Playing with Fire

by Lexi Ryan

  “What’s it like? Living on the outside?”

  Normal, I want to say, but Amy’s probably forgotten what normal is. She was ten when we moved to Camelot. “What part?”

  “You were engaged to that doctor and planning a big wedding. What was that like?”

  “Someone told him what happened at Camelot, and he called it off and left me. It sucked.” I drop my shoulders. I’m being defensive. “Why do you want to know about life on the outside?”

  She stares at me a long time, then shrugs. “I want to know what’s so great that it’s worth abandoning your family.”

  I rush around the counter to wrap her in my arms because I hear the pain in her words. That was why I stayed in Camelot as long as I did. I never wanted to leave my sister. “When I left,” I say, smoothing her hair, “I wanted to take you with me. I would have if there had been any way.”

  “I don’t understand why you want me to leave so badly. It’s not like you’re happy. I might understand if you liked your life.”

  I drop my arms and step back. “I love my life.”

  She arches a brow. “If you say so, but I think I’d take sharing my husband over sixty-hour work weeks and living alone in a big house.”

  “It’s not the polygamy that bothers me, Amy.”

  “And it’s not that you live alone that bothers me,” she says. “Have you ever even stopped to ask yourself if this life makes you happy? Because to me it looks like you’re so busy running from your old life you’ve never bothered to consider if this is the one you want.”

  * * *

  Max

  Thurisaz.

  I stare at the picture of the rune on my computer screen and frown. Stuck doing paperwork at the club, I thought I’d go all Sherlock Holmes with what’s happening with Phoenix. But either I suck at this or I don’t have enough clues.

  Although I know way more about runes now than I did before my Internet research twenty minutes ago, I still don’t understand. Thurisaz is the name of the rune symbol that was burning in her yard last week, and unless there’s more that she’s not telling me, it’s the reason she’s still staying at my house five days later.

  I read several websites and they all explained that the symbol is like a thorn. Many people believe it to be something sharp, grim, or evil, but it is a positive symbol in the sense that it’s about combining wisdom with the need to use brute force. It’s also a fertility rune or can reference technology, or some such shit.

  I’m no closer to figuring out what she was afraid of than I was before my little online investigation. None of that seems particularly threatening, but Nix feels threatened. Aside from those first two nights, we’ve slept in separate beds. I keep waiting for the night she goes to her own house, and the fact that she stays at mine even while trying to keep distance between us tells me that she’s terrified of something.

  A knock sounds at my door.

  “Come in.”

  The door cracks and Hanna Thompson pokes her head in. “I was hoping we could talk.”

  “Sure.”

  She closes the door behind her and sinks into the chair on the opposite side of my desk.

  Not so long ago, Hanna showing up to talk to me in my office would have screwed me up for days. Her closing the door would have made it weeks. There would have been part of me that prayed she was there to reconcile. Even after she chose Nate, even after she had his twins and put on his ring, I carried around hope that she might come back to me.

  Or I thought it was hope. But hope should be light and airy. It should lift you up and make your burdens lighter. What I carried for months after Hanna left me wasn’t like that. It was heavy and burdensome. It wore me down and made everything harder.

  I’m fucking grateful that’s passed.

  Nix played a part in that. I mean, I was getting there and I would have been okay, but that day in her garage was a huge milestone for me. She wasn’t just the first woman I’d slept with since Hanna, she was the only woman who’d wiped the last thoughts of Hanna out of the back of my mind. Since our early morning groping session, Nix has been sleeping in my guestroom and dodging any and all physical contact with me, and though that’s a far cry from a relationship, it does more for me than any date I’ve been on since Hanna and I broke it off.

  “What can I do for you?” I ask Hanna.

  “I don’t know exactly.” She gives a tentative smile and drops her gaze to her lap. “You deserve to be happy, you know. I hope my friendship with Nix doesn’t make this weird for you. I hope that’s not why you two aren’t . . .”

