Born of Fire

He kept trying to push her away, and instead she stayed and quipped with sarcastic humor that he actually found entertaining. Shoving that thought away, he continued his search.


Finally he found what he was looking for. A thick metal door sealed off the office he remembered so well from his youth. The last time he’d been here, his breathing had been ragged, his body sweating. Even now he could see the lights dancing from torches in the hallway, hear the angry voices as they searched for him.

Now he was back . . .

Shahara snorted as he fumbled with the old controls that were rusted out. “Forget it. You’ll never get that open.”

Ignoring her hostility, he pulled out his charger and studied the lock. True, there was no electricity, but he’d opened far more secure things than this in his time. “One day you will learn not to doubt me.” He opened the panel and began crossing wires, connecting some to the handheld battery.

After several minutes, a spark ignited and the door rasped open.

Shahara gaped at what he’d done. “I’m impressed.”

He disconnected the battery. “Once a filch, always a filch.”

She frowned. There was an odd note in his voice. Bitterness, maybe. And she realized it must be strange for him to be confronting this part of his past. A part he must have struggled hard to forget.

The last time he’d been here, he’d gone to prison . . .

Her heart ached for him.

Without even glancing at her, he entered the office and began searching it. Taking out a lightstick, she trailed its beam over the scattered debris. “What am I looking for?”

“Something that can tell you who was once assigned to this office.”

“I take it the chip isn’t here.”

He shook his head. “We have to find something personal about the occupant.”

She groaned. “That could be anyone. And anything I find could be from someone who had this office long after you stashed the chip.”

“No. Look at the furniture and the dust. It’s at least twenty years old. Just like it said in my reports. They shut this place down and never returned to it.”

“The office still could have changed hands.”

He gave her a fierce glower. “Well, we don’t have anything else to go on, now do we?”

She held her hands up in surrender. “All right, don’t get testy with me.” She continued looking through the garbage.

Syn started going through an old desk.

Just as she was about to give up, her light flashed against a stationary pad. Taking three strides, she knelt down and picked it up. “Does the name Merrin Lyche ring a bell?”

He looked over at her. “What did you find?”

“Some old stationary.” She held it out to him.

Taking it, he nodded. “At least it’s somewhere to start.” He tore off the top sheet, folded it, and put it in his pocket. “Thanks. Now let’s get out of here before it gets any colder.”

Shahara flashed her light up at him and noted the blueness of his lips. “I am really sorry I pulled you into the bath.”

He smiled before moving the light out of his face. “Don’t be. I’m certainly not.”

She rolled her eyes at him and his warped reasoning. “Then lead me back before you die of exposure and I have to explain to someone why your clothes are frozen to your body on a clear night.”

His laughter warming her, he led her out of the building.

In no time at all, they were back inside the hotel. Shahara paused at the lift area while Syn continued past it.

Frowning, she hurried to trail after him. “Where are we going?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he entered a small boutique.

What in the nine worlds was he doing? Confused, she stopped outside and watched as he sorted through a rack of jackets.

When he found whatever he must have been searching for, he looked up and eyed her. Next, he moved to the back of the store where she couldn’t see him.

She debated going in after him. She felt awkward standing outside while passersby eyed her with way too much interest. But one look at the stony-faced clerks inside the store and she decided she had no interest in getting one step closer to them or their disdain. She didn’t need them to remind her of her lowly status.

Just as she finally made the decision to go in after him, he took several things up to the cashier. The man handed him a ledger and Syn signed while the man placed his purchases in a bag.

Once Syn rejoined her, he handed the jacket to her. “You wear a small, right?”

“Yes.” She scowled down at the warm soft suede in her hands. Dark brown, it was lined with synthetic fur that felt softer than down.

Syn continued on to the lifts.

Stunned, she hurried to catch up to him. She wanted to ask him about his gift, but the curious stares of the people around them kept her lips sealed.

It wasn’t until they were back in their room that she confronted him. Of course, by then, she was good and angry because she knew why men bought extravagant presents for women. Especially after they had sex . . .