Fire and Flame

by Anya Breton

  “Mama? It’s Seb.” He looked up at Sara and then to Brent. “Someone wants to talk to you.”

  When the boy tried to hand the phone to Sara, she gestured at Brent. Brent took hold of it, inhaled a long breath, and then set about the business of being priest.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “She leaves those kids alone,” Sara exclaimed once they were safely in her Lexus. “For hours on end! Sebastian can’t be more than ten yet he’s babysitting those little girls every time their mother has to work the night shift. It’s not right.”

  “No,” Brent agreed in a maddeningly calm voice.

  Sara’s teeth snapped closed with an audible click. “Do you even care?”

  Again he sent her an unreadable look along his shoulder. What the hell did it mean?

  She shouldn’t care. There were more important things to worry about. Sara opened her mouth to lambaste him.

  He cut her off, “Yes, Sara. I care.”

  His intent gaze implied he wasn’t talking about the children they’d recently left with Perry. Her cheeks flushed. Sara shifted her attention to the unconscious witches in the back seat. The Ena men were slumped atop each other like guys she’d seen at many a fraternity party. Brent hadn’t bothered putting a seat belt on them. Sara could only hope they didn’t get pulled over for a traffic violation. They wouldn’t be able to explain the welts on the witches’ heads.

  What was he going to do with the three of them?

  Sara feared she already knew the answer. Two had actively tried to kill him. The third had attacked her. And all three had been involved in holding innocent kids hostage. He couldn’t afford to show mercy to any of them without being called weak. Sara was worried she wasn’t more upset about it.

  Brent broke the short silence. “But I care more about how you could have been killed while you interrogated that guy.” He pronounced the operative word “kill” with an emphatic enunciation that proved exactly how much he cared about it. “You should have bound him before you tried to get any information out of him.”

  Sara focused on the window, avoiding the grave set of his features. She hadn’t thought to bring anything to bind a guy. Fire fights weren’t exactly her thing.

  Soon her thoughts went to something unrelated.

  Brent had kissed her in front of his friends—in front of Vanessa. Had he kissed the hoyden the moment Vanessa had reached the Lexus too? Maybe Brent had kissed them both for luck.

  Sara didn’t want to think about it.

  “I’ll make sure Grace gets some help,” he continued when she’d failed to respond.

  Sara’s head jerked toward him. Surprise loosened her features in what she imagined was an unattractive fashion. He met it with what looked to be a hopeful softening of his usually hard green eyes.

  “That would be nice,” she allowed. The local priest should have handled the situation already but clearly he wasn’t doing his job.

  Again she looked out the window to avoid wondering if he was thinking about Vanessa. And again he broke the silence first.

  “Derrick is going to check the house for bombs. And then he’s going to stay until I’m finished.” Brent paused before adding, “Unless you’d rather Colin or Perry stay instead?”

  She shook her head quickly, watching him from the corner of her eye. “I don’t think Sebastian would like Derrick. As far as the other, that’s your call. You’re high priest.”

  His lips twisted into either a half smile or a grimace. A grimace surely because the Brent she knew didn’t smile.

  They were quiet for the remainder of the ride down the beltway. Brent’s phone vibrated in the center console. He picked it up so he could hand it to her.

  “Can you read that to me?”

  He was unwilling to text and drive at the same time? She supposed that was mildly impressive.

  “Derrick says the Escalade is gone and that no one is near the house. He’s checking the exterior now.” Sara set the phone aside. “What Escalade?”

  “There was an Escalade parked down the street when I left. I thought it was a little suspicious so I asked Derrick to look for it when he went over.”

  “Oh.” Sara’s answer was dull. For all of her talk about the foolishness of dividing Brent’s men, it hadn’t occurred to her someone might have been posted outside the house.

  They returned to silence on the trip to McKenna House. Derrick’s Hummer was parked in the driveway when they arrived. He appeared around the back porch when Brent opened the Lexus’s door.

  “Outside is clean,” Derrick announced. He held up a palm like he expected someone to toss a baseball his way. “Keys?”

  Brent threw them across.

  The idea a stranger might sneak into her house and install a bomb made her blood go cold. And that Derrick was willing to go in to check… She hadn’t thought him capable of that sort of selflessness. What was it about Brent that kept his friends loyal to him?

  Derrick did an initial check on the front door for triggers. He disappeared into the house once he’d deemed it clear. She didn’t dare relax her back.

  “Sara.”

  She made a quarter turn toward Brent. Her brows lifted expectantly though she said nothing.

  “I want to talk to you later.” The words rang grim in Sara’s ears. But there was an almost vulnerable set to his eyes. “When I get back.” He gestured to the three witches slumped in the back of her Lexus.

  “Okay,” Sara replied as lightly as she could manage.

  “I may be very late,” he warned with a small duck of his head.

  Sara’s heart skipped when she thought of him knocking on her door in the middle of the night. Would he ask her down into the office?

  Either way, she knew how she needed to answer. “Okay.”

  ****

  Did she understand the implication of what she’d agreed to? Brent wanted to revel in the warmth that had suffused his extremities merely thinking she’d consented to a late night visit. But he also wanted to know if she really had.

