Burning Up

by Nalini Singh

  "I'll wish you luck inside." He pulled open the outer door.

  "Emmett, I can't go into an interview with a bodyguard."

  His eyes turned flint-hard. "Vincent knew when you'd be coming home from your course. Chances are high that he's worked out you'd now be applying for jobs."

  She grit her teeth. "This is an established firm. I hardly think I'm going to be in danger from the sixty-year-old manager."

  "You're not going behind a closed door with anyone."

  Ria argued until she was close to the screaming point but he wouldn't budge. Predictably, her interviews didn't go well. The first manager was so affronted at the idea of being considered a threat that he booted her out without an interview. The next two were female and couldn't stop staring at Emmett long enough to listen to Ria. When one finally did throw her a crumb of attention, it was to give her a condescending smile and say that maybe she wasn't cut out for office work.

  A babysitter didn't exactly inspire confidence.

  Ria was close to tears by the fourth interview, but not from anxiety. From sheer rage. "Thank you for destroying my chances of employment," she said as they got off the skytrain near Chinatown, having circled the city for her appointments.

  "Ria," he began.

  She slapped up a hand, palm out. "I am cut out for office work. I do my mother's books. Not only that, I do the entire family's books. I make sure my father goes to his appointments and Amber sees the obstetrician on time, that Grandmother takes her medications and Jet doesn't forget to write New Year cards to our aunts in Albuquerque. I am damn well cut out for office work!"

  "I never said you weren't."

  The soothing tone in his voice made Ria want to bite him. "No, you simply stood there like I couldn't be counted on to take care of myself if someone tried to hurt me. That day, at the gym, it was all bullshit!"

  His scowl was thunderous. "Take that back."

  "I'm not talking about that, you idiot. I'm talking about the self-defense stuff. It was just to pacify me. You don't even trust me to scream." That had been the first lesson he'd taught her--scream as loud as you can and run. "You know what, I think that makes the other stuff bullshit, too."

  "Hold on a fucking minute."

  SIX

  I gnoring him, she walked through the automatic doors of the medium-sized office building that was the location of her next appointment and strode up to the counter. "Hi," she said to the well-groomed woman on the other side, her skin a lush, flawless mahogany. "I have an appointment with Lucas Hunter."

  The woman's eyes flicked behind Ria's shoulder, and something like surprise passed through them, but her voice, when she turned to Ria, was wholly professional. "Name?"

  "Ria Wembley."

  A warm smile. "You're fifteen minutes early, Ms. Wembley. If you'll wait here, I'll let you know when Lucas has finished with the current applicant."

  "Thanks." She was walking toward the seating area when she belatedly realized she didn't know the name of this company. The ad had simply said that a small but growing construction firm was seeking administrative staff. Since that ad had been vetted by the college where she'd taken her course, she hadn't worried too much about the lack. But her ignorance probably wouldn't look too good . . . if this Hunter person even bothered to see her after learning about Emmett.

  Turning on her heel, she skirted around Emmett to speak to the receptionist again. "I'm sorry. I noticed that your doors don't have the company name on them."

  The woman's gaze flicked to Emmett again. Ria fumed. But the beautiful brunette didn't seem to be checking him out. "Actually," she said after a small pause, "the name's still in discussions . . . er, the partners haven't decided on the order."

  "Oh." That was odd, but not odd enough to make her run. Beggars, as they said, couldn't be choosers. Nodding, she walked to the comfortable arrangement of armchairs to the left of the reception counter, choosing a seat bathed in sunshine.

  Emmett sprawled beside her. "What we shared was not bullshit. And I didn't know you even knew how to swear."

  The joke just irritated her. "If you can lie about one thing, why not another?"

  "Now, hold on. I never lied to you."

  "Oh yeah? What do you call teaching me self-defense, then treating me like a brainless ninny?"

  "Excuse me."

  Ria jerked up at the sound of the receptionist's voice.

  "Lucas is free now," she was told. "The interviews are taking place one floor up."

  As she got up and headed across the lobby to the elevators, someone called out a hello. Since she didn't know the male heading out the front door, she assumed it had been aimed at Emmett. "Friend?" She stabbed the touchpad beside the elevator.

