Fire Rising (Dark Kings)

by Donna Grant

  Yet he followed Laith into the manor. The sound of voices came from the kitchen. As they stopped at the doorway of the kitchen they saw Elena pouring some tea and Jane fixing a sandwich while Sammi sat at the table desperately trying to stay awake.

  He found his gaze drawn to her no matter how hard he tried to look away. Even in profile, she was beautiful with her long, graceful neck and her fall of sandy-colored hair about her. She sat tall and straight in the chair, as if it was as natural as breathing.

  Tristan saw her fall asleep twice and jerk awake both times. The third time, she listed to the right. He rushed to her, grabbing her just before she hit the floor. Jane, Elena, and Banan turned as one from whatever they were doing to gawk at him.

  He gazed down at the woman who slept in his arms, completely taken unawares as he looked into her oval face. Her cheekbones were incredibly high, her nose small, and her lips as decadent as sin.

  Even in sleep, she made his body hunger to know her, his lips crave to taste her, and his hands ache to caress her. Desire shot through him like lightning, making him burn.

  Making him yearn.

  Tristan moved a strand of her hair out of her lashes and wished she would open her eyes so he could look into their cool color once more.

  Then he remembered where he was, and just who he was holding. “I think the food is going to have to wait.”

  “I knew she looked tired,” Jane said, a frown marring her forehead.

  Tristan easily shifted Sammi’s body into his arms and stood. “She’s too skinny.”

  “I knew she had lost weight too,” Jane said with a shake of her head. Then she looked at Banan. “I think she’s in some real trouble.”

  “We’ll get it out of her,” Banan promised.

  Tristan was careful not to touch Sammi’s left arm as more blood seeped through her shirt. “What about her injury?”

  Banan let out a string of curses as he walked from the kitchen. “She said it was nothing. Bring her, Tristan.”

  Jane was at his heels, tripping twice, as he followed Banan up the stairs. Despite both of them watching him like hawks, Tristan found his gaze drawn again and again to the woman in his arms.

  Her hair, a unique mixture of blond and light brown, hung over his arm, the waves teasing him to touch them. Her exhaustion and injury worried him that someone had pushed her to her limits, and he wanted to know who had done that to her. And why.

  Her jeans hung too loosely on her already small frame. The lime green collared pullover looked as if it had once fit her to perfection but now was just a little baggy.

  Banan threw open a door to one of the rooms on the second floor and pulled back the covers on the bed as Tristan walked inside. Gently he laid Sammi down, and not once did she even stir.

  “What’s happened to her?” Jane asked in a soft, worry-filled voice. “That’s not the Sammi we saw four months ago.”

  Across the bed Banan caught Tristan’s gaze and gave a slight nod. Tristan leaned down and gently lifted her sleeve and saw the ugly, puss-filled wound.

  “We need her shirt off,” Tristan said as he looked at Jane and Banan.

  Jane was quick to find scissors and cut the shirt off her sister. That’s when they got their first good view of the wound.

  “That’s from a gunshot.” Banan’s voice was laced with fury and retribution.

  Jane walked until she stood beside Tristan and gently touched Sammi’s wound. Jane’s eyes lifted to Banan. “I think it’s infected.”

  “The stitching isna professional,” Tristan remarked. Then he frowned as he studied the uneven sutures. “It almost looks as if Sammi did them herself.”

  Banan clenched his jaw. “She’s exhausted, starving, driving a car that isna hers, and she’s injured. Whatever secret she has, she willna give it up easily.”

  “And I’m not going to give up until my sister is safe,” Jane said, straightening and daring her husband to argue.

  Banan quickly lifted his hands. “I’m just stating a fact, my love. We’ll make sure that no matter what, she is taken care of.”

  “We need Con to heal her,” Jane stated.

  Before Banan could argue, Tristan said, “If Sammi doesna know who we are, it might be better if we clean this as best we can and only use Con as a last resort. After the fiasco with Denae and Kellan, the less Sammi knows, the better.”

  “I agree,” Banan said.