  “Aren’t what?”

  She shrugs. “I don’t know. More?”

  I release a puff of air. “Hanna, and I mean no offense when I say this, but what’s happening between me and Nix isn’t about you. Not at all.”

  She flinches. “Okay then.”

  Sighing, I drag a hand over my face. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be a dick.”

  She shakes her head. “You’re not. That was completely self-absorbed, and I’m sorry.”

  I nod and lean back in my chair. “It was a reasonable question. I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

  “You didn’t.” When she smiles, I catch myself bracing for that rip-your-guts-out feeling, but it doesn’t come.

  “You’re happy,” I say softly.

  “I’m sleep-deprived and run ragged. Morning sickness is a bitch this time around, and our twins are into everything, and my stepson is going through a phase where he thinks he doesn’t need to listen to me.” She shrugs. “But yeah. Life is good. I’m happy.” Then her smile fades and her big brown eyes go sad. “What about you?”

  “I’m working on it,” I say. “The upside of all this stuff with Nix is that it distracts me from missing Claire.”

  “I guess I don’t understand. If I’m not the problem . . .”

  I lift my hands, palms up.

  “So are you two . . .?” She doesn’t have to finish for me to hear the question in her words.

  “I don’t know.” I fold my hands behind my head and stare at the ceiling. “It’s like she’s using one hand to keep me close and the other to push me away. She won’t date me, but then she crawls into my bed.”

  Hanna’s eyes go wide. “You’re sleeping together?”

  “Not like that.” I’ve said too much. I turn my chair and look out the window.

  “You’re sleeping together platonically? Like brother and sister?”

  I turn back to Hanna, and I’m sure she can see the truth in my eyes, but I say the words anyway. “There is nothing brotherly about the way I feel about Nix being in my bed.”

  Hanna leans back in her chair. “Wow. Okay then.”

  “Why do I always want the girl who doesn’t want me, Hanna? That seems pretty fucked up to me.”

  “Hmm . . . are you sure Nix doesn’t want you?”

  A smile tugs at my lips. “Sometimes she lets me kiss her.” Maybe Hanna’s a weird choice, but I’ve been so stuck in my own head where Nix is concerned, and it’s nice to have someone to talk to. “I know she’s attracted to me. Hell, the way she looks at me when she thinks I’m not paying attention makes that much clear. But being attracted to someone isn’t the same as wanting to be with them, and she’s definitely made up her mind about not wanting to be with me.”

  “I’m not so sure about that,” Hanna says, biting back a grin.

  I study the symbol on my computer screen. “Do you know much about her past?”

  The humor falls from Hanna’s face. “You know, I really don’t. She doesn’t talk about it, not like the rest of us. She’s private.”

  That’s an understatement. “She’s fighting some demons. Maybe I need to give her some space.”

  Hanna nods. “Or maybe you fight them right alongside her.”

  Fifteen

  Nix

  I’m sitting at a table with a handsome man, an expensive meal, and a damn fine glass of wine.

  Truth be told, I expected Cade would
cancel. I mean, I’m just starting to wrap my brain around Max’s interest in me, and it’s weird to think that two ridiculously handsome men want to take me out.

  “Thanks for agreeing to come out with me tonight,” Cade says, his dark eyes studying me.

  I shift awkwardly in my seat and take a fortifying sip of my wine. “I have a confession to make.”

  Cade arches a brow. “A confession? Should I be prepared to Mirandize you?”

  I feel the blood drain from my face and my stomach pitch into a free fall before I realize he’s joking. Man, am I screwed up. “No, not that kind of confession.”

  “Oh, good. Because it’s kind of a killjoy when I have to arrest my dates.”

  Laughing, I shake my head. “No, I wanted to tell you that I’m not looking for a relationship. I just don’t want you hurt if you’re thinking this date might be the start of something serious.”

  He leans back in his chair. “I’m pretty sure that’s my line.”

