Taken by Fire Page 23

  Too bad she couldn’t outrun herself.

  How could he? How could he have—

  She skidded to a halt in the kitchen, her lungs seizing, her mind jittery with what she now recognized as a cocaine high. There was a note on the counter, written in Phoebe’s elegant script, sitting on top of her college texts.

  I contacted your college’s dean and told them I was you. Said that my guilt over cheating on several of my exams was overwhelming. Guess what, you little whore? You’ve been kicked out.

  Mel’s knees buckled, and she barely caught herself on the counter before she went down. And then … oh, no. No, no, no!

  Her mother’s ring, the only thing she had left of their mother, the only possession Mel owned for herself, was a melted, twisted lump of gold next to the books.

  Phoebe had taken everything from her. The man she loved, her fantasy degree, and her only link to their mother.

  The pain in her chest turned to a hollow, cold, empty space as she reached numbly for one of the knives in the wood block on the counter. She wasn’t even sure what she intended to do with it, but her drugged and emotionally overloaded brain was no longer rational.

  “Mel!” Stryker’s voice came from behind her. She loved the way he talked, the deep, resonating rumble. When he was making love, it went even deeper, breathless. Had he used that seductive voice on Phoebe?

  Slowly, she turned around. “She’s taken everything from me,” she whispered. “There’s nothing left.”

  Stryker, bare-chested and pants still partially unzipped, held up his hands in a placating gesture. His voice was low, soothing, like a police negotiator trying to talk someone off a ledge. “You have me. Just put down the knife.”

  “You were fucking my sister!” she screamed. “For what? More information about Itor? For kicks? I know you hate her, but maybe you were punishing her? Maybe she used her powers and got you all worked up?” God, she wanted to throw up. She wanted Phoebe to die, and she put the knife to her throat.

  “That’s not what happened. Please, Mel, put the knife down. You don’t need to do this.”

  She gave a bitter laugh. “You don’t get it, do you? This isn’t about killing myself. It’s about killing her. Finally, for once, I’m going to take something from her, the way she’s taken everything from me.”

  “She didn’t take me away from you.” He tilted his wrists to show her the bleeding, raw circles around them. “Go look at the bed. She cuffed me. She shoved some sort of drug down my throat to make me hard. She forced herself on me, Mel. I swear to you, I didn’t want it. I swear, I wouldn’t have come. She couldn’t have made me do that.”

  Horror replaced the anger inside her, and the nausea that threatened a moment ago became a reality. Dropping the blade, she dove for the sink and fought to keep her lunch down. Phoebe had raped him. Dear, sweet God, could this get any worse? Could her sister possibly be more vile?

  Stryker’s hand came down on her hair and gathered it back, and with his other hand, he stroked her back gently. How could he possibly be so nice to her after what had been done to him? And after she’d thought the worst of him.

  “I’m sorry,” she rasped. “I’m so sorry.”

  He started the water, wet a paper towel, and eased her away from the sink to wipe her mouth. “It’s not your fault.”

  “If I’d been stronger, if I’d just fought to come out sooner—”

  “Shh.” He pressed his finger to her lips. “We’re not going to play that. We won, okay? She didn’t get what she wanted.”

  Mel blinked, but that didn’t stop the tears from spilling. Stryker gathered her against him and held her tight. “I can’t do this anymore.” She clung to him, but this would be the last time. “I—I thought we could work around her. I thought we could be together, and I could have some semblance of normalcy.”

  “You can. Once we’re back at ACRO—”

  “No.” Inhaling deeply, she prepared herself for what had to be said. And done. “When we get back, you’re going to lock me up and throw away the key.”

  Stryker went taut. “I can’t do that.”

  “You can, and you will. Phoebe will never stop trying to hurt you and everyone around you. I can’t be responsible for that. You forgave me for what happened to Akbar, but our relationship can’t survive another death.” She pulled away, and her heart pounded against her rib cage in protest. “For what it’s worth, you’ve given me the happiest days of my life. You probably don’t want to hear this, but … I love you.”

