Playing With Fire (tales of an extra ordinary girl)

by Gena Showalter

  “No.” And I wasn’t. “Does this employer of yours have a name?”

  Another heavy curtain of silence fell, then he said, “John Smith.”

  Puh-lease. “Yeah, like a thousand other men. Fine. Don’t tell me. I wouldn’t know him, anyway. But why won’t you take me to him? Give me a good reason to believe you. Tell me why you’d suddenly want my help in saving my own life when you were so determined to hurt me before?”

  His dark brows arched, and our gazes locked. “You won’t simply trust me?”

  “No. Nein. Nay. Shall I say it in another language?”

  He ran a hand over his face, pausing to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I’m not going to give you to my boss, and I’m not going to let you fall into Vincent’s hands,” he said. “Not now and not later. I give you my word. If we can’t find the doctor, I’ll find another way to get Vincent off your back.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “Because… ” He paused, as if confessing was a painful chore. “Because-damn it. This isn’t information you need right now.”

  I stopped working at the rope, poised at the edge of my seat. “Tell me anyway,” I insisted.

  “Because,” he repeated, glaring at me. The heat of that glare nearly singed my skin. “Because I need to take my daughter into hiding, and you’re the only one who can help me do that.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  IMMEDIATELY AFTER dropping that little bomb on me- Rome has a daughter. A daughter!-he shoved to his feet, skidding his stool backward. He prowled to the far counter and withdrew something from one of the drawers. He kept his back to me. “You’re going to help me, right?” he asked.

  “Whatever you say, boss,” I said uncertainly. What was he doing?

  “Good.” He pivoted on his heel and came toward me carrying a-ohmygod! He was holding a knife!

  Gasping, I jolted backward and tumbled off the stool. I landed with a thump, the cold linoleum floor doing nothing to cushion my fall. A sharp pain shot up my arms. Air shield, air shield. I needed a freaking air shield. But my hands were tied, literally! I tried to scramble back, pushing with my feet, but I wasn’t fast enough. Rome reached me and tsked under his breath.

  “So suspicious,” he said.

  “How can you do this?” I cried. What I wouldn’t give to hold out my arms and blast him with an air shield. If only I could will that power to work without the use of my hands. “I’ll-I’ll fry you. I’ll rip you apart with a tornado. You said I’d be able to command a tornado, and I’ll do it.”

  Unconcerned, he tossed the knife in the air and caught the hilt.

  “You need my help to hide your daughter,” I reminded him. “How can you-ummph!”

  Without a word, he flipped me onto my stomach. Through my shock and fear, I registered the sound of metal slicing through cord. Once. Twice. My mouth fell open as I realized he was cutting me loose, both wrists and ankles.

  “You’re free,” he said. “Trust me now?”

  I swung my arms in front of me; I parted my legs and drew my knees toward my chest, then jumped to my feet. With freedom came a surge of bravery. I whipped around, pointing a finger at his chest and growling, “Don’t you ever come at me with a knife again.”

  One of his brows arched in an insolent salute. “Or a needle?” he asked drily.

  “That’s right.”

  “No sharp objects, eh? You’re taking all the fun out of our relationship.” He tossed the knife in the sink with expert precision. The tip embedded right beside the drain, and the hilt swayed back and forth. “There are a few things I have to do,” he said, capturing my gaze with his own. His stare was intense, gauging. “Can I trust you to stay here?”

  I batted my lashes innocently. “Of course. You can trust me as much as I can trust you.”

  “I’ll take that to mean you can trust me,” he snapped. A frown pulled his lips tight. “Don’t bother trying to call anyone. There are no phones here. Do not leave this apartment, either. You will be hunted. I covered our tracks, but that doesn’t mean you’re completely safe.”

  My chin rose, and I regarded him with all the bravado I could manage. “That’s assuming they’ll be able to capture me, even knowing my location.”

  He rolled his eyes and stepped toward me, closing precious personal space. I stood my ground, not backing away as I wanted-or rather, should have wanted. Heat radiated from him, and it made me shiver deliciously.

  “You’re vulnerable, Belle. Until you learn how to control your abilities, you aren’t the amazing Periodic Table Chick, and you’ll be defeated. Every time.”