  “Sorry.” I take another gulp of wine and my cheeks heat. “No one shared the script with me.”

  “Is that what’s going on with you and Hallowell? He wants something serious, and you don’t?”

  “Nothing is going on with me and Max. We’re friends.” Friends who sometimes share a bed. And sometimes kiss. And sometimes more. Oh hell, I don’t know whom I’m trying to convince anymore.

  Cade leans forward and rests his elbows on the edge of the table. The way he studies me is almost unnerving. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure.”

  “If you’re not interested in a relationship, why did you agree to come out with me? You don’t strike me as the kind of girl looking for the random hookup.”

  “I’m not!” Except that time with Max.

  “You wanted to send a message to Hallowell, and I was as good a way to do that as any?”

  I grimace. Spelled out like that, it sounds terrible. “It’s not just that.”

  “But that’s part of it.”

  I shift my gaze to the other side of the restaurant. There aren’t many ritzy restaurants in New Hope, but Lenore’s certainly qualifies. Crisp white linen tablecloths, servers who pull out your chair, and a wine selection to die for.

  The place reminds me of a former life. Kent used to treat me to dinners like this one. He loved to feed me, loved to talk about wine and teach me how to distinguish one from another. He also loved fancy craft beer and ridiculously expensive cigars.

  For two years, I lived that life. Then he found out about my past.

  That’s why I’m afraid to let anything happen with Max. I know how much it hurts to make a life with someone and have it taken away. And yet I’m still sleeping there, allowing our connection to strengthen when I know nothing good can come of it. When Cade asked me out, a big part of me was interested in sending Max the message that I wasn’t available. Now I’m not sure that’s a message I want to send.

  “I also agreed because I need your help, but I don’t want my friends to know.” I don’t want Max to know. “I think I’m being stalked.”

  Cade straightens next to me, and I see it in his eyes the moment he stops being my date and becomes Officer Watts. “Tell me.”

  I take another long swallow from my wine. It’s a crisp red that reminds me of Kent and makes my heart ache. “I don’t know for sure,” I say. “But I’ve had this feeling, and then the fire . . .”

  Cade puts his hand over mine. It’s warm and nice, but it’s not like the electric storm that Max’s touch ignites. “How long have you had this ‘feeling’?”

  “A few months.”

  “Nix—”

  “I thought it was in my head, that I was being paranoid.”

  “If your gut warns you you’re being followed, then you need to listen. Tell me about when it started.”

  “A few months ago, I came home and was standing in my foyer when I thought I saw a reflection, but I turned around and he wasn’t there. I looked all over the house, and no one else was there. And after that, when I’d walk alone at night or be alone in my house, I’d get this weird feeling.”

  “Why didn’t you call the police?”

  “Because I thought I was just imagining it.” I shake my head. There’s more behind my reluctance to get help. I’m trying to protect this life from my old one, and asking for help is as good as asking for someone to dig into my past—to bring the nightmare of it into this life. “Then I started getting these weird phone calls where I could hear someone breathing and it sounded like there was fire crackling in the background.”

  “Fire? Jesus, Nix. Did you get a number?”

  I shake my head and set my cell phone on the table in front of him. “The number was always blocked. I don’t know if they were using the same line they used for these texts or a different one.”

  Cade scans the brief exchange then lifts his eyes to mine. “Who the fuck is it, Nix? He talks like he knows you.”

  “I don’t know who it is. I just know I’m afraid, and I think that’s what he wants.”

  “But you think you know,” he says. “That’s why we’re here. You think you know who’s been following you, calling you, who lit that fire in your front yard and sent you these text messages.” When I don’t answer, he stares at me, his eyes hard. “I want to help you, but that’s going to be a fuck of a lot easier if you tell me everything you’ve got, everything your gut has been telling you from the beginning. Who did you see in the mirror that day?”

  “Patrick McCane.” In the name, I hear the click of the chains, shackling me to my past. “He was my boyfriend when I was sixteen.”

