Mercy Burns (26 page)

“Probably.”

“And you don’t care?” I said, squinting across at him.

“Something like that.”

And he thought
I
was crazy? “Well, I’m not going to walk into anything blind,” I said, and reached back to grab my bag, which I’d spotted earlier on the backseat. Once I’d located the phone, I punched in Leith’s number.

“Who are you phoning?” Damon asked.

“A friend,” I said, then added when Leith answered, “Hey, babe, I need some help again.”

“You are going to end up owing me a fortune in food,” he said, voice heavy yet hinting at amusement.

“Dinner for a year is worth the price, trust me.”

“You say that now, but you’ll be complaining when you actually have to foot the bill. What can I do for you?”

“I need you to find out what you can about a club called Deca Dent. Oh, and if you can also check out a guy called Hannish Valorn for me, I’ll be eternally grateful.” I paused, then added, “But tread carefully on that one—he’s the Nevada king’s son.”

“Delightful,” he said drily. “I’m gathering you need this ASAP?”

I grinned at the exasperation in his voice. “Of course.”

“I’ll see what I can do. Oh, and Janelle says to tell Death he’s not only a fool, but he needs an attitude adjustment.”

“Several people have already told him that, including me.”

“I bet you have,” Leith said, amusement in his voice. “Oh, and there’s no death certificate for Seth Knightly. But there’s been no activity in any of his bank accounts and he hasn’t worked or paid taxes, as far as I can tell. For all intents and purposes, the man has disappeared and might well be dead.”

Which didn’t really help solve the matter one way or another. “So there’s no rumor as to why he disappeared?”

“Nothing concrete.” He hesitated. “But I did hear a whisper that he was involved in some land transaction that went sour, and had to leave the state fast.”

Instinct prickled. Maybe it was coincidence that his disappearance might have been due to a land dispute, and maybe it wasn’t. Either way, it was a rumor worth chasing.

“I gather you’re hunting up information on that?”

“Of course.”

He said it like I’d offended him, and I grinned. “Thanks.”

“No probs. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can, Mercy.”

“Who was that?” Damon said as I hung up and shoved the phone back into my pocket.

His voice sounded a little tight, and surprise ran through me. “A friend, as I said. He runs Phoenix Investigations, a very successful PI agency.”

“And this Janelle he mentioned?”

“You were listening? That’s not very polite.”

“If you wanted to keep the conversation private, you should not have had it in the car.”

Again there was a touch of tightness in his voice, and I shifted to look at him. “You’re annoyed.”

“Of course I’m annoyed. I was just called a fool by someone I don’t even know.”

I grinned. “Janelle’s a psychic who works for Phoenix. I think she’s older than the moon itself, and she’s very forthcoming with her opinions.”

“Being old is no excuse for rudeness.”

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. “Oh yes it is. Just ask her, if you ever happen to meet her.”

“It’s probably lucky I won’t, given her opinion of me.”

I gave him a quizzical look. “Why is this bugging you so?”

“Because it does,” he muttered, voice as dark as his expression. “You think this Leith fellow will come through with the information?”

Once again, he was changing the subject rather than discussing what was going on in his mind. It was
frustrating, but if he thought I was going to give up, he was badly mistaken. I might not have much time with him, but I was going to use it to get past the barrier, to see and understand the core of the man. “Leith usually comes through with whatever I need.”

“So you’re close?”

“Yes.”

He flexed his fingers against the steering wheel and it suddenly hit me. Death wasn’t happy with the realization that there were other men in my life. And as realizations went,
that
was pretty damn good, if only because it was further evidence that he wasn’t as immune to me as he was pretending.

“Is that a problem for you?” I added, a hint of my amusement bubbling through in my voice.

His expression seemed to darken, and I hadn’t thought that was possible. “Of course it isn’t. I just wanted to know if he could be trusted.”

“He’s been helping me find leads on this case, and I’d trust him with my life.”

“Why?”

I raised my eyebrows. “Why does it matter?”

“Because you said earlier that you never trust anyone, and yet you’d trust this man with your life.”