  “Don’t call me that!” I said, stomping my foot. The title seemed to drive home the fact that I wasn’t me anymore. I was someone else, someone different and dangerous and hunted.

  “Vulnerable?” he asked, lips curling. “Or Periodic Table Chick?”

  “Both. I’m not some superhero. I will find a way to get rid of these powers, and then everyone will have to leave me the hell alone.” Nothing was worth this kind of trouble. Nothing was worth being experimented on and/or killed.

  “For your sake, I hope we do find the doctor.” His tone had lost all traces of amusement, emerging grave and sad.

  Wait. Something wasn’t right here. Something… My eyes slitted and my hands fisted on my hips. “You’re contradicting yourself, Rome. If we find him and he helps me get rid of my powers, I won’t be able to help you hide your daughter, now will I? Not that I understand just how I’m going to help, anyway. And you can’t just tell me your daughter needs to be hidden and then tell me nothing else. I need details. Why are you going to hide her? Is someone after her?”

  He closed his eyes and rubbed a hand down his face. “You like the sound of your own voice, don’t you? That’s why you ask so many questions.”

  “Answer me. I’ll just keep asking until you do.”

  “Fine. No, she’s not being hunted. Not yet. But she’s a little girl and she deserves a normal life. She’ll never get that here. She’ll never have any kind of life if I don’t hide her, because she’ll be drafted by one of the paras. With or without my approval.” His voice was stark, pain-filled. “And I never said anything about when I’d let you try and get rid of your abilities.”

  I scowled. “Let me? Did you really freaking just say let me?”

  “Have you noticed that you often repeat what I say? Yeah, I said let you. Unless you want to make something of it, which I don’t recommend, I need to go.”

  Okay, he was seriously testing my (practically nonexistent) restraint, but it was a test I aced. I didn’t blast him with rapid-fire curse words (bastard, son of a bitch, Nazi commando) and I didn’t slap him until he dropped to the ground and blubbered like a baby. I did change the subject, not disclosing the fact that I would do whatever the hell I wanted the moment he was gone.

  Still, I couldn’t act too eager for him to leave.

  “Where are you going?” I frowned. “Someone really could try to sneak in here while you’re gone.”

  “I’m picking up a few things we’ll need, and to be honest, I’d rather risk someone sneaking in here than risk taking you out into the world. You might burn it down.”

  I threw up my hands in exasperation. “How many times do I have to say it? People are not in danger from me.” The more disastrous the deeds he thought me capable of, the easier it might be for him to do his job and take me to his boss. I hadn’t been able to call a wind, for God’s sake. And so what that I’d set my fingers on fire? I hadn’t hurt anyone or anything. “This is-”

  “That’s enough from you,” he said, cutting me off. “One more word and I’m going to tie you up again.”

  I gasped. He’d do it, too, I thought, my fury increasing. He claimed I was no longer his prisoner, that we were going to help each other, but he was already threatening to bind me. If he dared pick up that cord, I’d… I’d-

  A short blast of fire spewed from my eyes and slammed into the far kitchen wall.

  I
screamed the moment I realized what had happened. Rome dived to the floor. He was able to avoid direct impact, but several sparks danced on his cheek, singing the flesh. My eyes widened in horror as I stared at the growing inferno.

  “You were saying?” he asked, arching those insolent brows again. He rubbed at his burned cheek.

  My horror growing with the speed of the fire, I rushed to the sink and filled a cup with water. I tossed the contents over the flames, then repeated the actions over and over. It didn’t help.

  Rome managed to contain the damage with a fire extinguisher-but not my mortification. My God. I was a menace. I was dangerous. Maybe Rome and the others were on the right track, wanting me rubbed out. The scent of burning paint and wood filled the air. Black plumes of smoke curled upward, making me cough.

  After setting the extinguisher aside, Rome jumped up and jerked the smoke detector from the ceiling before it could erupt. He tossed it in the sink and gave me a pointed stare. “Still think the world is safe from you?” he asked, showing no mercy.

  “No,” I said softly, dejectedly. “I’m a freak.”

  “But you’re a cute freak. I won’t be gone more than an hour, okay? Try and control yourself.”

