Born of Fire

She still couldn’t stifle her nagging doubts. “Why are you helping me?”


“Ah hell, I don’t know. Stupidity, I guess.” He glanced at her and must have seen the worry in her face. “You’re Caillen’s revered big sister. Remember?” His voice was suddenly void of aggravation. “I’m not about to face him after I let something happen to you. It would kill him and I think too much of him for that.”

His explanation brought an unexpected wave of disappointment to her.

She tensed. What were you expecting? Gee Shahara, I’m helping you because I care about you?

Wake up. You know better than that. People only help when they have to.

With a sigh of her own, she readjusted her grip on his lean hips and directed her gaze away from him.

The buildings that surrounded them were the strangest hodgepodge of glass, steel, brick, and wood. It looked as if the architects had used spare parts and designs they’d thrown out. And every person they passed eyed them with an interest that made sweat bead on her forehead.

Footsteps approached from ahead. Remembering Syn’s warning, she focused her gaze on the sidewalk before them.

“Hey, how much for the woman?”

Syn pulled her to a stop.

Shahara couldn’t resist a quick glance to see the tall, bald man who stood in front of them to the right. Beefy and intense, he put the scare in scary. He had a shorter, gray-haired companion about a foot behind him.

She looked up at Syn and watched the almost imperceptible way his eyes narrowed underneath his shades. “Your life would be about right.” He raked him with a sneer. “You still interested?”

The stranger looked to his friend. An arrogant, amused smile passed between them before the man turned back to face Syn. “C’mon, friend. It’s two on one. You sure don’t look like you’re up to those odds.”

With a casualness that astounded her, Syn removed his shades and put them in his pocket. The only inkling she had to his deadly mood was the subtle shift of his jacket with his left hand to expose her blaster for his grip. He rested his hand casually against his tight buttocks. “You can’t be talking to me. I don’t have prokas for friends. And I assure you I could gut you both before your stench had time to catch up to your fall.”

Rage contorted the man’s features. He took a step forward.

Syn didn’t move. He didn’t even tense. He just stood there, taunting them with his eyes and deadly silence.

Waiting.

Like a vicious, lethal viper who knew it could take down its enemy with a single bite.

The man behind him paled. “Wait a sec, Chronus. That’s Syn. I saw his face on Blade’s scan.”

A flicker of fear dispelled the rage an instant before doubt wavered in his gray eyes. “I thought he was dead.”

Syn gave him a menacing grin. “Not as dead as you’ll be if you don’t walk on . . . friend.”

His buddy grabbed him by the shoulder. “C’mon. Don’t mess with him. Remember what he did to Durrin and Blade. The Partini still can’t walk right.”

Syn gave an evil laugh. “I sure would like to get an eye’s view of your kneecap, too. What say we play doctor for a bit?” He checked his chronometer. “I got time . . .”

With that, the two men took off at a dead run.

Shahara was impressed by their quick flight. Most of all, she was impressed that Syn had inspired that kind of panic in them without having to draw a weapon. “Just what did you do to a Partini?”

He draped his arm over her again. “It’s a long story. And there’s nothing in the universe more boring than an old war tale.”

She was amazed by that. Any other man, her brother included, wouldn’t have hesitated to bore her with a tale of his masculine bravado. But Syn didn’t seem to need to prove himself. She smiled at his confidence. It was such a nice change from the people she’d known.

As they walked on, she looked up at him and watched how well he managed to keep the pain from showing on his face.

How did he do that?

If not for the bruises and slight limp, she’d never be able to tell that he was hurt, and she wondered what internal scars he must hide with the same predatorial grace.

Syn was like hardened steel. And it must have taken the very fires of hell to forge a man this strong. Which left only one question. What was his weakness? Surely he had one.

Without any more confrontations, they approached the apartment building. Twin bright yellow towers stretched up toward the liquid blue sky.

From a distance the place had looked habitable but, with every step that drew them closer, it became less and less attractive. Broken bottles and litter lined the sidewalk. Several bodies lay stretched out in front of the doors.

Tempted to check them for a pulse, Shahara reminded herself that many thieves used that type of ploy. Once someone bent over, they pounced.

Just like Syn in prison.