Born of Fire

Shahara arched a brow at that and he immediately noticed the raw anger smoldering in her golden eyes. I’m in deep shit. If he didn’t stop this real soon, Shahara would probably shoot them both. He gave her an apologetic look that he hoped she didn’t misinterpret.

Suddenly, she raked Donya with a lust-filled stare, then licked her lips in a sexual invitation that left him instantly hard. “I don’t think we could really do that with a threesome, now, could we?” She twirled her hand in her hair with an innocent and yet seductive look that both amazed and aroused him. “Of course, Syn might prefer it if we left him out of it completely. What do you think?”

Syn coughed to cover his laugh. She had spunk. No doubt about it.

Her face horrified, Donya scowled at him. “Syn? Who is this person?”

He wanted to say it was his wife. If for no other reason than to get Donya off him. But he didn’t dare alienate her. “She’s a friend.”

Donya dismissed her immediately. “So what is it I can do for you, gorgeous?”

“First, you can treat my friend with respect—especially given the amount of money I spend here. After that, I need to see the company’s archived catalogs.”

She pressed her lips into a seductive pout as she ignored the first part of his words. “Wanting to add to your collection?”

“Something like that.”

Donya huffed irritably as she finally peeled herself off him. “Well, then, follow me.” She paused to rake Shahara with a condemning glare. “You stay behind us.”

Shahara sucked her breath in sharply as if she was getting an absolute thrill from the mere thought of it. “Oh, baby, I can’t wait. I love nothing more than a woman with back, and honey, you got a great big one. By all means, lead the way and let me enjoy the sight. I’ll have to call all my girls later and let them know exactly how sexy that big ass of yours is.” She purred like a prowling feline.

It was all he could do not to laugh out loud. “You are so bad.”

She shrugged prettily as she continued to make overt and over-the-top lustful expressions at Donya. “I just know what I like.”

And he never wanted to be on the receiving end of her venom—she knew exactly what buttons to push and she was working that into a frenzy.

Donya made a squeak of protest as she covered her butt with her ledger and then proceeded to lead them to her office.

Syn shook his head at Shahara. Behave, he mouthed to her over his shoulder.

She pointed angrily at Donya, then made a gesture as if she were choking her.

Donya turned around and Shahara, without missing a single beat, smiled at her and turned her gesture into one that said she was pretending to squeeze Donya’s ass while licking her lips as if she could taste her.

Donya shot forward like she’d hit hyperdrive and left them to try and keep up.

Shahara gave a low, evil laugh.

Syn wanted to be horrified by her actions, but in truth, he found them hysterical. Especially since Donya deserved it, given her rudeness toward Shahara.

What better vengeance without stooping to her level . . .

Once inside Donya’s office, she activated the catalog kiosk that stood in the corner.

Shahara stopped by his side and draped her arm possessively over his left shoulder in the same manner Donya had used in the lobby. She folded her hands and rested her chin on top of them as she smiled prettily at Donya, who tried even harder to ignore her.

“How far back do you want to go, Syn?”

“About twenty years.”

Donya arched her brows. “Really? It must be some piece. Another Chinergov?”

“No. I don’t know the artist. It’s an ancient Derridian sculpture that was put on sale by a man named Merrin Lyche.”

“Hmm . . .” She punched in the data. “Is this it?”

He froze as he saw it, and that one crystal moment of his childhood slammed into him full force and teleported him back in time. Again, he was fourteen, standing in Lyche’s office as he heard them coming for him. And in that panicked chaos of his ragged, terrified panting while sweat trickled down his back with itchy fingers, he’d had one moment of total clarity.

They’re going to kill me.

Hide the chip. If they can’t find it, they’ll torture you for it. So long as you don’t break and tell them where it is, you’ll live.

Determined to outwit them and survive, he’d looked around until he saw the piece on a bookcase. About thirty inches tall, it was garishly hideous. The skin was so green, the twisted facial expression so ugly, it was hard to even look at it.

Which meant no one would search it for the chip.

His body quaking from fear, he’d run to it and grabbed it so that he could hide the chip in the base. He’d barely returned it to the shelf and stepped toward the windows before the door crashed open. They’d seized him instantly and it’d taken all of his willpower not to look at the statue to make sure it went undetected. But even as a child he’d known better than that.

So he’d been dragged out . . .

Now he saw the photo of the one thing that had saved his life that day.

“That’s it.”