  “Mel …” Stryker’s throat worked on a hard swallow. “I won’t let you do this. We can work it out. I know we can.”

  He didn’t say he loved her back. Not that she’d expected him to. How could he love someone who was basically the same person who murdered his friend and violated him? And even if he could, she wasn’t going to put him or anyone else at risk from Phoebe.

  “My mind is made up.” Closing her eyes, she turned away. “But promise me that if, somehow, Phoebe ever tries to hurt you or anyone else, you won’t hold back because of me.”

  “Mel—”

  “Promise me! Kill her, Stryker. If she hurts anyone, kill her, or I swear to you, I will.”

  Silence stretched, and for a long time, she didn’t think he’d answer. When he did, his voice was broken. “Damn you,” he said gruffly. “Damn you for making me do this.”

  “Is that a promise?”

  “Yeah.”

  Relief made her entire body sag. Stryker caught her, and as he hauled her to him, he put his mouth to her ear. “I’m going to wait for you to change your mind.”

  She didn’t say it, but he had to know.

  She would never change her mind.

  The marks around Stryker’s wrists and ankles would heal quickly. The memories of Phoebe taking him against his will, not so much, but the fact that Mel was pulling back from him because of it made him furious.

  The Mel who made him promise to kill her was uncompromising. Unafraid.

  God, he loved her. Knew it with all his heart … and still couldn’t tell her so.

  The most frustrating part was, he didn’t know why.

  “You don’t need to atone for her sins,” he told her fiercely, the promise he’d just made to her burning a hole in his gut.

  She pulled out of his embrace, grabbed a blanket off the back of the sofa, and wrapped it around her naked body, hiding it from his view. “Unfortunately, I do.”

  “So you’re just going to give up on having a life of your own? You’re giving up on us? Don’t you realize that you’re doing to yourself what your father did to you?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “With the food—how your father and Phoebe starved you for years. You’re going to stop yourself from being with me—you’re going to let them win, dammit. They want you to be unhappy and you’re letting them.”

  “I can’t let Phoebe hurt you again. I’m keeping you safe,” she said stubbornly.

  “You’re not keeping me safe at all, Mel. This, what’s happening between us, it was supposed to happen this way. It’s not some goddamned coincidence.”

  “You were hunting me,” she pointed out.

  “I was hunting Phoebe,” he corrected her. “I didn’t believe you existed. And try as you might, you can’t fight fate. Trust me. I tried.”

  She frowned. “What do you mean?”

  He sighed, wondered if he should’ve told her this before. Wondered if it would’ve made any goddamned difference—if it would now. “Oz made a prediction to me a long time ago.”

  “Wait, Oz? Have I met him?”

  “No. He was Dev’s partner for a long time. And Creed’s brother—the guy with all the tats you saw in the cafeteria the other day?” She nodded and he continued. “Oz was killed a little while ago. He sacrificed himself to save Dev’s life. Before that, he was an integral part of ACRO. And he was kind of … freaky. He had this thing he called the spirit posse—he could communicate with the dead; h
e was psychic and he made a lot of predictions.”

  She looked slightly skeptical, but she was also part of the world of secret agents, so she wouldn’t be in total disbelief. “Did his predictions always come true?”

  “Oz was always right.” The man had passed his predictions on matter-of-factly, but they were never given in haste or lightly. Stryker was pretty sure there was a lot more Oz knew but never let on.

  But the virgin thing … well, Stryker guessed that was Oz’s way of letting him know that control would be important in more ways than one.

  And he’d blown it the first time he’d been with Mel. He looked at her now, thought about the first time he’d had sex with her, her words to him.

  Funny … but I always thought my first time might be more … well, not hateful.

  The thing was, even if he’d known, he wasn’t sure it would’ve been different that time. Couldn’t have been. He still wouldn’t have been able to look her in the eye then. But things were different now. And Mel was threatening to take it away.

