Souls Of Fire: Fireborn Part 21

But the b.a.s.t.a.r.d just wouldn't fall.

I hit the carpet yet again, sucked in a shuddery breath, and half turned. Saw his fist arcing toward me and flung myself desperately out of the way. The punch missed, but the heavy rings on his fingers gouged my skin. It hurt. G.o.d, how it hurt. But I thrust the pain aside and scrambled away from him.

Hands grabbed my right leg and dragged me back. I half yelped, then twisted around, kicking at his face with my free leg. It missed and he laughed, the sound fierce and cold. His gaze met mine, and all I saw was death.

Flames flared across my fingertips. They contained little in the way of heat, but it was all I had left, so I flung them at him. His eyes went wide; then he released me and threw himself out of their way. Another roar escaped his lips as he came down on the knee I'd broken; then the flames. .h.i.t him, and he screamed again as they s.h.i.+mmered up his legs.

I didn't wait for him to realize they contained no heat. I lunged at him, slipped my hand under the cuff of his jeans, and grabbed his ankle. The minute my fingers wrapped around his flesh, the fires within responded, sucking in the heat of him, feeding on it. I drank it fast, robbing him of warmth and energy, until his skin was gray and s.h.i.+vers racked his body. It wasn't enough; I wanted-needed-more, but if I took it all, I'd kill him. And as desperately appealing as that thought was, we needed answers more.

I unlocked my fingers and peeled them away from his flesh, leaving the imprint of my hand on his skin-a lasting reminder of our fight-then took a deep, shuddering breath. It did little to quell the urge to finish what I'd started.

But as my breathing calmed, I became aware of the sounds. Grunts and the smack of flesh against flesh.

The werewolf hadn't come alone.

Jackson.

I scrambled to my feet, lunged for the biggest piece of splintered wood I could manage, then ran for the door. Jackson fought a man who was little more than a shadow. The two of them appeared evenly matched, going blow for blow, their bodies shuddering under the impact of each hit. Jackson had the mother of a bruise forming under his eye and slashes along his cheeks and arms. The vamp obviously wasn't afraid to use his nails.

I took a step toward them. The vamp hit Jackson hard, sending him staggering, then spun and ran for me. He was lightning fast, and I really had no time to do anything more than raise the wood.

He didn't see it. He just ran straight into it.

The jagged edges rammed into his body just below his ribs, and blue fire instantly exploded from the wound, consuming the wood as it rolled across his body.

He screamed, burned, blackened. Fell.

I stepped back and rubbed my arms, my stomach rolling as the pungent scent of burning flesh and meat filled the air. He stopped screaming, stopped writhing, but still the fire consumed him, until there was nothing left but ashes and the cindered remains of the carpet underneath him. At least it was a quick death, and that was probably more than he deserved.

"d.a.m.n it, Em," Jackson growled. "I wanted to question him."

My gaze shot to his. "It wasn't like I meant to do that. It was more luck and instinct than thought."

"Yeah, I know. It's just d.a.m.n annoying that every step forward in this case is followed by two steps back."

"In this particular case, it's only one step. The other one is still alive."

"Really? Well done, you." He thrust a bloodied hand through his hair. "We'd better check Amanda before we interrogate him, though. You want to make that call to the paramedics?"

I followed him into the bedroom to retrieve my phone. Jackson glanced at the werewolf and then back at me. "d.a.m.n, that's a mountain, not a wolf. Very well done, you."

"The b.a.s.t.a.r.d very nearly got the better of me." I bent to pick up my phone, but that just made the blood oozing from my nose flow faster, and half the screen was covered in an instant. I walked over to the bedside table and grabbed some tissues.

"He didn't, and that's all that matters."

I guess. I shoved the tissues up my nose to help stop the bleeding, then called an ambulance.

"How is she?" I asked when I'd finished.

"She's still alive." He tossed me a handkerchief. "It's clean. You might want to use it on your hand."

I quickly wrapped it around the cut, but it didn't do a whole lot. "Let's hope she remains that way. If the wolf can't tell us much, she could be our only hope."

"I can't imagine your ex is going to allow us to talk to her once he finds out about our adventures here."

He was right. Sam would close out this avenue of investigation just as surely as he'd closed off Morretti. He might not use a drug to do it, but he didn't need to. All he had to do was place Amanda under protective custody.

"We could always ring the police rather than him. It might only delay the inevitable confrontation, but it would at least give us some time to question her."