  He wouldn't meet her eyes. "Yeah."

  The elevator doors opened to reveal an empty cage and she could've sworn she heard Emmett sigh in relief. "Fear of crowded elevators?"

  "Something like that."

  They were on the next floor what felt like an instant later. The meeting room was obvious by its open door. The man who came to that door was beyond handsome--bright green eyes, dark hair that brushed his shoulders and savage clawlike markings on the right side of his face. He was young . . . yet not. Experience flickered in that striking green gaze, and Ria knew he'd sized her up in a single fleeting instant.

  "Ria"--he held out a hand--"I'm Lucas. Come on in."

  She shook and went to explain Emmett . . . except that her self-appointed bodyguard had already grabbed a seat in the plush armchair outside the meeting room. Her mouth hung open for a second before she snapped it shut. What in the . . . ? This Lucas, with his aura of contained power, was undoubtedly far more dangerous than anyone else she'd met today and Emmett was okay with her being alone with him?

  Deciding not to look a gift horse in the mouth, she walked in, aware of Lucas closing the door behind her as she took a seat on one side of a small table. There was something about his walk when he came to take his own seat . . . he reminded her of someone.

  "Water?" At her nod, he poured her a glass and pushed it across. "I've read your resume. You've just completed studies in advanced office administration?"

  She took a sip before answering. "Yes, at the top of my class. I've also had some on-the-job experience through the course."

  Lucas nodded. "I have no doubt your technical skills are excellent. We checked with the college and with the people you put down as references."

  The efficiency of it surprised and pleased her. "Your ad said you were seeking a number of staff," she said, finding herself relaxing in spite of her vivid awareness of his power. The woman who took on Lucas Hunter, she thought, would have her work cut out for her. "Could you give me more information about the positions--I could perhaps tell you which I might be best suited for."

  "Actually, you're on the short list for a particular position already. That's what I want to discuss--it's in no way a normal administrative job."

  Ria was intrigued. "No?"

  "No." A smile that turned him from gorgeous to beautiful in a very masculine way. She appreciated the sight, but without wanting to jump his bones. Not like with Emmett. And that thought had no business interrupting her interview. Corralling her runaway hormones, she turned her attention firmly back to Lucas.

  "How are you with chaos?" he asked.

  "I love it." Her response was instinctive. "It gives me more to organize."

  Lucas laughed. "What about constant interruptions, having to rejig meetings on a moment's notice, and a boss who might be impossible to track down at times?"

  "If it needs to be done, it'll get done," she said, meeting those brilliant green eyes. "But I'll be honest--even though I probably shouldn't be. I'm likely to get a little short-tempered now and then."

  "A temper might come in handy in this position." His lips tilted up at the corners. "This is a . . . family business. And that family will be in and out. Can you handle being the focus of their curiosity?"

  It was a strange quest
ion, but her answer was easy. "Let's see--every Sunday without fail, my aunt Eadie calls to interrogate me about my life and offer 'essential fashion advice.' My paternal grandparents live in Idaho, but last week, they sent me a dossier on all the nice boys in town--just in case. Oh, and my normally very forward-thinking parents recently tried to arrange my marriage. I know how to handle family."

  His eyes danced. "And the arranged marriage?"

  Since she'd brought it up, she couldn't exactly avoid the personal question. "Not happening."

  "That's what I thought." He rose to his feet, an amused curve to his mouth. "I think that's all I need from you, Ria."

  Standing, she picked up her purse. "It's you, isn't it? The person I'd be working for if I get the job?"

  A slight nod.

  "Usually HR interviews applicants."

  "I'm picky." He pulled open the door. "I need to trust the person I hire."

  Smiling even as her stomach dropped, she stepped out. Emmett was up and waiting for her. They entered the elevator in silence and walked out into the street.

  "How'd it go?" Emmett asked.

  "Good."

  He rubbed the back of his neck. "Still mad?"

  "You think I should give you credit for letting me go in there alone?" She raised an eyebrow, wondering what he'd do.

  "Er." His cheeks flushed. "Never mind."

  She felt her lips twitch. "I know he was a cat, Emmett. The way you leopards walk, it's a dead giveaway." They prowled, all soft and silent and lethal.