  “I will.” My shoulders slumped. I could have killed Rome, could have set him ablaze. I wanted to escape him-didn’t I?-but I didn’t want to destroy him. Not when he’d never really hurt me.

  Rome released a soft sigh. In the next instant, he was cupping my jaw in his hands and forcing me to face him. His fingers felt wonderful. Rough and abrasive, but utterly provocative. Sensual. Hot and strong. But most surprising of all, they felt comforting. I tingled. The warm, prickling lances seeped past skin, sinking right into bone.

  “Belle,” he said, his voice as gentle as his touch.

  Slowly I gazed up at him.

  He lowered his head. Breath caught in my throat, burning. Blistering.

  I had time to protest as he slanted his lips over mine, but I didn’t. I couldn’t, not when I suddenly craved his kiss with everything inside me. He was dangerous and exciting, and with everything going on, I might not have a tomorrow. Actually, an hour from now looked pretty iffy. I would allow myself this pleasure without guilt. Without hesitation. Without pause. I’d take it, savor it, enjoy it, no matter how bad it was for me. It could very well be the last good thing to happen in my life.

  He brushed my mouth once, twice. Perhaps he’d had every intention of leaving it like that, a brief, innocent touch, but I didn’t let him. I opened my mouth and gave him my tongue.

  Instantly it was all systems go. For both of us. No more lassitude. No more gentleness. Only undeniable need. Moaning low in his throat, he claimed me. His tongue swept past my teeth, sinking deep, demanding total surrender.

  He angled his head to the side for deeper contact. His fingers tangled in my hair, clamping tight. He tasted like hot, virile man. And something raw. Something utterly carnal. I couldn’t name it, not exactly, I only knew it was like nothing I’d ever encountered before. I wanted more, so much more.

  Our tongues thrust together, eager and needy. I found myself gripping his shirt, holding him to me as if I feared he would slip away. Heat was building inside me, so much blissful heat. It began as a tiny flame, licking over my every cell, then spreading and branching through the rest of me.

  My nipples hardened and strained against my shirt, abrading with my every movement. My legs weakened. I ached, yes, I ached. The fire grew. Rome seized my hair in a painful clench, as if he needed an anchor. As if he couldn’t stand the thought of releasing me for any reason. Yet in the next instant he growled and sprang away from me.

  “ Rome?” I said breathlessly.

  He stood an arm’s length away, his breath shallow. “You were about to burn me up,” he panted.

  I was aching, burning, as he’d said. I wanted him back in my arms. Wanted his tongue in my mouth again. Wanted his erection pressed between my legs this time, sliding up and down, slowly at first, then quickly pushing me over the sweet edge of satisfaction. Except he’d meant “burn” literally. I’d almost flame-broiled him, I realized, seeing smoke curl from my hands. And still I wanted him.

  How could I desire him this fiercely? Him?

  I inhaled sharply, but that didn’t help. Hints of his male fragrance seeped into my nostrils. Another tide of desire slammed into me, making my stomach quiver. Making another flame roar to life there. Damn it, I shouldn’t crave him like this. Maybe-maybe we shouldn’t have done that. I was vulnerable to him now, more so than before.

  My hands fisted at my sides, and I concentrated on my anger. Right now, any emotion was better than desire. He shouldn’t have kissed me! “ Rome,” I said.

  “I shouldn’t have done that,” he said between breaths, parroting my thoughts.

  “No. You shouldn’t have.” I curbed the urge to trace my swollen, pulsing mouth with my fingers.

  “I’m not going to say I’m sorry.” The words were a throaty growl, cutting through the ensuing silence. “And I’m not going to tell you I won’t do it again.”

  I pursed my lips, fighting a rush of pleasure. You’re angry, remember? “I didn’t ask you to, did I?”

  He paused, shook his head. Surprisingly, satisfaction gleamed in his eyes. “Didn’t ask if I meant to do it again or didn’t ask me to not do it again?”

  “Oh, just shut up.” I’d basically thrown myself at him, and refused to make it worse by voicing my desires. He had to know that parts of me-the most feminine parts-hoped he would do it again. Soon. My nipples were still beaded. The ache between my legs had yet to dissipate.