  He could put her on the spot by asking her, thus forcing a definite agreement from her—risking she’d decline him. Or he could wait until he returned and risk she change her mind while he was gone.

  What if she was waiting in the kitchen when he got home? Brent nearly laughed when he imagined taking her on the kitchen island. And then his temperature lifted when he imagined taking her on the kitchen island.

  How had he managed to avoid this for so long?

  Brent reluctantly guided her inside after Derrick arrived to tell them he’d run every conceivable test on the kitchen and that it was at least safe to come in where their foes wouldn’t see them standing on the driveway. There he got a good look at the island he’d recently imagined. Someone had left breadcrumbs on the smooth surface. Brent grabbed a wet wipe to clean it. Sara sent him a bemused look that nearly made him laugh again.

  “Man,” Derrick called from the office. “It’s going to be a long time before I’ve combed the entire place. You need to take care of the guys in the back seat.”

  He did. But he didn’t want to leave Sara.

  She nodded in agreement. “We can’t risk having someone call the cops because of the unconscious guys in the car.”

  “But—”

  Her blue eyes narrowed into icy slivers even as she interrupted him. “I won’t be helpless, Brent.”

  “I know you won’t.”

  She wasn’t helpless. But she wasn’t operating at the same level as their foes. On the other hand, she wasn’t operating on the same plane. Her unconventional brand of combat meant they didn’t know how to defend against her.

  Brent inhaled a rough sigh. “I want you to run if you hear anything suspicious in here. Okay?”

  She rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “No, I’m going to just stand stupidly while the house goes up around me.”

  Her sarcasm was typical but he found it didn’t particularly bother him now. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. You call me if
you need anything.”

  Sara nodded for him while crossing her arms in front of her chest. Was that nervousness? He made himself go to the door rather than kiss her like he’d wanted to. Until they had that chat tonight, he didn’t feel like he could touch her.

  She said nothing until he’d opened the door and then he heard her softly call after him. “Be careful, Brent.”

  Softer still he replied, “You too, princess.”

  ****

  Sara slammed into her bedroom an hour later. Seconds ago Derrick had informed her the upstairs rooms were clear, and that he’d personally enjoyed his time scouring her white castle. But his irritating comments weren’t why she was furious.

  Brent had called her princess! When he knew damn well she despised the nickname. How could he have done it? Clearly he hadn’t been truthful when he’d said he knew she wasn’t helpless. And after the way she’d handled herself at the Anala’s house, he still thought she was useless.

  She dropped onto the bed. With her fingers dug into her Boo bear’s matted fur, she slowly brought her furious inhalations down to steady breaths. Sara drew her lower lip between her teeth.

  Brent’s opinion meant twice as much now as it had before she’d returned from school. His calling her princess weeks ago would have irritated her but it would have been status quo. She’d foolishly thought things had changed between them.

  All she had to do was recall whatever was going on between them was also going on between Brent and Vanessa. She’d keep the thought in her head during all future dealings.

  Maybe, just maybe, it would be enough to stop her from doing anything reckless like last night.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Becoming regional high priest was both the worst and best thing that had ever happened to Brent. Among the worst things was the loss of the most important figure in his life. And among the best was he now had a new important figure in his life. But being high priest was keeping him from that.

  And it had put her in danger.

  Brent’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel of Sara’s Lexus as he glared in the mirror at the unconscious witches. They’d been tranquilized and were in no danger of attacking him yet they symbolized the danger of his new position. He shook his head to push away the dark thoughts. What he’d have to do shortly would be plenty dark without allowing concerns of the future to impede.

  He didn’t like not knowing if the Escalade that had parked down the road from McKenna House had been more foes. Or who the witches had called when his party of five had burst onto the scene at Grace’s house. Above all, he didn’t like leaving Sara with anyone but himself. These three needed to be dealt with quickly so he could get back to her.

  Brent had been deep in thought. So much so that he’d barely noted the pickup following six car lengths back on the trip to Fintan’s rural cottage. Its presence didn’t alarm him until he’d pulled into the cottage’s driveway and the truck slowed to an idling stop at the mouth of the pebbled stretch.

  The driver’s side window wheeled opened. A small glow appeared in the darkened compartment of the tinted truck's cabin. Brent reacted on pure instinct alone. He had nanoseconds to pop his door and jump to the ground from the moving vehicle.

  A massive fireball followed by two smaller ones impacted into the Lexus's back window before his body hit the ground. If the flare of flames engulfing the interior hadn't been enough to total the car, the ensuing crash into a broad tree was.

  Sara was going to be rip shit.

  Brent rolled over, gingerly checking his limbs for damage from the fall. And then he went to work with a counter attack. He wished Sara were here to syphon for him. With the influx of power she gave, he would have been able to form a blast capable of destroying the truck. As it were, he’d have to rely on the chance they hadn’t had time to regroup.

  Unfortunately, what he didn’t count on was that they’d be cowards. Rather than fighting a sole witch, they rolled up the window as they gunned the engine forward. Brent arrived at the end of the pebble drive as they faded into the distance at a roaring speed. No license plate was visible. And the model, a black Ford F-150, wasn’t exactly rare.