  "Shit." He grinned. "I was hoping to score brownie points."

  "So it's DarkRiver Construction?"

  "Part of it. The building will also function as the pack's city headquarters--we outgrew the old premises."

  All of which, Ria knew, meant she'd never get the job. Changeling packs looked after their own, sticking together like glue. Sure they'd helped clean up the city, making it safer for everyone, but as Emmett had explained, that had more to do with holding territory than anything else.

  Tired, dispirited, and hungry, she walked into a neighborhood restaurant run by a family she'd seen at community functions, and grabbed a seat. Emmett took the chair opposite hers.

  "You order," he said, scanning the room.

  She was telling the waitress--who also happened to be the owner's daughter--that she wanted cashew chicken, when Emmett moved across the table to smash her and the waitress both to the ground. A split second later, she heard a loud pop followed by a scream. Emmett was already up and speaking on his cell. "He's heading out, past the candy shop--" He ran toward the door.

  Getting up, Ria helped the shaken waitress to her feet. Emmett was back before she'd finished. "You hurt?" His hands swept over her body.

  Aware of several interested glances, she slapped them off. "I'm fine." She turned to check on the waitress and got the same answer in response. "What happened?" she asked Emmett.

  He pointed behind her. A large hole marred the previously pristine wall. "Bullet." His jaw was a brutal line, his eyes . . . his eyes.

  Stepping instinctively closer, she put her hand on his chest. "Emmett."

  He glanced down, those incredible green-gold eyes, leopard eyes, looking out at her from a human face. His hand cupped her cheek. "You have a scratch here." A thumb stroking gently over a hurt she didn't even feel, his gaze predator-cold.

  She didn't know how she knew what to do. She just did. Instead of fighting off his hold as she had earlier, she leaned into him, slipping her arms around his waist. His own came around her at almost the same instant, and he squeezed her close, until she could barely breathe. But she held on, held tight.

  She didn't know how long they stood wrapped around each other, but when he did finally release her, the fear in the restaurant had turned to speculation. Likely, her grandmother and mother would be hearing all about it in the time it took to type a text message. She didn't care. Because the leopard was gone from Emmett's eyes, his rage under control.

  He tapped her cheek. "Grab your purse. This place needs to be looked at by our techs, and I want you safe at home."

  Realizing he wanted to start tracking the shooter as soon as possible, Ria didn't argue. Emmett's eyes were hyperalert as they began to head out of the restaurant, his big body vibrating with protectiveness.

  "Please!"

  Startled, she looked over her shoulder. It was the waitress Emmett had taken down--the woman ran over, a bag of take-out containers in hand. Her smile was a little wary as it flicked to Emmett, but her gratitude clear. "Thank you." She shook her head when Emmett, the majority of his attention clearly on ensuring no more nasty surprises, went to grab his wallet. "It's a gift. My father was in the army. He says that bullet would've hit me first." She pressed the bag into Ria's hands. "Please take this."

  Ria accepted it, understanding the family's need to give something back to the man who'd saved their child's life. "Thank you."

  The woman smiled and looked up at Emmett. "You're welcome at our table at any time."

  Emmett gave a short nod. Ria wondered if he understood the value of the invitation. She could've let it go, but that wasn't who she was--she asked him about it as they walked home at a rapid clip.

  "I know," he said, his voice tense as he scanned the area. "We've been working on building relationships with the folks around here, but it's been a slow process. You're very insular."

  "Talk about the big, fat charcoaled pot calling the kettle black."

  An unworried shrug, no smile. "Didn't say we didn't understand."

  "People like DarkRiver cats," she said, wondering why that damn arrogance was sexy on him. "You've cleaned things up so the shopkeepers feel safe."

  "We're starting to get friendlier smiles," he told her, "but that's all going to be fucked to hell if Vincent and his gang of thugs start shooting holes in defenseless people."

  "I have a feeling they don't know what they're up against."

  A hard glance. "You got that right, mink."

  She opened her mouth to respond but they'd arrived at her family home and Amber was waiting in the doorway, cell phone in hand. "She's home!" her sister-in-law said into the slim white device as soon as she spotted Ria. "No, she's safe. Emmett's with her."