  Jane rolled her eyes, but her concern was palpable. “Let’s just get the wound seen to immediately.”

  Tristan pulled the chair from the corner closer to the bed. “Get me some scissors, hot water, bandages, and I’ll need thread and a needle to stitch it again.”

  “That’s it?” Jane cried. “She needs medicine. It’s infected.”

  Banan took Jane’s hand and dragged her to the door. “We willna know the extent of the infection until we remove the stitches that are already there.”

  “Right, right,” Jane said. She turned and only missed running into the door because Banan guided her the other way.

  It wasn’t long before Jane returned with an armload of supplies. She took two steps into the room and tripped on the corner of the rug, landing hard on her knee, but she didn’t drop a single thing.

  Tristan took the scalpel, rubbing alcohol, cotton balls, bandages, and needle and thread and laid them out on the bed. Banan then walked in with a pitcher of hot water that he poured into a bowl and set on the table next to Tristan.

  Tristan tried not to look at the white satin bra cradling Sammi’s breasts, but he couldn’t help but notice the firm mounds—or ignore the hunger that arose in his body.

  Instead, he concentrated on what he was about to do. Her breathing was even, even if the wound looked as if it were causing her an extreme amount of discomfort.

  He cleared his throat when Banan caught him staring at her breasts once more. Tristan took the scalpel and carefully cut the crude stitches. Sammi had managed to stop the bleeding, but that didn’t mean she had gotten the bullet out.

  That thought caused Tristan to gently turn her onto her right side to make sure there wasn’t a second wound, and just as he suspected, there wasn’t.

  “The bullet may still be inside her,” he told Jane.

  Banan stalked to the doorway and gave a loud whistle. Within seconds Darius, Laith, and Ryder came into the room. Tristan was intent on removing the stitches while Ryder lifted a light over him and held it there so he could see.

  With the stitches removed, Tristan carefully prodded the abrasion. Sammi shifted away from him. Darius grabbed her ankles while Banan knelt on the other side of the bed prepared to hold down her right side while Laith grabbed her left arm.

  Tristan looked to Jane. “I’ve never dug out a bullet.”

  “None of us have,” Banan said. “You doona have a choice since Kellan isna here. Get to it.”

  Tristan took a deep breath and probed farther into the wound. Sammi once more tried to pull away, but she was held down. Moving as quickly as he could, Tristan prodded for the slug with tweezers while Jane wiped away the blood.

  Sweat beaded his forehead the longer it took and the more pain he was causing Sammi. Then the tweezers hit something metallic. It didn’t take long for him to realize the bullet was imbedded in her shoulder bone.

  Tristan wiped his forehead with his arm and glanced at Sammi’s face. She was pale, but at least she hadn’t woken. Who had done this to her? Who would want to hurt someone so beautiful?

  He rotated his shoulder to stretch it and focused on the slug. It seemed to take eons before he finally got it to loosen. With one final tug, he felt it give.

  “Got it,” Tristan said as he pulled the bullet out and held it up for everyone to see.

  He looked at Sammi to find her powder blue eyes open and watching him. Time halted, froze as they stared at each other. Then her lids closed, breaking whatever hold she had over him.

  There was no moment to consider his reaction as Tristan handed the bullet
to Laith and set about cleaning the wound and draining away the puss so he could stitch it again.

  With the last thread in place, Tristan tied it in a knot and cut it. Ryder clapped him on the shoulder and moved away after he set aside the light.

  Tristan sat back and saw the blood on his hands. Suddenly, an image of those same hands covered in blood flashed in his mind, but his skin had been pale blue with long blue claws extending from his fingers.

  As quickly as the image appeared, it vanished, leaving Tristan with an odd feeling in his gut. He tried to forget it, but he didn’t think he would ever be able to. Was it a vision from his past, the past everyone claimed was of Duncan Kerr?

  “Good job,” Banan said.

  Laith held out the bullet after he had cleaned and dried it. “I think you all need to see this.”

  Ryder took the mangled slug and looked at it. “There’s something etched on it.”

  “What is it?” Tristan asked.