  Lethargically Brent viewed the burning heap of steel that had once been Sara’s beloved car. He lifted his phone to his ear, warning the others of the truck, and then called for the Cleaners.

  The Ena brood cared little for each other if they were willing to sacrifice three of their own for a shot at him. There would be little loss to the world when they were eliminated.

  ****

  An unfamiliar car pulled into the driveway in the dead of night. The door opened with a whine of hinges that needed oil. And then the metal clunked shut. Worried another Ena witch had turned up to give them trouble, Sara focused on the noises out her far window. The driver did nothing to quiet the footsteps tapping on the wooden deck.

  Her fingers clenched the pillow tight when the side door opened. But rather than an attack, male witches greeted each other heartily in the kitchen below. Both were recognizable. Though it was very early in the morning, Derrick’s deep timbre meant he’d stayed up to wait on Brent. And Brent’s steady delivery was easy to pick out even when muffled.

  Sara glanced at the clock. Two in the morning. Three hours ago she’d led Derrick to believe she’d gone to bed. And she had. She’d simply been unable to sleep.

  Sara had thought she’d rest once Brent was home safe. But now that he was here she would be unable to sleep until… Until when? Until she’d seen him with her own eyes and made certain he was safe? Or until he’d come upstairs for that talk he’d threatened earlier?

  Murmurs through the floor implied the pair was catching up on the night’s events. Sara clutched the pillow tighter. The waiting was awful. It had been awful before Brent had arrived and somehow it was just as awful now that he was home.

  She should be relieved. In reality her dread was every bit as great as it had been during the hours of waiting. Now she was anxious for a different reason.

  Someone mounted the stairs, quietly creaking the loose board. Her heart skipped a beat. He was coming. Should she feign sleep?

  No. She wouldn’t feign anything. Sara sat up in the bed with the pillow clasped to her chest.

  The soft knock on the door would have been barely audible if she hadn’t been listening for it. Brent twisted the knob without waiting for her to call out. He stepped inside the dark room, quickly closing the door.

  His clothing appeared to be fresh without a tear or burn on the soft fabric. Perhaps the witches hadn’t given him any trouble? They had been unconscious.

  So then what had kept him?

  “You’re awake,” he whispered when he saw her seated in bed.

  “Yes,” she agreed as she examined him in the dark.

  “I…” His voice trailed off uneasily. Both hands slashed through his hair. “I have bad news.”

  Vanessa was pregnant and they needed the master bedroom to be together. Sara’s teeth slammed down angrily at the mere thought.

  Brent exhaled a quick breath. “I was attacked at the cottage in Franklin. They blew up your car.”

  Considering what she’d thought he’d say, his actual bad news seemed strangely…less. Nonetheless, Brent hurried his explanation, “But we’ll get you a new one tomorrow. A better one. I got what I could out of it but the radio was fried so I couldn’t get your CD.”

  The way his pitch had lifted when he’d said “a better one” struck her as funny. He could have been in her car when it had exploded. She would have been far more upset then.

  Her amusement made it easy to reply, “Okay.”

  “Okay?”

  “I didn’t have much of value in the car beyond the car itself.”

  Brent started for her, pausing at the foot of her bed. He settled on the edge in a sliver of moonlight. “The attackers got away. But their attack killed the three unconscious witches in the Lexus.”

  His black hair glistened in the moonlight. Cu
rious how shiny it was but it was attractive.

  “They made it easy for you then I guess,” she murmured.

  “I promise we’ll get you a better car as soon as possible. Whatever you want. I shouldn’t have been driving it,” he told her in a believably contrite voice.

  “It could hold the most people.”

  “I should buy myself something bigger that will hold people so I won’t have to use yours when something like this happens.”

  “Hopefully something like this won’t happen in the future.”

  Wishful thinking, but she’d been too slow to realize it before speaking the words. Brent would have to solidify his place as regional high priest, proving he could hold it. Only then would the violence stop. That would take years.

  “Sara.” His voice softened.

  The hairs on her arms lifted at the breathy sound. He was going to utter something serious.

  “The only thing I could think of today was that I wanted you to be safe. But I’m the reason you’re in danger.”

  “The Ena witch that tried to get above his station is why I’m in danger,” she quickly refuted.

  Brent didn’t argue. Instead, he continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “You’ll be in danger so long as you’re around me. But…I don’t want you to leave.”

  She stared at the dark shapes of his eyes.

  He didn’t want her to leave? Was this because of the duty Fintan had demanded they complete?

  When he said nothing else, she forced her lips open. “Why?”

  Brent crawled over the bed until he sat inches from her. His fingers traversed the darkness and cupped her chin. Gently he tilted her face, positioning it for his kiss.

  His lips formed over hers with steady pressure. Heat flared out all along her arms and down her body to the junction of her thighs. Sara immediately recalled how amazing being with Brent could be. And she immediately wanted it.

  But she’d promised herself she’d remember she wasn’t the only one he’d been intimate with.