  All but lifting Ria inside, Emmett ordered Amber to shut the door. "And stay inside." He was gone before Ria could say anything else.

  Blowing out a breath, she took the phone Amber was holding out. "Mom, I'm fine." She repeated that for the next ten minutes, until Alex finally calmed down. By that time, her grandmother had prepared tea, brought out two giant hunks of Mr. Wong's famous Divine Madeira Cake, and begun to make her special sweet black-sesame soup, one of Ria's favorites.

  "Sit!" she said when Amber began to stand up as if to help.

  Amber sat with a thankful groan. "The baby's kicking so hard. Want to feel?"

  "Yes!" Ria scooted over. Amber was a great sister-in-law, but she was also intensely private. This kind of an invitation didn't come often. Placing her hand on Amber's abdomen, she stayed very still. Miaoling's future great-grand(gender unknown) didn't keep Ria waiting. She felt two very distinct thuds. "Wow, I think I felt the shape of a foot."

  Amber laughed. "Probably. Baby Wembley has a future as a football player. Fitting really, given the family name."

  "Don't tell Jet," Ria teased, biting into her cake. The familiar taste was as welcome as a hug, soft and comforting. "He's hoping for a golf buddy."

  "What about you, Ria?" Breaking off a piece of her own slice, Amber brought it to her mouth. "You thinking of popping out any golf buddies sometime soon?"

  "Amber!" Ria fell back, laughing. "Where do you think I'm going to get the other half of the equation now that the Great Match is done for?"

  "Oh, I don't know." Amber's eyes turned sly. "But I know a cat who looks at you like he wants to eat you up, then come back for seconds."

  Ria was still gasping at the scandalous comment from her--usually--shy sister-in-law, when Miaoling began laug
hing. Slapping her thigh, she laughed so hard that Ria could do nothing but join in. "You heard"--she sobbed between bursts that left her stomach aching--"what Jet said. They don't get serious with humans."

  "Who says?" Amber's eyes were shiny with humor. "Just because we don't know about any."

  That cut off Ria's laughter. She sat back. Thought about it. Shook her head. "We'd have heard. I'd have heard at the college."

  "Not necessarily," Amber argued. "They don't exactly advertise things. I'd say I'd never met a more closemouthed lot, but . . ." She waved a hand.

  Ria blew out a breath. "I can't ask him. You know that."

  "Why?" Miaoling asked.

  "Because then he'd think I was hinting at something!"

  Her grandmother gave her a gimlet-eyed glance. "If you don't hint, how's he going to know?"

  Ria's mind flooded with the memories of her pressed up against that gym door, his hand stroking over her, his tongue in her mouth. "He knows."

  "Yes," Amber said. "Changelings have a better sense of smell than humans. He can probably scent your you-know-what."

  Ria stared. "Amber, what's come over you?"

  Her sister-in-law picked up another piece of cake. "I'm going to blame it on the pregnancy." A slow grin.

  SEVEN

  Emmett's blood was at fever point. Returning to the restaurant, he caught the scent of the shooter and began tracking. Dorian and Clay had both picked up the trail while he escorted Ria home, but this was his hunt.

  His fingers remembered the soft feel of Ria's skin, the delicate roughness of the scratch that shouldn't have been on her face. The leopard paced inside his skull, wanting out, wanting to do damage, but Emmett held on to his humanity. For now.

  Minutes later, he found both Dorian and Clay standing frustrated at a busy intersection. "Fuck," Emmett said, sensing what they had. The shooter's scent simply disappeared.

  "Probably someone waiting to pick him up," Dorian muttered, looking around. "No CCTV cameras in this area. We need to fix that."

  Emmett narrowed his eyes, making a slow circuit of all four points of the intersection. It was clogged with people. "Can't have been a pickup. It'd be too hard to make a quick getaway," he muttered almost to himself . . . and looked up.

  The old-fashioned fire escape ladder hung a few feet off the ground, just far enough up to confuse the scent trail with this many people around. Landing on the ladder with a single powerful jump, he began to follow the fading trail with the fluid grace of the leopard he was. No human could ever hope to match a predatory changeling moving at full speed.