Born of Fire

How did she know . . .

And then it dawned on her. Though the beauty before her was older, there was no mistaking the eyes and hair of the elegant woman who’d been in the picture with Syn and his son.

This was his ex-wife.

Her stomach drew taut and for a moment, she thought she’d be ill. In person, Mara was even more gorgeous and graceful. Her photos definitely didn’t do her justice.

Syn didn’t speak as his eyes shot venom at her.

“What are you doing here?” Mara demanded as she shot to her feet.

He motioned to the hideous statue that rested on top of her bookcase. “I need to see that for literally one minute.”

Mara rushed around her desk to confront him. Disgust bled from every pore as she raked a disparaging glare over his body. “Get out of here. Now!”

Shahara stood back awkwardly as she watched the woman she would have killed to have been. A woman who had squandered the most precious thing in the universe and thrown it into the face of the man who’d given it to her.

You’re not a woman, Mara.

You’re a manipulative bitch.

Syn tried to step around her. “Just let me see it for a minute and I’ll be gone.”

“Why? Are you going to steal it? I should warn you it’s not worth much. Probably about as much as your life.”

A tic worked in his jaw. “I don’t want to get into this with you, Dr. Whelms.”

She lifted a haughty brow. “You didn’t expect me to keep your alias, did you? Or worse, your real name. I wanted a fresh start and so I took it.”

“I don’t really give a damn what you do or don’t do.”

While they argued, Shahara stepped around Mara’s back and picked up the statue. It was a heavy piece, about thirty inches in height, carved of stone. And so ugly that it defied description. Surely only a blind person could have carved it.

Maybe carving it was what made the person blind.

No wonder the artist had never bothered signing it. She wouldn’t have admitted to creating it, either.

As she searched the chiseled crevices, she realized there was no place for anything to be hidden.

Except for . . .

She looked at the black base. Someone had glued felt onto the bottom . . .

It had to be there. It was the only place he could have hidden it. Using her fingernails to pry back the fabric, she hurriedly searched.

“I heard you killed some poor woman. Raped her, too, didn’t you?” Mara continued to rant at Syn. “You’re just like your pathetic father. Two Wades in a pod.”

Shahara looked up and saw the hurt those words caused him.

To his credit, it only showed in his eyes. The rest of him was coiled in fury. “You always knew just what to say to thoroughly piss me off.”

“You’re nothing but low-bred, gutter trash.”

Shahara gripped the statue tighter and tried not to listen to any more. Just when she was sure she could fight the urge to bash Mara in the head with it no longer, her finger touched a small round disk about the size of her fingernail.

With a gasp, she pulled back the felt and found it. Relief tore through her with such ferocity, she wanted to shout.

Finally . . .

“Syn?”

He met her gaze.

She held the chip up. “I’ve got it!”

Mara turned on her with a sour glare. “Got what? What kind of contraband is that?” She reached for her link on the desk.

“You always were a lethal bitch,” he snarled, pulling her hand away from the link and shoving her back. “You alert security and I swear on my soul that I’ll rip your cold heart out with my bare hands.”

“That’s what your father would have done, isn’t it?”

He penned her between him and the desk as he raked her with a snarl. “You better be glad I’m not my father. He would have cut your throat the day he found out what a lying piece of shit you really are. But lucky for you, I didn’t want to deprive my son of his mother.”

“He’s not your son. Thank the gods. He hates every breath you take.”

“You couldn’t even let me have that much, could you, you whore?”

Mara slapped him. Hard. “How dare you insult me. Your kind of filth doesn’t even deserve to breathe my air. Now get out!”

And in that instant, Shahara saw the truth in Syn’s eyes. Mara truly meant nothing to him at all. He hated her.

His gaze turning dead, he stepped back from Mara and held his hand out to her. “C’mon. Let’s go get your sister.”

Shahara started to take his hand, then stopped. Syn might have developed breeding by going to school and having money, but she never had.

Before she could rethink her actions, she slugged Mara as hard as she could in her perfect face. And even that was a light punishment for everything she’d done to Syn.