"It's worth a shot. But when you do talk to the b.a.s.t.a.r.d again, give him a f.u.c.king earful about drugging us. Not having our fires could have gotten us both killed today."

I raised an eyebrow. "And do you think he'd care?"

"Probably not." He walked around the bed. "Ring the cops. I'll tie up our thug and do a quick search through the house."

"It might be a good idea to drag him into another room. If the paramedics arrive before his healing fully kicks in, they'll want to treat the b.a.s.t.a.r.d."

And while I wasn't against sc.u.m getting medical help when they needed it, after what he'd helped do to Amanda Wilson, a little bit of pain and suffering was the least he deserved. Besides, his wounds were already showing signs of healing.

"That is another good idea."

"I'm full of them today," I said, voice dry.

"My usual response to a statement like that is 'full of s.h.i.+t, more likely.'" He sent a cheeky grin my way. "However, I sincerely desire you in my bed tonight, so I shall restrain the urge."

"Oh, I'm so glad to hear it."

He laughed, then grabbed the wolf's arms and none too gently dragged him into the next room. While he tied up our captive with some wire coat hangers he found in the closet-which, under normal circ.u.mstances, wouldn't have held him for long-I called the cops. With that done, we searched Amanda's house.

Unsurprisingly, we didn't find anything useful.

As the distant wail of the approaching ambulance began to cut through the air, Jackson said, "We're out of time. Let's go question that wolf."

I followed him into the back bedroom. The wolf hadn't moved, but his skin had lost its gray pallor and his breathing seemed easier. If he wasn't yet conscious, he was d.a.m.n close to it.

Jackson grabbed a fistful of the wolf's s.h.i.+rt, pulled him partially upright, then slapped his face. Hard. The sound reverberated through the stillness. "Stop foxing, you furry b.a.s.t.a.r.d."

The wolf made a low sound that seemed to rumble up from the depths of his boots. It wasn't a particularly dangerous sound, but that he was conscious enough to even do it meant he was a whole lot stronger than I'd presumed. I could have drained him more. Should have drained him more. I crossed my arms and tried to ignore the somewhat angry thought.

After another slap from Jackson, the wolf's eyes opened into slits and he all but growled, "What?"

"Who sent you here?" Jackson said, voice sharp.

"Sindi-" The wolf's voice petered out, and he coughed. Blood speckled his lips. I wondered if the cause was internal damage or Jackson's slap, but I didn't really care either way.

Jackson shook him. "The sindicati?"

The wolf groaned. Jackson's expression showed very little in the way of pity. "Why would the sindicati want Amanda Wilson dead?"

"Connected-"

"She's working for them?" I cut in, though I wasn't entirely surprised. If Amanda had been an ordinary black widow, surely she would have aimed for millionaires rather than researchers. She certainly had the looks to snag one. And researchers, while very well paid, didn't make bundles of money, especially those who worked for the military or the government. Or at least, my boss hadn't.

Unless, of course, it was the thrill of the chase she enjoyed more than anything else.

"Not just them. Subcontractor." His answer this time was stronger. Clearer.

Angrier.

Jackson's gaze met mine. "A black widow who subcontracts her services? That's a new one."

It certainly was. I returned my gaze to the werewolf. "So the sindicati employed her to keep tabs on Wilson?"

"And report on his research, yeah." He took a shuddering breath, and I could almost see the tide of strength flush through his body.

"But if that's the case," I began, letting sparks dance across my fingertips. It couldn't hurt to remind him he wasn't the only nonhuman in the room, even if the sparks were as dangerous as I got right now. "Why were you sent here to kill her?"

If the look the werewolf gave me was any indication, I was dead meat the next time we met. "Because Wilson's dead and they have no further use for her."

"But why not give her a new victim?" Jackson asked. "Surely she's too valuable an a.s.set to waste?"

"Don't ask me-I'm just a subcontractor. You're lucky I know as much as I do."

"Meaning we obviously need to talk to the man who employed you-his name?"

The wolf hesitated. Jackson shook him. Hard. Breath hissed through the wolf's clenched teeth and his eyes narrowed even further-and yet again promised death.

After a moment, he said, "Henry Morretti."

"Surprise, surprise," I muttered.

Jackson's expression was as grim as mine undoubtedly was. "And how were you supposed to contact Morretti after the job had been done?"

"Phone call. Payment is cash, sent by courier."