  Banan took it next and after looking at it a moment walked out of the room only to return with a magnifying glass. He held it over the bullet for a minute.

  “This can no’ be,” he mumbled.

  Jane wiped Sammi’s brow with a damp cloth. “What is it?”

  The bullet and magnifying glass were passed to each of them until Tristan finally got to see. He saw what was obviously a dragon etched into the metal.

  “What does this mean?” he asked.

  Laith snorted. “It means we’re fucked.”

  “It means Ulrik. It means that he has revenge in mind,” Darius said.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Sammi stared at the tray across her lap and tried to ignore her sister’s determined glare. Sammi awoke feeling rested and without her body aching as it had for the past month.

  That’s when Jane explained she had fallen unconscious at the kitchen table. They had brought her upstairs and found the wound. Apparently she had someone named Tristan to thank for removing the bullet.

  It wasn’t like she had left it in on purpose. She hadn’t even known it was a bullet. She’d thought it had been something from the blast.

  They had blown up her pub. They had killed Daniel. And they had tried to kill her.

  She didn’t feel the need to push these bad men to see how far they would go, because she knew firsthand how malicious and cruel they were. That kind of fear, that kind of terror was now a part of her. Everything she looked at was a potential threat, as was everyone.

  It had changed her, and not for the better.

  “Sammi, please,” Jane begged.

  Jane had been pressing her for answers for the past thirty minutes. Maybe Sammi should have pretended not to feel well. It might have put Jane off for a little while. Enough so that she could leave Dreagan while they slept.

  “I know you mean well, and that you want to help. Please trust me when I say it’s better if you don’t know,” Sammi finally said as she stirred the sugar in her tea.

  Jane shook her head, her short auburn hair swaying against her cheeks. “Screw that,” she said, her American accent taking on a hard note. “I’m your sister. I can help.”

  “Half-sister,” Sammi corrected and then immediately regretted it when she saw the hurt look in Jane’s eyes.

  “Half, whole. It doesn’t matter. We’re family. You came here for help.”

  Sammi let the hot tea slide down her throat. Her mother had always said tea could help anything. How Sammi wished that were true. Nothing could help her now. It was only a matter of time before the Mob caught up with her.

  If she hadn’t been wounded, if she had been rested, the last place she would have brought her troubles was to Jane’s door. She’d put her sister and everyone at Dreagan in the path of a madman who had no problems killing anyone who got in his way.

  “I shouldn’t have come,” Sammi said as she set her cup down.

  Jane tucked her hair behind an ear. “But you did. You knew you would be safe here.”

  It was on the tip of Sammi’s tongue to tell Jane everything. She was so tired of carrying such a burden alone, but if Jane and the others knew, it would only put them in danger. No matter how tired Sammi was, she couldn’t do that to them.

  Jane had been so kind and giving, even when Sammi had tried to keep her distance. Jane hadn’t given up though. She had taken her time and slowly gotten to know Sammi with phone calls, e-mails, texts, and even visits to the pub.

  There was kindness and acceptance in Jane’s amber eyes and it took everything Sammi had to keep her secret buried deep. She had come to Dreagan because she knew Jane would help. It had been selfish and stupid, and Sammi bemoaned her weakness.

  She had just been so tired of being alone, of dealing with everything alone.

  However, she knew Jane well enough to know she was like a dog with a bone. Jane wouldn’t let it go until she got some kind of explanation. So, Sammi decided to give her one.

  “There was an accident at the pub. I was hurt, and I thought I could take care of it myself,” she said with a shrug. “It was stupid not to get it seen to properly. I’m much better now, so I’ll return to the pub this afternoon.”

  “That might be difficult,” came a deep, sexy voice from the doorway.

  Sammi’s head swung around to the doorway to see Banan and another man. Her stomach plummeted to her feet, because Sammi had been sure those shrewd, intoxicating, dark, velvet brown eyes had been nothing more than a dream.

  But as she found herself sinking, falling, drowning into them, Sammi was elated to discover the eyes—and the man—hadn’t been a figment of her imagination.