“I trust you, too. Which, according to you, makes me strange.”

“That’s true, too.”

This time a smile teased his lips, breaking the tension and the darkness shadowing his features. But what he said was true enough. It
was
odd that I’d trusted him so readily, yet there was just something about the man that made me feel safe. And that was rare when it came to fire dragons and me—although
given my history with them, the actual attraction I felt wasn’t surprising. I did tend to have a thing for bad boys.

“So where are we headed now? Until we find out where Deca Dent is, we’re sort of stuck.”

“As it turns out, you’re not the only one with friends.” The last of his tension slipped away under the growing warmth of his smile. “And mine also have the capacity to use the Internet.”

“So much for Death being a lone ranger who cares for no one.”

“Friends are not loved ones. There is a difference.”

“How would you know if you’ve never had any loved ones?”

“I had a mother.”

“Had?” I glanced at him, and caught the hint of sadness that washed across his features. “She’s dead?”

“Yes,” he said, and then, frustratingly, shifted the topic again. “How do you feel about a cooked lunch?”

“That depends on where we’re having it.”

“It happens to be a pretty apartment overlooking a certain club of interest.”

I couldn’t help smiling. “And would you happen to know the person who owns this apartment?”

“No, but I’m sure they won’t mind us making use of their facilities for a while.”

“And where might they be while we’re doing this?”

“The south of France, according to the neighbors.”

“Convenient.”

“Totally.” He glanced at me. “I’ll cook.”

“This morning you said you couldn’t cook.”

“No, I said I couldn’t do pancakes.” He glanced at me. “There’s coffee on the floor at the back.”

I twisted around in the seat and saw two cups sitting in a take-out tray. “You took time to grab coffee? When there’s who knows how many bad guys coming after us?”

“The bad-guy ranks are currently two down. If we keep picking them off, the odds will be on our side sooner or later.”

His voice was philosophical, but it wasn’t something I wanted to think about. I might be determined to find the people behind the cleansings and Rainey’s death, but I really hadn’t gone as far as thinking what I’d actually do once I’d found them.

Perhaps deep down I’d never really thought that I would. “Is there nothing that scares you?”

He considered the question for what seemed an inordinate amount of time, then simply said, “Yes.”

I raised my eyebrows. “What?”

His gaze met mine, but those dark depths were totally unreadable. Once again I had no idea what this man was thinking or feeling, and in some ways, that was even more scary than the situation we’d found ourselves in.

“
You
scare me,” he answered at last.

“Me?” I said, surprise making my voice little more than a squeak. “Why the hell would I scare you?”

He hesitated for a moment, then said, “Because you don’t react as expected.”

I had a strange feeling that wasn’t what he’d actually meant, but I also knew he wouldn’t admit to anything else. Not yet, anyway.

I
leaned back in the kitchen chair and stared out the dust-covered windows. Damon’s idea of pretty was vastly different from mine—no surprise, I suppose, given he apparently found plain brown draman extremely attractive.

The apartment was part of an old confectionery factory, and it was still very industrial in feel. Old bricks, hard steel, bright chrome, and polished concrete were the flavor of the day.

But it was directly opposite Deca Dent, and provided the perfect refuge to spy on the club. Not that there was anything or anyone to spy on at the moment. The place was as deserted as an old cemetery.

Of course, we still did regular perimeter checks, just in case they used the rear entrance.

“Would you like any more steak?” Damon asked.

He was sitting opposite me, but his bare feet were caressing the bottom of my leg and there was a heated,
hungry look in his eyes. The meal he’d cooked had catered to one hunger; now the other had come to the fore. Even after we’d spent a good percentage of the afternoon twined around each other, exploring and caressing and loving until exhaustion hit and the meal was ready.

But as much as I wanted nothing more than to touch and be touched, I also hungered to be something other than
just
another sexual partner. It might never amount to anything permanent, but I wanted to be remembered as more than just another woman in a long line of them.

So I ignored the simmering desire, and simply said, “If I eat anything else, I’ll burst.”