  “What was the prediction, exactly—about us?” She asked hesitantly, as if she didn’t want to hear anything that might change her mind about keeping them apart.

  That was his goal and he prayed it would work. “He said I’d marry a virgin. I told him he was off his rocker. And then, when we had sex … Christ, you told me it was your first time.”

  Her eyes widened at the memory.

  “I was so goddamned rough with you.” He stared at the floor. “I was an asshole.”

  Mel walked over to him then, touched his cheek, made him look her in the eye. “You weren’t gentle, no, but it was good, Stryker. Really.”

  “You’re just trying to make me feel better.” Stryker shook his head.

  “What’s the big deal about virgins?”

  “They’re a lot of work … need a lot of handling. I always went for the more experienced women because I don’t have that kind of patience. I didn’t anyway. You changed all of that.”

  “Why did you wait to tell me this?” she asked, after a moment of hesitation.

  “I don’t know. It’s a little freaky. And I didn’t want you to think that it was only happening because of what Oz said.”

  Just because it’s fated doesn’t mean it’s not real, Oz would say. It’s actually just the opposite.

  “I think I would’ve liked Oz,” she said, stroking Stryker’s reddened wrist with her thumb. “So, my brother lost the love of his life.”

  “A great love, for sure.” Stryker paused. “He and Gabe seem to be doing okay.”

  “Love comes at a cost—and seemingly against all odds—for an operative,” Mel mused.

  “I guess that’s why it feels so damned good.” He unzipped his pants, let them fall to the ground. The next casualty was her blanket and then he wrapped his arms around her instead. Carried her to the bathroom and started the shower.

  “Stryker, please—”

  “I’m not letting you go without a fight, dammit. We’re going to wash that bitch off us, and then we’re going to make it right.”

  She struggled, but she was no match for him. And he knew she wouldn’t use her powers against him, so he held her fast until he got them under the warm spray, pushed her back against the tile wall and released her after he shut the glass door behind him. He grabbed the body wash and squirted it on the puff he found. Gently, he washed her, lathering her breasts, her belly … then reached down between her legs.

  She stood silently, letting him have his way. And when he was done, she took the puff from him and did the same to him, focusing on his chest, his neck … and finally, she brought her hands to his cock and washed him with tender care. And then they stood under the water together, letting the suds run off their bodies and disappear down the drain.

  A fresh start. Symbolic.

  He’d been hard in her hands, and now he was throbbing against her. “I want you, Mel.”

  She smiled wanly. “The drug …”

  “This has nothing to do with the drug Phoebe gave me and everything to do with you,” he told her. “You need to believe that, Mel. I’ve never fucking lied to you, and I’m not about to start now.”

  As if to prove it, he picked her up, forcing her to wrap her legs around him as his cock probed her sex. With her back once again against the tile, he penetrated her in a long, slow stroke that made them both groan.

  “So right,” he murmured into her ear. “You can’t stop me from doing this to you—from wanting you. You can’t deny us, Mel, no matter how hard you try.”

  “Stryker … please.” She buried her head against his shoulder as he drove into her, her wet heat like a tight fist, milking him to orgasm. And he needed one—needed to have it inside of her.

  “With me, Mel. Come with me.” He fingered her clit and she gasped. She was so close … and when she began to contract around him, he went over the edge as well, spurting in a hot rush inside her.

  Devlin and his agents returned to ACRO in the early morning hours. First, they were attended to by medical—most of their injuries had been taken care of on the long jet ride home, but there was medication to be prescribed, X rays to be taken. Healing to be done.

  Luckily, TAG had sent their biokinetic healer to help out, and though she wasn’t even a tenth as powerful as Faith or Wyatt, the Finnish woman had been able to almost completely heal Devlin’s ribs. It made for much easier breathing and it stopped Gabriel from fussing over him like crazy. But there were still cuts and bruises, because the fight had not been an easy one for any of them.

  After that, there was miles of paperwork to catch up on, various other fires that Marlena and the others left behind had dealt with as best they could—and had done a damned fine job, for the most part.

