Taken by Fire Page 14

  “I can,” she said with a touch of playfulness in her voice that suited her. “I don’t mind playing with that kind of fire.”

  The last time Mel had been happy was when she was a little girl, living in Japan with her mother. Somehow, Greta had given Mel a normal existence—at least, as normal as possible, given the circumstances.

  “You have a great gift,” her mother had said, and though she sounded wistful and sad, there had been a spark of hope in her green eyes. “You must always fight for yourself. Even if all your fighting is done behind the scenes, prepare yourself for the day when you can break free and chase your dreams.”

  Mel hadn’t understood what Greta was saying at the time, but at some point in her teens, when she finally realized that her father would never love her and that he and Itor wanted only to use her, she decided to spend her moments of control doing something for herself. Thanks to her mother, she truly believed she could be happy.

  “I lost my powers, but I’m free. I always had a backup plan.”

  Mel had always had a backup plan too. Which was why she’d taken college courses when she could. Why, when she’d finally had the opportunity, she’d tried to find people who could help her.

  And now she was with them. Oh, she wasn’t dumb enough to believe she was completely off the hook; they needed her, would use her, and if Phoebe pissed them off, they might kill her. But right now, she had a chance to prove herself useful.

  And to breathe easy, if only for a little while.

  Stryker took her to his house, which was on the outskirts of this amazing base, where people seemed so … content. Sure, they’d thrown some harsh words in her direction, but she could handle both those and the hateful looks. She understood them, but if Stryker could come around, so would they, in time.

  Stryker’s house was bigger than she’d expected, and a typical bachelor pad. There were clothes draped over chairs, a few dishes in the sink, and when she wandered into the bedroom, she found the bed unmade.

  Looked like he’d had a rough night. Or like he’d had a woman in there.

  The thought made her queasy. All that breakfast she’d inhaled stirred in her stomach, and she rushed for the sliding glass door that led to a remarkable deck outside.

  “Hey,” he said. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” She looked out at the trees behind his house. “This is all a little overwhelming.” And she really could use a shower and a chance to brush her teeth. She watched him brace his forearms on the railing and stare out into the woods. “Do you share this house … I mean, do you have a, um, girlfriend?”

  He snorted. “No. And could you maybe dial it down a little?”

  For a moment, she frowned, and then she realized her power was seeping out, and a skin of frost was forming on the railing beneath her hands.

  “Dammit. Sorry. I’ve never been like this.” Then again, she’d rarely been in situations that emotionally compromised her. She spent the majority of her days locked in one of Phoebe’s residences with no contact with anyone other than the odd Itor person.

  “We’ll work on it after you get a chance to eat and clean up.”

  “So you’re going to be my trainer? Is there anyone else here who can work with ice? Or fire?”

  He swung around to her, braced his hip on the railing, and crossed his arms over his chest. “We have some pyrokinetics, yes. But none are as powerful as Phoebe. And we don’t have anyone who can work with ice. That’s an extremely rare ability.”

  “No wonder my father worked so hard to get me to come on board with Itor. Well, that and the fact that I used to be the dominant personality.”

  “When was this, exactly?”

  “From birth. I had complete control for twenty hours a day. Phoebe couldn’t barge in no matter what until about the eighteenth hour. There has always been a two-hour period where whoever is in control weakens, and we have to fight to stay. And then, once that period is up, the other person comes out, and they can retreat only voluntarily.”

  “So what happened to make Phoebe dominant?”

  She shrugged. “Itor. I told you that after my mom died, we were taken there. Once Alek figured out that I was useless to them and that Phoebe was more than willing to sell her soul, they developed the drug that allowed her more time in our body. By giving her tiny amounts, and by making my life hell so I didn’t want to be in control, they gradually lengthened the amount of time she was out. Took a couple of years, but eventually she was able to keep control for twelve hours without the drug. She still needs it to hold on longer, but yeah … she’s worked her way from four hours to twelve.”

  “Which is why you mentioned to Dev that you wanted help getting to the point where you were in control most of the time.”