Which was all very clinical and efficient. No face-to-face contact, no paper trails to trace. I was betting even the courier who delivered the cash wouldn't tell us much-especially given we were dealing with vamps who could easily erase or rearrange memories. It made me wonder whether Henry Morretti even existed. It was more than possible it was just a cover name.

"I've given you what you want," the big wolf growled. "The least you can do is let me go before the cops get here."

Jackson looked at me, eyebrow raised. "What do you think?"

I paused, as if considering the request, then shook my head.

"I totally agree."

And with that, Jackson threw a punch so forceful the wolf's head snapped back and his body went limp. Jackson checked his pulse, made a satisfied-sounding grunt, then released his grip on the wolf's s.h.i.+rt. The big man hit the carpet with a heavy thump. Jackson stepped over his legs and met my gaze. "The ambulance is almost here. It might be worth you going to the hospital with Amanda, just in case she wakes and feels the urge to talk."

"I'm not family, so they're not likely to let me sit in her room with her." Besides, I hated hospitals and tended to avoid them unless there was absolutely no other choice.

"Lie and say you are. It's not like they'll ask you for ID. They rarely do in emergencies." He handed me his car keys. "Besides, your hand needs st.i.tches if the state of the handkerchief is anything to go by."

I glanced down to see blood dripping from the sodden handkerchief. "What are you going to do? Wait for the cops to arrive?"

"I'd better, if only for the sake of the cops. Wounded or not, our wolf could take out two humans without blinking an eyelid." He c.o.c.ked his head, expression intent. "There are two sirens approaching. The cops were obviously close."

And wasn't Sam going to be happy that we'd rung the police rather than him. By the same token, our reluctance shouldn't really come as a surprise given what he'd done to us. "I'll give you a call if there's any news."

Jackson nodded. I headed for the front door to let the paramedics and the cops in.

Several hours later, sporting a freshly st.i.tched and bandaged hand, I somehow managed to convince the hospital staff I was Amanda's sister and was allowed into her treatment room.

"How is she?" I asked, as the nurse checked Amanda's charts and made some notes.

"She's been stabilized and given blood, and we've treated the nasty bite on her neck, but otherwise, she's fine. She might want to stop playing around with vampires, though. This was a close call."

It should have been more than close. If Jackson and I had been a few minutes later, our black widow would have been well and truly dead. "If she's got any brains, she will after this."

"I'd be making her if she were my sister. I wouldn't let any of them d.a.m.n leeches near the neck of someone I loved." The nurse's smile was grim. "She's just lucky you found her in time."

"That she was."

The nurse hung the clipboard back on the end of her bed. "I'll be back in twenty to check her again."

Once the nurse had left, I walked over to the lone chair sitting to the right of the bed and dug my phone out of my purse as I sat down. I hit Jackson's number, intending to give him an update, then realized there was no reception in this part of the hospital. I cursed softly and moved the phone around in the vague hope it might make a difference. Still nothing.

"And who the h.e.l.l might you be?" Amanda's voice was low, but it held a surprising amount of strength for someone who had been hours-if not minutes-from death.

"I'm the person who saved your life, as you no doubt heard the nurse say." I relaxed back into the chair and pushed the record b.u.t.ton on my phone as I put it away. "And you really should be more careful about who you go to bed with."

The confusion that flickered across her face actually seemed genuine. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, you shouldn't go to bed with a vampire and a werewolf. Especially when you've reached the end of your usefulness to your employer."

"I'm hardly likely to have bedded a man, let alone a wolf and a vamp. That wouldn't have-" She cut herself off with a cough.

"Wouldn't have looked good to the cops who are still investigating your husband's death," I finished for her. "How long will it take them to make the black widow connection, do you think?"

"I have no idea what you mean," she said, with such sincerity that I was almost tempted to believe her. Almost.

I crossed my legs and regarded her steadily for several seconds. If she was at all unnerved, she didn't show it. Eventually, I said, "I noticed you ignored my jibe about your employer. That might not be wise, given what's happened."

"Look, as I've already said, I have no idea what you're talking about. If you don't get out of here, I'm going to call security."

"You do that," I agreed. "And the minute I'm outside, I'll ring Henry Morretti and tell him exactly where you are. I bet this time he'll send a better grade of executioner."

Her eyebrows rose and her expression remained one of mild confusion. She should have been an actress rather than a black widow-she could have won an Academy Award with performances like this. "I still have no idea what you're talking about."