Tempting the Fire (21 page)

“Ah, hey, Annika. Wyatt is at work—”

“I’m not here to see Wyatt,” Annika said quickly, before she lost her nerve.

“If you have a minute, I need to talk to you.”

Faith hesitated, confusion and suspicion darkening her expression before she finally stepped aside. “Come on in. Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea?”

The thought of either made Annika’s stomach roll over. “Thanks, no.” She followed Faith to the living room, where a three-month-old baby girl was sleeping in a playpen.

“Don’t worry about waking her,” Faith said in her lilting British accent.

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“She can sleep through anything. She’s just like her dad.”

Annika sank down on the couch. “Is she showing any signs of being telekinetic or biokinetic?”

“Not yet, but both abilities tend to emerge later.” Faith snorted. “Good thing too, because her tantrums are bad enough without her throwing things across the room with her mind.”

“I’ll bet.” An awkward silence stretched, because Annika wasn’t sure what to say next, and clearly, Faith was just as unsure. They really didn’t have a peaceful past. Finally Annika blurted out, “Why did you have a baby?”

Faith’s eyes shot wide, and Annika had to wonder if that had been a rude question. Then she decided she didn’t care. She’d never really been one for subtlety.

“Well,” Faith said slowly, as though she suspected a trick, “I’ve always wanted a family.”

“But, I mean, how are you going to keep working? Aren’t you afraid it’ll screw up your life?”

Faith smiled at the dark-haired infant. “I’d rather be home with her than off getting myself into danger. I still plan to work, but I’ll be more careful about the missions I accept.” She turned back to Annika. “Why? Are you and Creed thinking about a family?”

“No!” Annika lowered her voice and hoped her panic hadn’t come through as blatantly as she thought it had. “It’s just that we’ll have to discuss it at some point, you know?”

“Do you both want kids?”

Annika folded her hands in her lap and looked down, her stomach churning.

“He does. I don’t. But then, the other day, he flipped out when he thought I might have been lax on getting my birth control shot.” She dragged in a long breath, as if that would relieve the tension that had sprung up between her and Creed since then. They hadn’t fought, but they hadn’t talked much over the last couple of days, let alone made love. “I guess I’m just confused. Figured it couldn’t hurt to talk to someone who loves the work as much as I do, but who had a kid.”

“He might be worried that if you don’t want kids, getting pregnant could drive a wedge between you two.”

It already had, and she hadn’t even told Creed she was knocked up.

“Maybe,” Annika said. Faith watched her expectantly and, unnerved, Annika looked away. But the sight of diapers, baby powder and a breast pump didn’t help.

Coming here had been a mistake. “Look, I should go. Thanks for the talk.”

“If you need anything, let me know.” Faith walked her to the door. “Come by anytime.”

Annika’s eyes stung. Stupid hormones. “Yeah,” she rasped. “I will.”

She took off, heading straight for home, where Creed’s hog was parked in the driveway. Nerves rattled her so badly her hands shook. She didn’t know what to do or say—she definitely didn’t want to tell him she was pregnant. Not until she 119

got her mind unscrambled.

Maybe not ever.

He was sitting in front of the TV watching a Seinfeld rerun. “Hey, babe,”

he said.

She walked over to the TV, turned it off and stood in front of it. “We need to talk.”

“Okay…” He reached for the longneck beer on the coffee table. He always made sure he had something in his hands when it looked like things were going to get uncomfortable.

“You said we should talk about kids.”

He nearly choked on his beer. “Yeah. Later.”

“I don’t want to wait until later. You freaked when you thought I was behind on my shot. Why?”

“I just know you don’t want kids.”

“Do you still want them?”

He shoved to his feet. “Look, ah, let’s not talk about this now.”

“We are talking about it now.”

“No, we’re not.” Creed headed off toward the kitchen, but she darted to him, grabbed his arm and swung him around. His elbow struck the bookshelf, knocking over a picture of his dead brother, Oz. Figured. The guy had been a pain in the ass when he was alive, and now that he was dead, he continued to stick his nose in everyone’s business. Somehow, he still communicated with Dev, and he used Creed’s spirit guardian, Kat, to talk to Creed too.