  “Exactly. Because it used to be that way, and I know it can again. And,” she said with a smile, “Itor is developing some sort of weapon or device or something that can destroy a pyrokinetic’s ability permanently. It’s meant to be used against the enemy. I only know about it because I saw some paperwork that Phoebe left out in our apartment. If ACRO can get hold of that, we could render Phoebe harmless.”

  Stryker’s breath hitched. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

  Guilt made her skin tighten. “I probably should have. But I can’t spill everything. I trust you. But your people all want me dead, so I need to have some sort of insurance policy.”

  “Shit.” He thrust his fingers through his hair, and then suddenly, she was in his arms and he was holding her tight. “You shouldn’t have to fear for your life in good-guy territory. This is bullshit.”

  “It’s okay,” she whispered. “I understand. Your boss has to do what’s necessary to protect his people … and pretty much the entire world.”

  Stryker pulled back, just a little, so she had to look up to see his face. His palm cupped her cheek. “You’re remarkable.”

  Hardly. But she didn’t argue. “Do you … do you still see the woman who killed your friend when you look at me?” Probably a stupid question, one that would totally ruin the mood, and when his eyes darkened, her heart sank.

  “How’s this for an answer?” His voice was a husky murmur, his body hard as he hauled her against him and put his lips to hers.

  Instantly, her body flared to life. She kissed him back, aggressively, hungrily, and she felt his surprise in the hitch in his breath. No, she wasn’t letting him take the lead this time.

  Their tongues met, swirling and tangling together as his hand lifted to cup her breast. She nearly sobbed at the exquisite sensation that fired hotter when he squeezed gently while nibbling at her lower lip. Tiny, stinging bites met delicate, feathery caresses and sent curls of honeyed pleasure through her veins.

  Somehow, Stryker had taken command of the kiss after all, his skilled mouth and hands distracting her from her own goal … which had been to show him how much she wanted him. All the intimacy before had been about need in the face of danger. This was about want.

  She let him know with a rolling grind of her pelvis against his. A hum of appreciation broke from his lips, and his hand dropped to the curve of her butt to press her more fully against his arousal.

  “Stryker,” she murmured against his lips. “Make love to me.”

  A low, throaty groan dredged up from his chest. “You want me?”

  She arched against him, practically begging for it. “Yes.”

  “You want my cock inside you?” His kisses drifted up her cheek to her ear. “Right here? Now?”

  She shuddered with desire as his words turned to erotic pictures in her head. “God, yes.”

  His mouth captured hers again, his kiss turning desperate, hot. Aching for him, she slipped her hands between their bodies and fumbled with the button on his BDUs. And then, abruptly, he pushed away with a curse. “I can’t. I’m sorry, Mel, but …”

  Dazed, she stepped back awkwardly, and his hand shot out to catch her elbow. She jerked away, her unslaked lust mixing with confusion
to create a caustic mood. “It’s okay to have sex with me when you need to, but not when you want to? Or maybe you don’t want to?”

  Stryker tensed, becoming a wall of taut muscle as he whirled to slam his palms down on the wood railing. “Trust me,” he said hoarsely. “I want to.”

  She eased up behind him and touched his shoulder. “Then why can’t you? Is it because you’re worried about what your friends will think? No one needs to know.”

  “I’ll know.” Dev’s deep voice from behind her put a knot in her gut. Both she and Stryker swung around to face ACRO’s boss and another man beside him.

  “Dammit, Dev,” Stryker growled. “You could have knocked.”

  “And you could have answered your cell. Oh, wait—you couldn’t, because your tongue was down Melanie’s throat.” As Mel’s face heated, Dev turned to her and gestured to the dark-haired man standing next to him. “This is Ryan Malmstrom. He was a spy inside Itor for a while, but the information he’s got is spotty. I was hoping we could ask you some questions, and between the two of you, we can get some holes filled.”

