Born of Fire

“I don’t see anything, boss. It looks clear, but I’m not betting on those odds.”


“Keep looking and let me know when you make them.” Syn took out his baton and faced Shahara. “If we’re lucky, which I seldom seem to be, they’ll have given up and be gone by now. But if my typical luck holds, they’ll have at least two people staking out my building. I doubt they’ll be this far back, though, and I seriously doubt they’re looking up for our approach, which is why we’re here.” He paused, then added, “I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

Shahara rolled her eyes. “Great.” She just loved his optimism. It was one of her favorite things about him.

Pulling out her baton and extending it, she watched him run, then vault over the edge. He soared across the wide space like a graceful bird taking flight—like all this was second nature to him. The saddest part of all was the fact that it was second nature to him.

Her element was fighting. His was being one with the darkness around them . . .

“Go ahead,” she groused at herself. “Make it look easy. But if I fall, I swear I’ll haunt you forever.”

Which would only be fair since he was already haunting her.

With her heart lodged painfully in her throat, she took off at a run and vaulted over to the next building. Her heart didn’t beat again until she landed safely on the other side.

He shook his head at her panicked expression. “What did you say you did for a living? Play video games?”

Shahara took a deep breath and thought about where she’d like to plant her extended baton on his body. “I prefer to face my enemies on the street. In the open.” Stealth was also her friend at times, but she was only stealthy until she reached her target.

Then it was full-on.

“And I prefer to live.” With that, he vaulted to the next rooftop.

Not soon enough to soothe her frayed nerves, they landed on his roof.

Syn walked over to the opposite edge of the building and leaned over its ledge. With an indifference to danger she greatly envied, he stared down at the street for several minutes before looking back to where she was keeping a respectful distance. He motioned her forward.

Her heart still lodged in her throat, she obeyed even though she hated the thought of looking down.

“I see two tracers,” he said once she joined him. “What about you?”

She stared down at the dark street and her stomach hit the ground. For a minute, she was ill, but she swallowed her panic and forced herself to look around. It wasn’t until a piece of paper blew across the street that she finally saw one man walking.

“Right there,” he said, pointing to the man pacing between two lamps that she’d noted. “And over there.”

She looked at the other man sitting on a nearby bench, looking like a homeless urchin. How had she missed seeing him before?

As she stared at them, she realized their clothes were far too new and clean for them to be homeless and she couldn’t imagine any other reason for them to be about. “Why did they choose such obvious vantage points?”

“They’re decoys.”

She turned toward him with a raised brow. “Where are the others?”

He shrugged. “No telling. They might be looking at us right now.”

Then how could he be so calm about it? “And to think I turned down the chance to get a good night’s sleep at your office.”

“Yeah, well, I told you to stay put.”

“Next time I’ll listen.”

He pulled his hood on, then secured two lines down the side of the building. “Vik?” He tapped his earpiece that kept them in contact with each other. “You see anything?”

“Nope.”

He glanced to her expectantly.

She pulled her own hood on and tucked her braid into it. A bead of sweat ran between her breasts as she thought about what would come next.

She would be hanging about three hundred feet above the ground. One misstep and she’d die.

Painfully.

As if completely unperturbed, Syn swung over the edge and began his rapid, fearless descent. She swallowed hard and watched the expert way he danced down the side of the building, his boots clicking ever so slightly against the two-inch metal piece that separated the mirrored blocks.

Well, she couldn’t let him get the better of her. Licking her dry lips, she carefully climbed over.

As she began her much slower descent, the chilly wind whipped against her body.

How could Syn do this for a living? How could anyone?

Just one tiny slip and . . .

Well, whoever had the unpleasant task of cleaning up the mess would probably be able to use a sponge on her remains.

With that thought foremost in her mind, she looked up at the roof and tried to think about someplace safe. To her complete dismay, the only safe place that came to her was an image of Syn holding her.

Good Lord, what was with her? She’d never had such delusions before. Never even had a single hormone rear its ugly head.

Until him.

Something about Syn had chiseled away her indifference and invaded her thoughts and heart in a most terrifying way.