Taken by Fire (10 page)

She could fall in love with you, Stryker
.

And she could also win an Academy Award.

Yeah, after this assignment he needed some downtime and lots of it. He’d tell that to Devlin as soon as he got out of this hellhole. “We need to get out of here. That’s why I did this,” he said dumbly, even though she was staring at him now like he was an idiot because he was repeating himself. And he was. Repeating himself and an idiot. Idiot wrapped in a moron. An idiot burrito.

She couldn’t get dressed fast enough. Neither could he; he checked his pockets even though he knew they’d stripped him of every possible weapon when he’d been passed out. Well, every weapon except the kind he’d been born with, and they had to know he was a danger.

Granted, an earthquake would bring the entire building down on them, so that wasn’t an option. Still, he touched the walls as if testing the structure.

Mel fastened her jeans. “Most of these buildings can withstand a small quake.”

“It wouldn’t stop at just this building,” he said regretfully.

She was staring at him again and then she surprised him by saying, “Your gift—it’s a tough one too.”

He wanted to tell her that she didn’t know dick about his gift, but dammit all to hell, she did. “Yeah, so? I don’t need a therapy session.”

“I probably do,” she muttered.

“Can you just ice these assholes—just a little—and try to save something for later?”

“I doubt it.”

“Try,” he said fiercely. “Because you can keep making excuses and feeling sorry for yourself that for your other half you’ve got a killer bitch who deserves to rot in hell, or you can
try to be responsible for the powers you do control. Own your shit, Mel.”

“Own my shit,” she murmured with a half smile. “I might have that put on a T-shirt.”

“I’ll buy it for you if we ever get the fuck out of this place.”

Oh, they were going to get out of this place. Damn skippy they were.

Mel eyed the door, and the steel-reinforced mechanism she assumed was the lock. She’d never used her power to freeze metal to the point of brittleness, wasn’t sure it would even work.

But she had to get out of here, out of this enclosed space with a man who made her heart pound with both terror and desire, and how screwed up was that? She needed a shrink.

And a hamburger.

“Stand back,” she told Stryker.

A muscle in his jaw twitched, as though her command grated on a nerve, but he moved to the rear of the crate, and wisely he didn’t touch the metal.

His cheeks were still flushed from the sex, and for some reason, that gave her a neat little thrill.

Definitely needed the shrink. And really, a hamburger would improve her whole outlook and mood.

Taking a deep breath, she fired up her gift. Strangely, she always
got hot when she used her power, though the few people who had touched her while she used it said her skin felt cold. That had been a long time ago, when she was a kid who had been too afraid of her father to argue about using her gift.

“You gonna do something,” Stryker drawled, “or are we going to wait for the metal to rust out?”

“You’re hilarious.” Cheeks hot, this time from Stryker’s smackdown, she put her hand on the sliding lock. Her heart pounded, and her mouth went dry. How much power to use? She hadn’t been lying when she’d told Stryker she had little control. If she let loose, she could blast herself right out of juice and have none left to handle the bad guys. But if she tried to measure it, she could waste all her power without doing enough damage to the metal.

Nerves whacking out, she dropped her hand.

“Jesus,” Stryker snapped. “What now?”

“Forgive me,” she shot back. “I’m afraid I’ll blow my wad on this one thing and have nothing left to fight the bad guys, and no offense, but I don’t feel like getting fucked in a crate again.” She spun around, marched up to him, and jammed her finger in his chest. “So unless you have some candles and wine in your pocket to at least make it a little pleasant, you’ll shut the hell up and let me freak out for a minute.”

His crystal eyes narrowed, and shit, she’d gone too far. She never acted out like this. But something about this man got her back up, and wasn’t that the craziest thing about all of this? She was finally standing up to a man, and against the one person who would just as soon break her neck as breathe on her.

“It was pleasant enough for you to get off,” he growled, “so don’t play the injured party here.”

“And you are? I didn’t notice you having any difficulty getting it up.”