  Still hot-faced and stinging with embarrassment, she agreed, and they all sat at the patio table. Stryker brought out some beers and chips and salsa, but somehow, what looked like a relaxed atmosphere … wasn’t. She felt like a mouse dining with cats. At least Stryker sat down next to her, and she slid him a grateful smile.

  “First,” Dev said, “I need to know where all Itor bases are.”

  She took a handful of chips and covertly pulled the bowl a little closer. Blue corn, her favorite. “I’m not sure I can identify all of them, but I can tell you what I know.”

  Ryan slapped some papers on the table and clicked a pen. “Go.”

  “There’s a large base in Kiev. A major station on some island in the Pacific. Smaller offices in Madrid, Rome, Gaborone, Botswana, Karachi, Pakistan, and Tokyo.”

  There was a fierce intensity in Ryan’s brown eyes as he unfolded a large sheet of paper and pushed a blueprint at her. Revenge, she thought. He wanted revenge for something, and though she couldn’t be sure, she didn’t think Akbar’s death was all of it.

  “Which facility is this?” he asked.

  Frowning, she traced her finger over the lines. Some of the areas were marked—laboratories, living quarters, etc., but many were followed by a question mark. “I don’t get to see inside the facilities very often …”

  Her finger began to shake as it went over one of the rooms. Alek’s office, which held nothing but bad memories … and her blood. As if Stryker knew how much she’d hated every second in that room, his palm came down on her back and rubbed in slow, soothing strokes. Dev’s keen gaze didn’t miss the gesture, but it was impossible to tell whether he approved or disapproved. And when Stryker’s eyes met Dev’s, instant tension flared up, as if Stryker was daring his boss to say anything.

  “It’s the Australia compound,” she said quickly, hoping to disperse the friction in the air. “Headquarters. How do you have this?”

  “When I was inside Itor, I was able to pull up some vague blueprints, but none of them were labeled.” Ryan twisted the cap off his beer. “From memory, I’ve put this together, but since I was only inside one—the island compound—I didn’t know which this belonged to. Is it accurate?”

  “Mostly.” She popped a chip in her mouth.

  “What can you tell us about it?” Dev’s voice was firm, as if he expected her to answer, and she supposed he had every right, seeing how he’d given her everything she’d asked for.

  “Do you have a map of Australia?” While Ryan pulled a laptop computer out of his bag and fired it up, she munched on a couple more chips and followed them with a swig of beer before she continued. “It’s in the middle of nowhere, disguised as a sheep station. A sheep ranch. It’s a profitable enterprise, run entirely by Itor personnel. There are barns, a huge house, outbuildings, all of which are part of the ranch, but are also used for Itor business and housing agents. The main Itor facility itself is underground.”

  Stryker let out a low whistle. “Damn. No wonder we were never able to find it.”

  “We assumed there was no true headquarters,” Dev said. “We were looking more at the multiple facilities as heads on a hydra.”

  Mel nodded. “Alek does make sure that agents and resources are spread throughout the facilities so that if one is taken down, Itor isn’t crippled. But if you struck the Australia compound and maybe one or two of the others simultaneously, you’ll wreck them.” She fingered the computer screen until she found the area she was looking for. “Here. There’s a town twenty miles from the ranch. It would be a ghost town if not for Itor. There’s a gas station, a small store, a pub, and a diner. On the outskirts are a few houses. Phoebe keeps a residence there. We could use her place as a stage.”

  Dev appeared to consider that, his gaze shifting between the map and her. “Can you get us inside the facility?”

  “I’ll have to pretend to be Phoebe … but yes, I can do it. And if you can convince her that I’m not giving up information, she’ll be easier for you to handle, and we might be able to trick her into cooperating.”

  Dev exchanged glances with Stryker, and she recognized the look. He was wondering if he could trust her, or if she could be leading them into a trap. She nearly kissed Stryker when he gave Dev a single, fierce nod.

  “Tell me about Alek,” Dev said. Commanded, really. “What’s he like?”

  “Ruthless. Cold. Scary.” Sort of like Dev, actually, except people seemed to respect Dev more than fear him.

  “Does he travel much?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve rarely seen him outside headquarters. I think he doesn’t like to leave.”

