Playing With Fire (Phoenix Fire #3)(33)
Author: Cynthia Eden

From a wound that she’d received at the ranch? But, no, she hadn’t been bleeding by the time they’d gotten to the cabin. Her healing ability had kicked in.

His fingers clenched around the sheets as he remembered the slick, incredibly tight feel of her.

Mine.

His breath came harder and the sheets—burned in his hands. Ashes drifted to the wooden floor.

“You’re not getting away.”

She could be afraid, she could run, but there would be no escape.

His gaze swept the cabin, making sure they’d left nothing of import behind. Then, just to be safe, because he didn’t want any others following them, he let his flames take the old cabin. He walked out as the crackling fire rose up the walls.

There was no other motorcycle. No other transportation. He’d have to run up to the main road, then hitchhike. Dante knew that he didn’t look like the kind of guy most folks would want to pick up.

People just didn’t jump at the chance to give the devil a ride.

No matter. He would make someone pick him up. He had to stop Cassie before she reached Mississippi.

The flames devoured the cabin, and he watched it burn. Watched until only embers remained. Then he waved his hands, quieting the fire.

Only the most powerful of the phoenixes could stir and soothe the fire.

Cain O’Connor wouldn’t have power to match his. If the two of them came face-to-face, Cain would be the one to die.

Phoenixes had a drive to seek dominance. One of their flaws. To dominate was to survive.

When phoenixes got close, they fought.

Until one was dead.

Dante strode toward the narrow highway. He didn’t hear the rumble of the motorcycle’s engine any longer. Cassie was long gone. Riding with no helmet. Even though he knew firsthand just how little damage death could truly do to her, he wanted her to be safe.

She’d been driving far too fast.

He stepped onto the old, broken highway. Cassie shouldn’t drive when she was so upset. It wasn’t good for her.

An engine growled in the distance behind him. The sound was deeper, rougher, than the motorcycle’s had been. Dante paused and looked over his shoulder. In the rising morning light, he could just make out the shape of a big rig, heading steadily toward him. His eyes narrowed, and he headed into the middle of the road.

Then he waited.

The big rig ate up the highway. Its horn blared a warning for him to move.

He wasn’t moving. That big rig was stopping.

Dante held his ground and the big rig came ever closer.

CHAPTER EIGHT

“Authorities are investigatng what appears to be an arson out on Piersview Road. A late night blaze at the ranch there claimed the lives of two dozen people.” The camera zoomed in close on the reporter’s tense face. But, behind him, Cassie could see the body bags being wheeled away from the blackened remains of the ranch.

The ranch that she’d been at last night.

Her eyes squeezed shut.

“Miss? Miss, are you all right?”

It was the waitress’s voice. Cassie had pulled in at the first pit stop she found—a little diner in the middle of nowhere. She’d scavenged in the motorcycle’s saddlebags and found a few bucks. Since she hadn’t eaten in—jeez, she couldn’t even remember when—she’d been desperate for food.

Except the pancakes weren’t exactly sitting well with her.

“Hon, are you sick?”

Heartsick, yes. That blaze . . . all those people . . . had Dante done that?

Her eyes opened, and she forced a false smile for the waitress. “I’m fine, thank you.”

The woman, who looked like she was close to Cassie’s own twenty-nine years, gave her one more worried glance before heading off to refill coffee at the next table.

Cassie’s gaze returned to the TV and to the reporter who was going over the harrowing tale of death and arson.

Two dozen dead.

She’d woken up during the night. Dante hadn’t been beside her. His spot on the bed had been empty. When she’d called out to him, he’d come to her side fast enough but . . .

How long had he been gone from that bed? Long enough to go back to the ranch and let his fire loose?

Maybe she didn’t really know him well at all.

She tossed her precious dollars down on the table and rose on legs that still weren’t quite steady. She eased down the narrow aisle between the tables and pushed against the door, ignoring the little jingle as she hurried outside.

She’d parked the motorcycle on the side of the building, trying to keep it out of sight.

She hadn’t been mentioned on the newscast. Neither had Dante. With Jon dead, no one would be pointing the finger at them, at least, not until his bosses figured out what was happening. That should buy her enough time to cross back into Mississippi.

She rounded the side of the little diner.

“Hello, sweetheart.”

Dante was sitting on the motorcycle.

Cassie shook her head.

He lifted a brow. “It wasn’t very nice to run, was it? To just leave without a word, after all I did for you.”

Two dozen dead.

She didn’t think. Just spun away and leaped forward, hoping to get back around to the diner’s entrance so that she could get help.

But there was never a chance for help. Dante grabbed her, locked one arm around her waist, and he put his other hand over her mouth. “You’re not getting away again.”

She shoved her elbow into his ribs, and the jerk just laughed at her.

She’d actually thought he was the good guy? The one who’d help her save people?

Talk about being delusional. At least her blinders were finally off. Shattered, somewhere in the dirt of the Texas road because yep, they were in Texas. It hadn’t taken her long to figure that one out.

She heard voices. Men. Talking. Coming toward them.

Dante spun her toward him. “If you try to get them to help you, it won’t end well for them.”

Who the hell was this man? She seemed to be looking at a stranger.

“Don’t call out.” With that last warning, he moved his hand from her mouth, and, of course, she wasn’t about to risk any humans. Humans would never be any match for him.

His arms wrapped around her, and he pulled her flush against his body.

His lips took hers.

She was so surprised that she didn’t even move at first. His mouth pressed against hers, and his tongue swept over her lower lip. A shudder went through her, and as much as she wanted to say that shudder was from fear—

It wasn’t.

Her body was far too attuned to his.