He opened his mouth, but before he could respond with some cutting remark, the creak of a door opening had them both pivoting toward the sound.

Through the bars, Mel could make out a man in beige slacks and a long-sleeved black T-shirt approaching. He stopped a few feet short of the crate, stood behind the giant wall of Plexiglas-like material.

“Don’t try anything, Phoebe.” His thin lips quirked in a cocky smile. He had the upper hand, and he was damned proud of himself. “This shield is fireproof. And the metal in the crate is heat resistant. You’re trapped.”

Dammit. Mel had to let Phoebe out to deal with this guy. No doubt Mel would have to come back out to actually get them free, but she couldn’t bluff her way through negotiations with someone she didn’t even know.

“And you,” the man said to Stryker, “I wouldn’t expect ACRO to rescue you anytime soon. Yes, I know who you are. I just don’t know what to do with you yet. Ransom you to ACRO or sell you to Itor.” He shrugged. “I could also kill you.”

“Try it, asshole.” Stryker leaned against the crate, crossed his arms over his broad chest, and looked utterly bored.

Time to let Phoebe out.

T
hey were still in the damned crate. Phoebe snapped her fingers, let a spark flick onto the floor, and okay, at least Mel wasn’t a total dipshit. She’d screwed the ACRO agent to get their powers back. But they were still in the crate, and Maurice, that coward of an Itor agent, was standing behind what was no doubt a flameproof shield. Clearly, her co-worker wasn’t here to rescue her.

“What’s this about, Maurice? I know Alek didn’t order you to bring me in.” Alek would have called like a normal person, and even if she was out of touch, he wouldn’t worry unless she didn’t show for the big event he had planned—one that was going to rock the world to its core.

Maurice laughed. Which made the wrinkles around his dark eyes even more pronounced. “Stupid bitch. This is about the arms deal. The one where you cheated the SN out of millions.”

The SN—Solitary Nuclei—had their roots in Greek terrorism, but they were really nothing more than a group of ACRO, Itor, and TAG rejects who were desperately trying to be relevant. “And why do you care what I’ve done to the SN?” Before the words were even out of her mouth, she knew. Maurice was either working for them, or he was actually in charge of them. “You traitor,” she bit out. “Why? After all Alek has done for you—”

“Done for me?” Maurice slammed his fist into the plastic. “I’ve been at his side for twenty years, and for what? So he can allow a conniving whore like you to take over the agency.”

“So that’s what this is about? Jealousy?” She’d known Maurice harbored resentment for the way Alek treated her, the way he’d groomed her with an eye for taking over Itor. But no way could Maurice claim that Alek showed her favoritism, because he hadn’t. Not openly. He didn’t want anyone to know—yet—that she was his daughter. Doing so would make her a target for his enemies … both outside the agency, and inside.

So no, with the exception of only a couple of scientists and trusted henchmen who had been sworn to secrecy, no one was aware that she was related to Alek, or that she had a pain-in-the-ass weakling of a twin. As far as anyone inside Itor knew, her father was a civilian one-night stand her mother’d had, and Alek had taken Phoebe in when her mother was killed, because she’d shown incredible promise with her fire-gift.

And no one inside Itor besides Alek knew how she had to recharge her gift. Everyone pretty much just figured she was a sex addict. Not that any of the men complained.

Maurice certainly hadn’t.

“Jealous?” Maurice shoved his fingers through dark hair shot with gray. “I’m furious!”

“So you started up your little rogue agency? For what? You can’t hope to challenge Itor.”

“I don’t need to challenge Itor. I just need to make life hell for Alek. Killing you will do that.”

Stryker laughed. “Dude, stand in line. She’s mine to kill.”

Maurice arched an eyebrow. “Then why were you helping her?”

“My boss wants her. Preferably alive so we can torture information out of her, but either way, it’s all good.”

Maurice seemed to almost buy that. “And you fucked her … why?”