  “Is he married? Kids?”

  “I don’t think he’s ever been married.” She pulled the bowl of chips even closer, since no one but her was eating them. “No kids except me and Phoebe that I know of.”

  Dev cocked his head, and she squirmed under his penetrating gaze. “What’s your favorite food?”

  She blinked at the sudden change of subject. “Food?”

  “Yes. What do you like to eat?” He glanced at the nearly empty bowl and his tone became laced with wry amusement. “Besides tortilla chips.”

  “I … ah … love pasta. And hamburgers. And pizza and ice cream. Chocolate ice cream. Hate fruit-flavored ice creams, but I’ll eat them if I have to. And I love donuts.” Oh, God, she was so rambling, but food got her all excited. More than a coping mechanism after the years of starvation, it truly had been one of the few joys in her life, one of the rare pleasures in which she could indulge. She loved to eat. “Do you have a donut place nearby? One that makes good crullers? Because it’s really hard to find good crullers.”

  “I love crullers,” Dev murmured. “And I hate fruit ice cream. And walnuts.”

  “Me too!” She smiled, and was shocked to see one corner of Dev’s generous mouth tip up too. “And strawberries. I love them, but they make my lips swell.”

  “They do the same to me,” he said softly.

  “I’ve never met anyone else who had a reaction like that.” She shrugged. “But I haven’t met many people. And it’s not like when I do meet them I ask if they have an allergic reaction to strawberries.” Really, could she ramble any more? No, not likely. But Dev made her nervous, while at the same time he made her feel like she should be comfortable. It was an odd combination, and really unsettling.

  Dev stared at her for so long that once again, she began to squirm. Finally, he stood, and Ryan with him. “I’m having some clothes and toiletries delivered for you. If there’s anything else you need, Stryker will handle it.”

  He left, and she breathed a huge sigh of relief as she sank back against Stryker’s chest. It was weird to have someone to lean on, even weirder to have them circle their arms around you and hold tight because they knew you needed it.

  “I can see why he’s your boss,” she muttered.

  “Why’s that?”


  “Because,” she said, as she stared at Dev’s empty chair, “something about him reminds me a little of Alek.”

  Mel’s life history nearly broke Stryker’s heart. He knew a lot of the men and women at ACRO had shitty family backgrounds, but watching Mel struggle to talk about her food issues on the plane … that had almost been too much for him.

  Hearing that Devlin was like Alek was probably the scariest thing he’d heard in a long time—and in some way, the most comforting. They’d be an even match. But Devlin needed to be better than Alek.

  Stryker thought on that while Mel showered and dressed in the jeans and T-shirt Dev had sent over. When she finished, he allowed himself an indulgent, admiring gaze before speaking. “We should go practice now. Devlin wants me to help you try to control your power.”

  “I’d like that.”

  He collected a few things covertly—including the fire blanket, plus a couple of injections—and they drove over to a spot a few miles from his house.

  It was a perfect area—a big field with a small waterfall on one side.

  She smiled when she saw it. “It’s so pretty. Is this ACRO property?”

  “Yes. We do a lot of impromptu training here.” He looked around—it was early afternoon, which left them plenty of time to work. “It’s quiet today, which is good.”

  They got out of the SUV and walked a couple of yards to a spot that was close enough to some trees.

  “Do you really think I can gain control of my power?” she asked.

  “Yeah, I do. And you get to practice, which is great. With my power, I couldn’t really practice, you know?”

  “Ah, that’s true.”

  “When I was younger, I had to learn control fast. If I didn’t, I’d kill people. That’s how it was explained to me, and you know, I got it together fast.”

  “That’s a lot of guilt to put on a kid.”

  “A dangerous kid,” he corrected her. “Let’s try this with you aiming for those trees. They’re used to upstate New York winters. They can take it, if you don’t go full force with the ice.”

  “If I do, I’ll be out of my power anyway. But you can help me get it back quickly, right?” she asked, the shy note in her voice matching the pink in her cheeks.