“What about some more red?”

I shook my head and watched him pour wine into his glass, then said, “Tell me, why do you see yourself as little more than a killer?”

“Because that’s what I do and that’s all I am.”

“But it’s not.” There was a slight tic in the muscles along his jawline. This man really
didn’t
like talking about himself. Was it was part of his training or did it go far deeper? “You like to keep people at arm’s length, don’t you?”

His expression closed over once again. “Why would you think that?”

“Because any normal person would be terrified by the statement.”

“You weren’t.”

“We’ve already established that I’m far from normal.” My voice was dry, and amusement briefly tugged the corners of his mouth. “Besides, the situation we were in was far from normal. I needed to get out of
that place and if I had to use a killer to do that, then I damn well would.”

“That still doesn’t make your statement about me true.”

“Of course it does. You’re too at ease with calling yourself that, so you’ve done it more than once. Add to that the fact that you’ve already said you have no intention of ever getting emotionally involved, and your emotionally barren little world remains nice and secure.”

“You really do like making snap judgments about people you barely know, don’t you?”

“It’s not a snap judgment. And besides, after last night and this afternoon, you can’t exactly say we’re strangers anymore.”

“It makes us
intimate
strangers, Mercy, nothing more.”

My smile felt tight. “You do realize your strategy is doomed to failure, don’t you?”

He raised an eyebrow. “And why would you think that?”

“Because you are neither cold nor unfeeling, Damon, and sooner or later someone
will
break through that wall you’ve raised around your heart.”

“I come from a long line of muerte who lost their heads, not their hearts. I expect to be no different.”

“Then you’re selling yourself short. You are not your forefathers.”

“And you,” he said gently, “are reading entirely too much into my actions. I will not fall, Mercy, no matter how great the attraction between us.”

I snorted derisively. “Oh, never fear, I have no illusions when it comes to you and
me
. You’ve expressed
your views well enough when it comes to draman and their usefulness.”

“It’s not because you’re draman.” He reached out and wrapped his hands around mine, squeezing lightly. “I don’t see you as draman. I don’t think I ever have, which is why I was so surprised when you told me you were.”

“That’s not the point—”

“But it is. I won’t have you believing something that isn’t true.”

“Then what
is
your great truth?” I muttered, suddenly wishing I hadn’t gotten into this whole subject. It didn’t really matter which of us was right, because there was one truth that
wasn’t
going to change. The magic we’d felt every time we came together—the intimacy and the possibilities—would
not
be explored once this case was solved. No matter what, he would walk away, and it would probably hurt a whole lot more then than the thought did now.

Because no matter what he said, there was something between us. Something that was worth exploring.

“You were afraid today when you saw that car, weren’t you?”

I frowned. “Of course, but—”

“Well,” he continued relentlessly, “imagine living with that sort of fear daily. Imagine living with me and not knowing at the end of each day whether I’d walk in the door at the end of it.”

“If you love someone, you love the whole of them. And that includes what they are and what they do.”

“It’s easy to say that when you’re not living the situation day in, day out.”

“People do.”

“Yes, and lots of marriages break up over it, too. That’s a statistical fact.”

“The difference between your statistics and what we’re discussing here is two simple words
—soul mate
. When you meet her, Damon, your dragon will not let her go.”

When it came to dragons, that was the truth—and yet not the whole truth. A dragon male might meet his soul mate, but that didn’t necessarily mean he had to settle down and make a commitment to her. My clique’s king was living proof of that. He kept his queen by his side but he refused to commit to her, and continued to breed with other women whenever the whim took him. I couldn’t actually complain about that, because if not for our king’s philandering ways, my brother would not exist. And Trae was the one thing in my life that I couldn’t do without. He wasn’t only my brother, but my savior. I wouldn’t be here today if he hadn’t saved me all those years ago when one of his idiot half-brothers had decided I’d needed to learn to fly. Which is how I’d gotten one of those damn scars—Trae had misjudged his claw position as he’d swooped from the sky to grab me, inches from the rocks.