  He reached out and traced his fingertips over my mouth, just the way I’d wanted to do myself, beckoning the fire all over again. “You can trust me,” he said. Was that a trace of guilt in his voice? “Despite everything that’s happened, or maybe because of it, you can trust me. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not going to betray you.”

  Oddly, I wanted to believe him. I wanted to place my life in his obviously capable (wonderfully wicked) hands. And yet, I couldn’t trust my own instincts right then; I mean, look where they’d gotten me so far.

  He took my silence for capitulation and said, “I’ll check the building and surrounding area. If you stay here, you should be safe.” With a final caress of my cheek, he walked away. Or rather, disappeared, leaving behind a deflated, empty room.

  My face scrunched, and my gaze jerked from one corner to another. One second he’d stood in front of me, the next he hadn’t. In fact, the only sign that he’d been here was the exquisite tingling in my face and the churning heat in my stomach.

  “ Rome,” I called. I should have heard the front door close or at least a window slide. Since I’d heard neither, I padded through the dingy apartment. There was no trace of him.

  How the hell had he gotten out so silently? As he’d promised, the door and windows possessed some kind of para-agent, futuristic bolt that spread silver, spiderlike legs through the wood and frame, linking them together. I highly doubted Rome could walk right through them. Or could he? After all, what did I know about the world nowadays?

  “He’s gone,” I told myself. “How he left doesn’t matter.” Instead of wasting any more of my time on him, I trekked through the apartment again, this time searching for a phone. I wanted so badly to hear my dad’s voice.

  Rome hadn’t lied, though. There were no phones.

  “Shit.” I paced the cramped living room. If I went back to my apartment, would my phones be tapped? The call traced? If I left this building and found a pay phone, would I be followed? Killed?

  Taken?

  I’ll only be gone an hour, Rome had said. I had to make a decision now. Stay and wait for Rome, trusting him to keep his word and protect me. Or go, doing my best to keep myself safe-and the world safe from me.

  Either way, I might make the wrong decision.

  Either way, I’d be welcoming trouble with open arms.

  Knowing that, I felt frustra
tion and urgency rush through me. I massaged my temples. What I really needed was time alone, time to think this through without worrying when Rome would return. Time to make a decision on my terms, not his. Everything he’d said could very well have been a lie meant to lull me into submission. Or not. Arghh.

  Something about the bargain he wanted to make bothered me, but at the moment I couldn’t pinpoint exactly what. Still, the unsettling sensation was there and I didn’t like it. Made me twitchy.

  I expelled a shaky breath. Until I knew for sure and had this thing figured out, I was going to have to run. Run, just as I’d wanted to in the beginning. I’d be careful. I wouldn’t let myself feel a single volatile emotion, which would protect the world. I wouldn’t trust anyone, which would protect me.

  Of course, I couldn’t go back to my apartment. I’d have to go somewhere I’d never been. Somewhere no one would think to look for me.

  Determined, I fiddled with the front door for several minutes, unable to loosen it. I didn’t have long to escape, I thought, suspecting Rome would hurry back. I stared down at the doorknob. I’d never be able to pry it open.

  I’d have to burn it off.

  As quickly as possible, I searched the apartment and located a vinyl bag. Everything of mine, I tossed inside. Thankfully, Rome had brought several pieces of my clothing and many of my toiletries. Of course he hadn’t grabbed my ATM card, but the wad of money I found under the mattress made up for that. I stuffed the bills into my pocket.

  Ready to face the door again, I stalked to it, glaring. How was I going to summon fire without creating an inferno? Maybe if I allowed myself a little anger. Only a little. Hopefully, the lock would burn and nothing else.

  Please let nothing else burn.

  Drawing in a deep, steadying breath, I dropped the bag at my feet. I popped the bones in my neck, preparing to work up a good (but tiny!) steam. To do that, I needed to think about things that angered me, but didn’t infuriate me.

  Okay. So. I hated when people cut in line. I also hated rude customers and menial jobs. Oh, that’s good, I thought, giving myself a mental pat on the back as a kernel of anger sparked. However, the mental pat quickly doused the anger, flooding me with satisfaction.