Born of Fire

Quickening her crawling, she muttered, “I think I’ll wait until after our friends go home to cut you loose.”


“Here.” He placed her hands on each side of his hips. “Hold on to me and don’t worry about where we’re going.”

Grateful for his eyesight that didn’t need any noticeable light, she did as ordered.

Beneath her hands, Shahara felt the hardness of his body as he led her through the endless, winding duct until she was hopelessly lost. Still, his presence comforted her and gave her hope that they would survive.

It amazed her that she’d given him her trust. Something she’d sworn long ago that she’d never do with anyone outside her family. But then, she’d found herself doing a lot of things with him that she’d sworn she’d never do.

And thank the gods that he had yet to betray her.

At last, he opened a small vent and led them into a rundown, empty office. Cobwebs and debris littered the floor, while off in the darkness, she heard animals scurrying. A foul odor assaulted her nostrils. Pressing her hand to her nose so that she could breathe, she looked at Syn. “What is this place?”

“I think it’s the condemned building a few blocks away from my apartment.”

That would certainly explain the decaying mess and the lovely dank, moldy odors.

Syn went to look out the windows. The blinds crackled from their brittle state as he spread them open ever so slightly. “I think we lost the ones chasing us from the roof. At least I don’t hear them any more.”

“Neither do I.”

He tapped his ear, and she waited while he listened to whatever Vik reported.

“Pull on your hood.” He put his own on his head.

Good idea, she thought as she complied. The Rits would scan the building soon and it would be easy to trace two large targets.

Lights danced around the fogged glass of the office’s door.

“They’re coming.” Syn pulled her away from the glass to keep their pursuers from seeing their shadows.

Once again her heart picked up its heavy staccato rhythm as they pressed themselves flat against the wall. Syn held her plastered there, his arm draped protectively across her breasts. The door creaked open. Her breath caught in her throat as a personal-sized searchlight traveled across the room.

When the man entered, Syn grabbed the arm holding the light, then decked him. The blow had no effect on the tracker. Cursing, Syn shook his hand as if he’d broken it.

The tracker smiled evilly as he grabbed Syn by the throat and slammed him against the wall.

Without thinking, Shahara stepped around Syn and drove her knee into tracker’s groin as hard as she could. He let out a loud wail before doubling over. She brought her hands down on either side of his head, against his ears, for a nice percussion blow.

He fell to the floor where she groin-kicked him again, just for good measure.

Syn stood over the tracker. “Bet the next time a guy hits you in front of his girl you’ll fall down, won’t you?” He bent over and began searching him for something.

The tracker said nothing. He just lay on the ground moaning while holding himself.

Syn straightened and she saw the communicator he’d found. He set his blaster to stun and shot the tracker. He shook his head at her. “Damn, woman, you really do need to stop with those groin kicks. You make my cock hurt just looking at him.”

“It was more effective than your punch.”

“I can’t argue with that.” He started down the hallway.

As he walked, she noticed the slight limp. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” he said in a low voice. “It’s sympathy pain for that tracker you downed.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well, I didn’t kick you.”

“Like I said before, your kicks have a way of staying with a man for a long time.”

“Quit being a baby and get us out of here.”

He grunted. “What do you need me for? I ought to turn you loose and let you kick them down.”

Voices crackled over the communicator in a language she couldn’t make out. “What are they saying?”

He held his hand up to silence her and listened.

Once the voices stopped, he turned to face her. “They’re cordoning off the block. They have two rovers on each side of the building and a group of local enforcers.” He rubbed his neck. “I don’t mind taking out a tracker or two, but I’d sure hate to kill a local.”

“Too bad they don’t have the same compunctions about us.”

He cocked his head. “I thought you weren’t bloodthirsty.”

“Let’s just say I’m getting sick of people coming after me all the time when . . .”

He stopped and faced her. “When what?”

She clamped her lips together. For the first time, she began to actually feel what he must have felt for years. Abandoned. Alone. Hunted for something he couldn’t change, for something he’d done out of necessity.

It was a nasty feeling, and one that had been rammed down his throat. Who was she to complain to him over these last few days?

How had he managed all this time to remain free?