  She drank in the very masculine, very virile man before her. Without knowing anything about him, she instinctively knew he was dangerous and seductive, wild and alluring.

  Even as she silently cautioned herself, she was inexplicably drawn to him. The attraction was immediate and alarming. At the same time it was captivating and enticing.

  She wanted to run her fingers through his light brown hair streaked with gold that hung thick and glossy just past his shoulders. Brows the same pale brown slashed over his eyes. He was clean-shaven, giving notice to his strong jaw and chin.

  He wore a shirt that molded to his broad shoulders. His arms were crossed, causing his muscles to bulge against skin kissed by the sun.

  Her eyes drifted lower to his jeans hanging low on his narrow hips and encasing his long legs close enough she could sense they were as corded with muscle as the rest of him.

  He was a walking fantasy. In all her life, Sammi had never seen anyone as drop-dead gorgeous as the man staring at her now. She had wanted to know him when her fever-induced mind had thought he was a dream, but now … now she knew to get close to him, to know him might put the heart she had guarded so well into peril.

  “Sammi?”

  She jerked at Banan’s voice but couldn’t pull her gaze away from his companion. For long seconds his dark eyes held hers until she looked away. Only to find Jane watching her peculiarly.

  “What?” she asked Jane.

  Banan walked into the room and came to stand beside Jane’s chair. “Did you no’ hear Tristan?”

  Tristan. The name fit the man to perfection, just as his clothes did. Had he spoken? Oh, yes, he had. That’s what had drawn her attention. His amazing, captivating voice that made her stomach flutter with exhilaration.

  But what had he said?

  Then she remembered. Sammi idly turned her teacup around on the tray. She was being cornered in her lie, a lie she’d constructed to protect her sister.

  “Sammi, please,” Jane urged. “Why would it be impossible for you to return to the pub?”

  “I told you there was an accident.” Sammi prayed they left it at that and didn’t probe further.

  Jane blew out a harsh breath. “What kind of accident? What happened?”

  Finally, she looked at her sister. “Leave it, Jane.”

  “You don’t trust me.” Jane’s words were said in a whisper, the hurt in
them slamming into Sammi like fists.

  Banan pulled Jane up and walked her to the door whispering something in her ear. After a minute she nodded and walked away. Banan then closed the door, leaving Sammi alone with him and Tristan.

  By the look on Banan’s face when he turned back to her, Sammi knew the interrogation was about to begin.

  “Don’t even try,” she said before he could open his mouth. “There’s nothing to tell other than what I’ve already said.”

  “You’re no’ a verra good liar,” Banan said.

  “I’m actually very good.” Why it offended her that he said she wasn’t, Sammi didn’t know. All she needed was a little more time to rest, and then she would be gone.

  Tristan drew in a deep breath. “The pub is gone. There’s nothing left.”

  As if she didn’t know that. She had been there. Felt the heat of the fire, suffered the impact of the blast.

  Experienced the hate of it all.

  When she didn’t reply, Banan briefly squeezed his eyes shut. “Your pub is gone. You were shot. That piece of shite you drove up in isna your car, Sammi. It doesna take a genius to figure out something is going on.”

  Damn but she’d thought she could pull something over on them. It had been naïve and foolish to think they would believe her lies. They left her little choice though. “I’m not telling you anything to keep you all safe. It was wrong of me to come—”

  “But you did,” Banan interrupted angrily.

  Sammi deserved his ire, but she wasn’t going to give in. “I knew my wound was getting worse. I needed to rest, and I knew Jane would help.”

  A muscle ticked dangerously along Banan’s jaw. “Aye. You’re her family.”

  “Why no’ go to the hospital?” Tristan asked.

  Sammi felt his dark gaze on her and shivered. His voice, just like his gaze, was electric, charged. Thrilling. She would definitely have to keep her distance from him.

  “I couldn’t chance it,” she admitted.

  Banan took the seat Jane had vacated and leaned his forearms upon his thighs. The frown he wore no longer held anger, but concern. “Who is after you, Sammi?”