  “What can you tell me about Patrick?” Cade asks.

  “He was my first boyfriend. We were together less than a year but it was intense, and he was . . .” I take another sip of wine but stop myself before I drain the glass. I need my wits about me. “He didn’t want to let me go.”

  “When was the last time he was in touch with you?”

  “When I was in medical school. He sent me an email asking if I’d meet up with him. He wanted to talk to me.”

  “And what did you say?”

  I shake my head. That email came at such a shitty time in my life, it didn’t upset me half as much as it should have. “I didn’t reply. I didn’t want to talk to him.”

  “Do you still have that email message?”

  “I don’t even have the email address anymore.”

  “Tell me about your relationship with Patrick,” he says.

  I stare blankly. I decided I could get help without exposing everything, but maybe I was lying to myself.

  “Did he hurt you, Nix?”

  I rest my fingers over the scar on my ribs and nod. “I believed he loved me. Even at the end.” I know how this sounds—like I’m a clichéd domestic violence victim recounting her lover’s abuse. But it’s true. Patrick loved me and he wanted to save me—up until the moment he accepted he couldn’t have me. Then he snapped. He stopped trying to save me and tried to kill me.

  “What’s changed?” Cade asks. “Do you have any idea why he might be after you now?”

  Because I’m happy, and he wants to punish me for that. But I won’t open that can of worms, so I only say, “My birthday is coming.” I make myself meet Cade’s steady gaze. “I don’t understand why this year might be different than the others, but it’s only a few weeks away.”

  “Why is your birthday significant?”

  “I left Patrick on my seventeenth birthday.”

  Cade squeezes my hand. “I’ll help.”

  * * *

  “Just drop me here,” I say as Cade pulls in front of my house. “You don’t have to get out.”

  He shakes his head. “Whatever your reasons for going on this date with me, it was still a date.” He climbs out of the car and comes around to open my door before I’ve pushed it open. “And I fucking walk my dates to the door.”

  I swallow. I could go into my house and pretend that is where I’ll sleep, but
I fed Marmalade beforehand, and I don’t have the energy to face those demons tonight. “Well, okay, but I’m staying at Max’s.”

  He arches a brow. “At Max’s? Is that so?”

  “I told you I was afraid. And he offered.”

  “You could stay with me. I’m offering.”

  I roll my eyes. “I like this arrangement,” I say. “I can check on my cat as often as I need to, and I get to stay close to home.” And close to Max. Which I love, whether I should or not.

  Cade’s lips curl until his grin is what could only be described as shit eating. “Well then, I’ll walk to you Hallowell’s door.”

  “It’s right there,” I say, heading toward the door. “Not necessary.”

  Cade matches me stride for stride. “Maybe not, but if you’re interested in using me to send him the message to back off, let’s take advantage of this moment.”

  I come to a dead stop in the middle of the lawn. “You make it sound like Max is my creepy stalker. He’s not something bad I’m trying to shake off. I just don’t want him tangled up in my mess.”

  “And yet you’re sleeping at his house.” He cocks his head. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “I guess.”

  “If it weren’t for this ‘mess,’ as you call it, would you have been out with Max tonight instead of me?”

  “What-ifs are a nothing but a masochistic waste of energy.” I head for the door and say a silent prayer that Max will be out with the guys.

  “Hey, Cade,” Max calls as he steps out onto his front porch. “What are you doing here?”

  Couldn’t be so lucky.

  Cade grins at me then looks to Max. “Nix and I had dinner at Lenore’s. I was just walking her to the door.”

  The smile falls from Max’s face and he stiffens. Shit.

  Cade climbs the porch steps with me then squeezes my hand. “I guess I won’t push my luck and ask for a kiss,” he says.

  It’s all I can do to keep my eyes off Max. “Good plan.”

  “I’ll call you,” Cade says. He winks, then jogs down the steps and back to his car.