved the spare key from its hiding spot, unlocked the door and held it open for me.

  Stomping my feet like a three-year-old I pounded past him, annoyed that I was on the backfoot with him, that he knew things I didn’t, that he knew things about me that I’d forgotten.

  Flicking on the living room light I stood frozen for a moment, a soft gasp leaving my lips. The family photographs that had dotted the walls and stood on every available surface were all gone. As were the Knick knacks that grandma had gathered over the years. The furniture remained but it all looked odd without her touch. Empty.

  “It appears you’ve been robbed.” He said calmly from behind my left shoulder.

  “Only by family.” I’d left my mother and Aunt’s in the house this morning. They’d obviously been very thorough with removing Grandma’s personal effects. While the house had felt strange before, now it felt just weird. I shivered, headed for the dresser where the whiskey was kept and sent a prayer of thanks that the women had left it behind. They’d taken the crystal glasses though. Carrying the bottle into the kitchen I rummaged in the cupboard and pulled out a glass, pouring myself a generous serve.

  “Why should I trust you?” Heaving myself onto the kitchen counter I took a gulp of whiskey, enjoying the burn, waiting for the heady hit of alcohol to reach my brain.

  “Because I’m your best shot at getting out of this town.” Hooking a chair with his foot he flipped it around and straddled it, arms resting across the back.

  “Pft,” I scoffed, “tell me something I don’t know.”

  “I know you’re a fire demon.”

  “That isn’t something I don’t know. It’s interesting that you know it, but since you say you’re with this fancy pants SIA getup, I guess I’d expect you to know that. Why haven’t we heard of you before? Why are you turning up now?”

  “So many questions.” He chuckled and my annoyance grew.

  “How about some answers? Or is this all bullshit? Are you playing some sort of game? Some sort of payback for something I’ve done to you or yours in the past?” My list of people with grievances against me was long and just because I didn’t recognize him – or his name – didn’t mean I hadn’t done wrong by him in the past. It was such a pain in the ass when karma catches up with you. I took another mouthful of whiskey.

  “No games. I am with the SIA. I do need your help and I do want you to join my team.”

  “I don’t understand why.” I muttered and then mimed zipping my lips shut when he quirked a brow at me.

  “I’ve already told you. You don’t get more until you’re on the team.”

  “So this is blackmail?”

  He shrugged, “call it what you want.”

  “I haven’t heard of any mysterious deaths in Maxxan. Did hear we have a problem with an overpopulation of Coyotes though.” I still couldn’t believe what he’d been telling me, that Maxxan had a vampire problem. I’d held strong to my vampire beliefs for so long, with no-one believing me, that now that he was telling me vampires did exist and were creating havoc in Maxxan I had trouble believing him.

  “I’ll show you.” I watched as he stood, pulled his phone from his back pocket, swiped over the screen and then headed toward me. His long-legged stride sure was mesmerizing and I found I couldn’t drag my eyes from his corded thighs encased in denim.

  “Eyes up here Shelton.” He wiggled the phone and I dragged my eyes to the screen only to shriek, “what the FUCK!” Slapping the phone away he only just managed to stop it from flying across the room. I jumped down from the kitchen counter and rounded on him, “what the ever-living fuck was that?”

  “Calm down.” God. How could he be so emotionless. What he’d shown me was horrific and my stomach was rolling in protest. A woman, her head torn from her shoulders, blood and gore surrounding her.

  “This-” he held up the phone again but I refused to look at it “is the work of a rogue vampire. They turn into rippers – as in, they rip the throat open of their victims.”

  “Get out.” I whispered, pointing to the front door. No more. I couldn’t take anymore. Not tonight. Maybe not ever.

  He left with a comment about no more whiskey. I heard the front door close softly behind him. Snatching up the whiskey bottle I cradled it in my arms and cursed him up one side and down the other. The clock ticked on the wall and I had a vague thought that I should be grateful my mom and Aunts hadn’t taken that as well. Taking the bottle with me I climbed upstairs, slid into bed fully clothed, still cradling the whiskey bottle. No more whiskey my ass, he clearly didn’t know me as well as he thought he did.

  Chapter Nine

  Eyeing the folded piece of paper that had been shoved under my front door I figured it was more orders from Buchanan. Join the SIA or else. Snatching it up I took a sip of coffee before flipping it open – it wasn’t from Buchanan.

  “Holy fucking shit.” Pulling my phone from my back pocket I stared at it for a second, thinking. Who to call? Of course, there was only one person I could call. Buchanan. Putting my coffee on the table I patted down my pockets, searching for the card he’d given me – the card that I’d ignored. Now, finge
rs trembling, I dialed the number. No answer. And no voice mail.

  “What the hell Buchanan!” I yelled at the phone, “answer me goddamn it.”

  Hurrying out to my truck I kept my phone on my lap and kept hitting re-dial as I peeled out of the driveaway, dust and gravel flying in my wake. They had Tyler. The note had been written in blood. You for him. It wasn’t until I’d turned it over and realized the note had been written on an old utilities bill addressed to Tyler that I’d realized what it meant. The vampires had him. The note had been written in his blood.

  “I don’t know what’s been going on in this shithole town, but they’ve messed with the wrong Shelton.” I muttered, speeding out of my driveaway and onto the main road. Then I saw it. A black SUV parked by the side of the road. I stopped next to it, engine running, and flung myself out of my truck.

  “I called you. You didn’t answer. They’ve taken Tyler.”

  “I heard.” Buchanan climbed out of his vehicle and faced me, “we’re monitoring the situation.”

  “Monitoring the fucking situation? Are you for real? We need to get him back.”

  “He’s already dead.”

  I punched him. My fingers throbbed from the contact but I wasn’t sorry. It had been instinctive. How dare he just stand here and say he was monitoring the situation when my brother’s life hung in the balance. I did not believe for one second that Tyler was already dead. They wanted something. They wanted me. Killing my brother would ensure the opposite.

  “Feel better?” He asked sardonically.

  “Marginally.” I threw the note they’d left me at him and he scanned it before meeting my eyes.

  “Do you know where to find them?”

  “I do. Where this whole thing began.”

  “We need a plan.” Shoving the note into his back pocket he stood with his hands on his hips, studying the ground as if the answer was written in the soil.

  “Well?” I asked, impatient. “We can’t afford to stand around here talking.”

  “Are you prepared to walk in and offer yourself up? What if they don’t release your brother? What if they kill you both? What then?”