Born of Fire

The look he gave her would have iced fire. He pulled a pair of shades out of his jacket pocket and put them on to cover his black eye. “Hand me your blaster.”


“Why? You planning to shoot me?”

“Not quite yet.” Then he added, “If I go out there unarmed, they’ll know something’s not right.”

Shahara debated a minute longer before finally handing it over to him.

He tucked it into his left pocket. “Do you still have the small one in your boot?”

“Yeah.”

“Take it out and keep it in your hand, in your pocket.”

She didn’t like the sound of that, but she obeyed.

“Now give me your other hand.”

She frowned before dutifully giving it over as well. He grabbed a small stylus from a notch in the wall and quickly wrote down a name and address on her palm. His touch tickled her hand and did incredibly strange things to her belly while she watched. What was he doing?

“In case something happens to me, that’s the address for a man named Digger. It should be two blocks down the street on the right. It’s a large apartment building. You can’t miss it.” He took the silver necklace off and placed it around her neck. His warmth still clinging to it, it sent a chill over her back. Her breasts tingled. “Show him this and he’ll help you.”

“What about you?”

“If I go down, don’t worry about me. I don’t have a brother and two sisters who need or love me. You just make sure you get away.”

She didn’t like the sound of that at all. “You don’t think you can make it two blocks?”

He didn’t answer. Instead he changed the subject. “Stay here while I go talk to the guards.”

Frowning with concern, she watched him extend the ramp, then walk down to meet their landing party. Only a slight limp gave away his injuries. Well, that and the bruises that still marred his neck. Bruises that made her feel guilty for the part she’d played in handing him over to Merjack.

With a masculine, in-control-at-all-times nonchalance that astounded her, Syn approached the guards and exchanged a few words with them.

As the guards walked away, he motioned for her to join him.

She took a deep breath in relief. “What did you say to them?”

That wicked grin returned, flashing his dimple. “I’m not about to repeat it to you.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Careful, convict, I might finish what the Rits started.”

He just laughed and threw his right arm over her shoulders. Her alarm bells ringing, she stiffened at his touch.

“Relax,” he whispered, his breath tickling her neck. “I need a crutch and I can’t very well be seen on the street here with one. If one of the natives detects any weakness, we’re both roadkill. So just look mean and don’t make eye contact with anyone.”

She smiled seductively. “Gee, hon, you take me to the most wonderful places.”

“Don’t make me laugh. It hurts too much. Now quit talking and start for the door.”

As they started walking, she couldn’t help noticing the muscles flexing beneath her hands, against her side. Hard and strong, they made their presence known in a way that disturbed her breathing. Her hunger for his body begging for appeasement, she did her best to think of something disgusting—like Caillen’s dirty underwear.

It didn’t help.

And it only served to remind her that Syn didn’t wear any . . .

Once outside, she almost stopped as dread consumed her. Only Syn’s constant pull on her kept her in motion.

Filth lined the street and an odor that smelled way too much like human waste, garbage, and alcohol assaulted every olfactory gland she possessed. Bile rose in her throat, effectively distracting her from the tantalizing form next to her.

“Relax.” He tightened his arm around her shoulders. “Breathe through your mouth.”

“My God, what is that stench?”

“Hell.”

As he continued to lead her down the street, a funny feeling settled deep inside her stomach. She was putting a lot of trust into a man she barely knew. He could take her to some remote location and dump her.

For all she knew, he might even be taking her to a slaver so that he could get enough money to hide. My God, Shahara, what are you doing? This wasn’t her. Shahara Dagan trusted no one.

Ever.

The last time she’d made that mistake, she’d been robbed and raped. And if Syn ever learned the truth about why she was here with him, she was sure that was mild compared to what he would do to her.

“Where are we going?”

He gave her a puzzled look. “To an old friend.”

“What kind of old friend?”

With a weary sigh, he shook his head. “I’m not going to dump you here with no money and no way home if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m not half the bastard your bounty sheets say I am. I wouldn’t leave a rabid dog at the mercy of the vermin who inhabit this place. So relax. The less you know, the safer you’ll be.”