“I want to know what got you freaked out,” she said, ruthlessly shoving Oz from her mind, because he had no say in this. “Do you want kids, or not?”

“Dammit, Annika.” He jammed his fingers through his hair. “Why is this important right now?”

“Stop avoiding the question. Answer me!”

He slammed the beer bottle down on the bookshelf, rattling the whole thing. “Not with you, okay?”

“Oh.” She stumbled back, her brain churning to process what he’d said. He seemed to realize he’d just stepped in it big-time, because his face lost some color.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said quickly, backpedaling. “I don’t want them at all.”

“But … you said before you did.” The room spun a little, and she threw out a hand to brace herself against the wall. “If you were with someone else …”

Creed seized her shoulders and got right in her face, his eyes darkening with his intensity. “Listen to me. I would rather not have kids and be with you than be with anyone else just to have kids.”

“But you want them.” Her voice was barely a whisper.

“Stop it, Annika,” he said, palming one of her cheeks tenderly. “Just stop it.

We’re not having them, so it’s a pointless discussion.”

“What if I change my mind? What if I want kids?”

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“You won’t, and you don’t.” Releasing her, he straightened to his full, imposing height. “Remember how you said you don’t have a maternal bone in your body? How you’d just screw a kid up the way your CIA fake-parents screwed you up? You don’t want to risk it.”

She stifled a bitter laugh. She’d been raised by people who’d given her knives and guns as toys, while Creed had grown up with loving, family-outing-type people, who, if not for the fact that they were ghost hunters, could have been the freaking Cleavers. “You mean you don’t want to risk it.”

“You’re right. I don’t.”

An irrational anger surged through her. “So you don’t trust me to be able to let go of my past and take care of a kid properly? Is that what you’re saying?”

His harsh exhale was a sound of pure frustration. “Why the hell are you turning this around?” His dark eyes narrowed. “This is about Sela, isn’t it? You’re still upset about her.”

He stared at her like she was insane, which was exactly how she felt. She had no idea why she was baiting him like this or what she wanted from him. If he fell to his knees, begging her for a baby and telling her what a great mom she’d be, she’d be just as upset as she was to know he didn’t want a baby with her.

“Sela?” she spat. “She wasn’t even on my mind, but obviously she was on yours. Maybe she would want to give you a baby. You should ask her. Bet she could raise one without totally warping it.”

“Fuck.” Creed threw up his hands. “I give up.” He grabbed his jacket off the back of the couch and headed toward the door. “I’m going for a ride. When I get back, things are going to be normal again, and we’re done talking about kids, got it?”

Before she could answer, he slammed out, leaving her alone with her insanity.

CREED SPED ALONG THE BACK ROADS OF THE ACRO

COMPOUND, ignoring limits and Kat’s screeching at him to slow down.

Sometimes, having a spirit attached to him for life was a real fucking drag.

She’d been there as long as he could remember, along with his tattoos—both of which provided him a certain measure of protection.

Neither would protect him from what Oz had predicted last year.

He tried to tell himself that Ani was simply being moody, that she was still worried about Dev, but neither of those explanations fit.

Ani had frustrated him many times before; typically, it was nothing he couldn’t handle, but hot damn, she’d never been like this before, so freaking emotional.

Pull over, Creed.

This time, he listened to Kat—steered to the side of the road, parked his bike and got off. “Don’t say it, Kat. Don’t you dare say it.”

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She didn’t, simply put her hands on his shoulders in an attempt to calm him. He was shaking.

And Ani was pregnant.

“How did this happen, Kat?” He paused. “Yes, I know how it happened, but how did it happen? She’s on birth control. She doesn’t want kids.”

Fate always has a way of intervening, Creed. You know that better than anyone.

“What am I supposed to do?” he asked, and listened to the deafening silence. “Great—now she decides to shut up.”

He sat on the ground, palms down behind him in the dirt, and he pictured Oz, last year, sitting on his couch, dressed in all black. He’d come back to help Devlin again. Such a long and tortured road for those two men.

At that point, Creed hadn’t a clue that Oz was his biological brother.

If I’d known …

Nothing would have changed, he supposed. It was the reality he’d come to after months of mourning. Oz had always been there for him, no matter what. And he’d given Creed Kat and his tattoos for those times he couldn’t protect his brother alone.