“Why not?” Stryker dragged his heavy-lidded gaze from her feet to her head, but not before lingering on her breasts, which tightened at his perusal. Damn, Phoebe had never coveted anything of Mel’s, but for once, she felt a twinge of envy that her idiot sister had gotten Stryker between her legs. “Look at her.”

“I’ve done more than look,” Maurice said. “Several times.” He shot her a lecherous sneer. “You still have those bite marks on your ass?”

“Why, yes,” she chirped. “You still have a three-inch dick?”

Maurice’s sneer turned into a furious snarl. “Where’s the money, Phoebe? Tell me where the five million is, and I’ll let you live.”

She snorted. “No you won’t. You can’t afford for me to tell Alek about your double-cross. And with me dead, Alek will move you up in the agency.”

“You’ll tell me, Phoebe, if I have to torture it out of you.” He spun on his heel and slammed out of the room.

“He’s such an asshole,” she sighed, as she turned to Stryker, who still wore that lazy, couldn’t-give-a-shit expression, but his eyes drilled into her with utter contempt.

“I want Mel back.”

“I’ll get us out of this. I know Maurice, and I’m far more powerful than that simpering—”

“Now!”
Stryker met her in the middle of the crate and clamped his hands on her shoulders. “The crate is heat-resistant, so only Mel can get us out of here. Do it before that psycho comes back to torture us both.”

“Not into pain, huh?”

“Oh,” he purred, “I’m into pain.
Your
pain, so send Mel back before I show you just how much I’m into it.”

“And what’s to keep me from roasting you like a pig on a spit right now?”

“If you fry me, you’ll never get out of here. Melanie will listen to me, and she can get through the metal, but she needs me to help her do it.”

He was probably right, but no problem. Smiling, she went up on her toes to brush her lips across his. “I can’t wait to take you down. And I will.”

M
elanie was starting to despise this popping-in-and-out crap. She really hated how every time she came back into her body Stryker was staring at her like he wanted to rip her throat out.

“What … what happened?”

“Mel?”

“Yeah.”

His hands tightened on her shoulders. “Do you have bite wounds on your ass?”

She blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Bite wounds,” he ground out. “Do you have them? Bruises?”

“Ah … well, yes.” They were hard to see, right at the juncture of the swell of her butt and the backs of her thighs. They’d hurt like hell, though. “I mean, they’ve mostly healed. Why?”

Stryker shoved away from her. “No reason. Get us out of here.”

God, he was moody. “Yes, sir.” She put her hand on the door, but before she could power up her gift, she heard him shift behind her.

“Does that happen often?” His voice was gruff, but quiet.

“Does what happen often? Bite marks? Bruises? Lash welts? Burns?” She shrugged. “I’m used to it.” She thought he might have cursed, but she’d engaged her power full blast, the buzz zipping
through her body and ears, blocking out all sounds. Beneath her palm, the metal began to develop a light skin of frost, and then thicker streaks of ice zigzagged out from her hand, until the entire door turned white.

Cracks split the frame, and little pops like gunfire filled the room. Quickly, she pulled back her power, feeling like most of her battery was drained.

“There’s still some left, I think,” she breathed. Excited that she’d actually been able to control herself—if only a little—she grinned and whirled around. “I did it!”

The expression on Stryker’s face wiped her smile away in an instant. Sure, she’d kind of forgotten that he wasn’t exactly an ally, so naturally, he wouldn’t be as thrilled about her small victory as she was.

But what she hadn’t expected was the tempest in his gaze, two thunderstorms, one full of loathing, the other full of hunger, and both battling as he stared at her. His hands were fisted at his sides, his thick arousal creating a noticeable bulge against the fly of his cargo pants, and yeah, she’d definitely forgotten that the use of elemental powers got him going.

Thing was, the way he was looking at her got her going a little too. Heat flooded her veins, her skin tingled, and despite the fact that they’d just had sex, she grew achy between her legs. When he came at her, she wasn’t sure if he was going to kill her or fuck her, but she braced herself for either.