  Still, it was nice to know Dev was needed.

  Old man, my ass. He scoffed at Ender’s words, because he’d taken this op on and he’d won. They’d all won. ACRO had come out on top … and the miserable bastard who’d fathered him was dead and in ACRO’s morgue, where he belonged.

  As for Mel and Phoebe … well, he’d deal with Phoebe. Find a way for Mel to take over the body permanently. And then spend time showing her that she was safe.

  So yes, things on the ACRO front were good. Now, faced with more decisions of a different sort, he paced the first floor of his house and wondered if he could really deliver on the promise he’d made before the battle with Alek and Itor had begun.

  It had worked out this time. But there would be other battles …

  “Cut this shit, Devlin—it’s called life. You told Gabe you loved him and it was all right, you can’t go back on your promise.” Oz’s voice drifted up from behind him.

  He turned and started with, “Oz, what the hell …” Trailed off when he saw the man—really saw him.

  Oz shrugged. “I called in a favor.”

  Oz was there, truly there, although he was still semi-corporeal. And when he put his lips onto Dev’s, Dev felt the familiar thrill.

  His mind also went directly to Gabriel.

  “Good, that’s good, Devlin,” Oz told him. “He’s the right one for you—always has been. I was simply a stand-in for him.”

  “You were never just a stand-in to me.” Dev heard the tears in his voice … saw them in Oz’s eyes. They’d been to hell and back a number of times. Some days, Dev still couldn’t believe he was gone.

  “Thanks, Dev.” Oz paused. “I couldn’t be there to help you in the final battle … and this is the last time I can visit. I’ve been granted peace. I’d like to give you the same thing.”

  Devlin sat and listened while Oz laid out his plan, wondering how he could ever truly say good-bye to this man, all the while knowing he would have to.

  * * *

  The message had simply said My house, ten P.M.

  So like Devlin it had made Gabe’s heart tug.

  Gabe had been debriefed for the entire day following his return from Australia. Now he noted that the other excedos looked at
him with a newfound respect that he liked. He finally felt as though he’d earned it.

  He’d never take his training lightly again. His job—ACRO—was too important to let that slide. He’d been granted a chance he’d never thought he’d have, and he wasn’t going to throw it away. Any of it.

  When he went to Devlin’s house, he found the door open. Called out and heard Devlin telling him to come inside and lock up behind him.

  Gabe did, walked upstairs and into the bedroom to see white candles everywhere. It looked like a church and Dev was cursing about wax being everywhere and all of this is bullshit and don’t expect it every time I want to fuck.

  Gabe shut him up with a kiss. Hard and fast, tongues dueling until Gabe could barely breathe. Even then, he didn’t want to stop, threaded his fingers through Dev’s spiky hair and held the man there as their cocks ground together.

  The friction was killing him. Fuck. “I’m going to come in my damned pants,” he breathed when he pulled away from Devlin.

  The man simply licked his lips, and Gabe almost came right then and there. With a deep breath, he kept it together, because he wanted all of this to last.

  “Why now?”

  “Why not now?” was Dev’s answer. Gabe looked at the candles and finally caught sight of the bags piled in the corner. His bags.

  His bags in Devlin’s house.

  “I’d have put them away for you, but I wouldn’t want to be accused of being controlling.” Dev’s eyes twinkled.

  “I think this kind of counts as controlling.”

  “It’s what you wanted. It’s what I wanted. Life’s too damned short, okay?”

  Gabe felt emotion clog his throat, couldn’t form the words, and so he simply nodded and let Devlin hug him and they remained there together.

  But they weren’t alone.

  No, the ghost of the past was with them—except this time, it was in the form of the dark-haired man sitting at the edge of the bed.

  “Oz,” he said, and Dev stared at Gabe, asked, “You can see him?”

  Gabe nodded. “He watches us sometimes.” He bit his lower lip as Oz reached out and caressed Dev’s neck. Smiling, Dev closed his eyes. “Shit, you can feel that?”