At the time, Creed had thought what Oz had told him had been bad enough.

“So, you and Annika.”

“Yeah, me and Annika,” Creed agreed.

Oz smiled, leaned his head back against the couch. “That’s different, but hell, I guess it works.”

“When it works, it’s damned good.” Creed actually had been readying to go over to Annika’s house when Oz showed up.

“Yeah, I know what you mean.” Oz smiled, but it faded quickly—he leaned forward as if pushed from behind, his eyes went wide and his mouth opened, but no sound came out.

Creed had been around Oz before when he’d had a vision come through.

Oz’s souls—the posse that traveled with him—would send him visions from time to time. Clearly, Oz was seeing something now. He stared at Creed without really seeing him at all.

“I’m here, Oz” was all Creed could say, grabbed the man’s hand. It was useless to try to pull him out of the spell—Oz always said it was like being trapped between time, heaven and hell.

Finally, after ten minutes, Oz sat back, breathing heavily. “I don’t know how to tell you this, but I’ve promised Dev I’m going to stop holding things back from people for their own good,” he started gently. “It’s about you and Annika.”

Fuck. “Tell me everything.”

“I don’t have a lot of detail, it’s all fuzzy—the vision kept showing the same thing over and over again, like it was stuck. Like the universe isn’t even sure how this one could play out.” Oz paused and then, “You can’t get pregnant.”

“Christ, I hope not.”

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Oz stared at him, sobering Creed up again. “There’s something about pregnancy that’s not good for you and Annika. I don’t know if it’s something about you being together, or if it’s only you or only Annika. To be safe, you can’t ever get Ani pregnant, okay? Like, go get sterilized right now, and Annika too.”

“What the hell are you talking about? Half the time Annika and I can’t even be in the same room with each other, let alone have kids together.”

“Someday you’ll want to,” Oz promised. “And you can’t.”

“You’ve got to be a little more specific about the consequences here.”

Oz’s eyes went darker than Creed had ever seen them. “If you get Annika pregnant, one of you could die when the baby’s born.”

Ani hadn’t wanted kids. Ever. It was a no-brainer. And she was always on top of things with her birth control—all the female agents were. It wasn’t so much a part of protocol as it was common fucking sense.

Annika always had an overabundance of common sense. But now she was pregnant with his child. A part of him swelled with pride, with excitement. In spite of her worries, he knew Ani would be a damned good mom.

They’d have a son or daughter. And one of them wouldn’t be around to see the kid grow up.

You’ve got to go back to her, Kat prodded. She’s confused. Angry.

“I know, Kat, I know.” But he didn’t move, kept his ass on the freezing cold ground and called out to Devlin instead.

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It was late morning—they still hadn’t arrived at camp, but not for lack of trying.

Logan had forced himself to move fast and sure over the past four hours; years of Special Forces mental conditioning helped him overcome an awful lot.

Except, of course, the total mechanical failure of over half his body.

The jungle was a trying place under the best of circumstances—wet and dark and hot and full of enough red herrings to throw even the best of men off their game. He knew he’d have to maintain full mission mode to make it back to camp.

“Let’s go. Keep behind me and keep up,” he’d told Sela right before they’d left the relative safety of the cave and ventured out into the jungle. She’d snorted softly at his words, and she’d been keeping up with him.

God, she’d been through hell. The story she’d told him—stories—vibrated through his head and could easily prompt an angry rage. If any of the men who’d hurt her were put in front of him now … Well, they’d have a better chance with the chupa.

He cut some of the branches and vines so she’d have an easier path through the thickest of the foliage—his skin was full of cuts and scratches and bites, but he was better able to handle it, thanks to his bioware.

He heard Sela’s harsh breaths behind him—and when he turned to check on her, he noted she was sweating nearly as badly as he was, but she hadn’t complained once. He’d been about to ask if she needed to take a break, when Sela tugged at the back of his shirt.

“Did you hear that?”

He turned to face her—her eyes were wide and she was pointing behind them.

“I think we’re being followed,” she mouthed, and shit, with his body running on half strength and no comms to call to camp, this wasn’t going to be a good thing at all.