Mercy Burns

realization that there were other men in my life. And as realizations went, that was pretty damn good, if only because it was further evidence that he wasn’t as immune to me as he was pretending.

“Is that a problem for you?” I added, a hint of my amusement bubbling through in my voice.

His expression seemed to darken, and I hadn’t thought that was possible. “Of course it isn’t. I just wanted to know if he could be trusted.”

“He’s been helping me find leads on this case, and I’d trust him with my life.”

“Why?”

I raised my eyebrows. “Why does it matter?”

“Because you said earlier that you never trust anyone, and yet you’d trust this man with your life.”

“I trust you, too. Which, according to you, makes me strange.”

“That’s true, too.”

This time a smile teased his lips, breaking the tension and the darkness shadowing his features. But what he said was true enough. It was odd that I’d trusted him so readily, yet there was just something about the man that made me feel safe. And that was rare when it came to fire dragons and me— although given my history with them, the actual attraction I felt wasn’t surprising. I did tend to have a thing for bad boys.

“So where are we headed now? Until we find out where Deca Dent is, we’re sort of stuck.”

“As it turns out, you’re not the only one with friends.” The last of his tension slipped away under the growing warmth of his smile. “And mine also have the capacity to use the Internet.”

“So much for Death being a lone ranger who cares for no one.”

“Friends are not loved ones. There is a difference.”

“How would you know if you’ve never had any loved ones?”

“I had a mother.”

“Had?” I glanced at him, and caught the hint of sadness that washed across his features. “She’s dead?”

“Yes,” he said, and then, frustratingly, shifted the topic again. “How do you feel about a cooked lunch?”

“That depends on where we’re having it.”

“It happens to be a pretty apartment overlooking a certain club of interest.”

I couldn’t help smiling. “And would you happen to know the person who owns this apartment?”

“No, but I’m sure they won’t mind us making use of their facilities for a while.”

“And where might they be while we’re doing this?”

“The south of France, according to the neighbors.”

“Convenient.”

“Totally.” He glanced at me. “I’ll cook.”

“This morning you said you couldn’t cook.”

“No, I said I couldn’t do pancakes.” He glanced at me. “There’s coffee on the floor at the back.”

I twisted around in the seat and saw two cups sitting in a take-out tray. “You took time to grab coffee? When there’s who knows how many bad guys coming after us?”

“The bad-guy ranks are currently two down. If we keep picking them off, the odds will be on our side sooner or later.”

His voice was philosophical, but it wasn’t something I wanted to think about. I might be determined to find the people behind the cleansings and Rainey’s death, but I really hadn’t gone as far as thinking what I’d actually do once I’d found them.

Perhaps deep down I’d never really thought that I would. “Is there nothing that scares you?”

He considered the question for what seemed an inordinate amount of time, then simply said, “Yes.”

I raised my eyebrows. “What?”

His gaze met mine, but those dark depths were totally unreadable. Once again I had no idea what this man was thinking or feeling, and in some ways, that was even more scary than the situation we’d found ourselves in.

“You scare me,” he answered at last.

“Me?” I said, surprise making my voice little more than a squeak. “Why the hell would I scare you?”

He hesitated for a moment, then said, “Because you don’t react as expected.”

I had a strange feeling that wasn’t what he’d actually meant, but I also knew he wouldn’t admit to anything else. Not yet, anyway.

Chapter Eleven

I leaned back in the kitchen chair and stared out the dust-covered windows. Damon’s idea of pretty was vastly different from mine—no surprise, I suppose, given he apparently found plain brown draman extremely attractive.

The apartment was part of an old confectionery factory, and it was still very industrial in feel. Old bricks, hard steel, bright chrome, and polished concrete were the flavor of the day.

But it was directly opposite Deca Dent, and provided the perfect refuge to spy on the club. Not that there was anything or anyone to spy on at the moment. The place was as deserted as an old cemetery.

Of course, we still did regular perimeter checks, just in case they used the rear entrance.

“Would you like any more steak?” Damon asked.

He was sitting opposite me, but his bare feet were caressing the bottom of my leg and there was a heated, hungry look in his eyes. The meal he’d cooked had catered to one hunger; now the other had come to the fore. Even after we’d spent a good percentage of the afternoon twined around each other, exploring and caressing and loving until exhaustion hit and the meal was ready.

But as much as I wanted nothing more than to touch and be touched, I also hungered to be something other than just another sexual partner. It might never amount to anything permanent, but I wanted to be remembered as more than just another woman in a long line of them.

So I ignored the simmering desire, and simply said, “If I eat anything else, I’ll burst.”

“What about some more red?”

I shook my head and watched him pour wine into his glass, then said, “Tell me, why do you see yourself as little more than a killer?”

“Because that’s what I do and that’s all I am.”

“But it’s not.” There was a slight tic in the muscles along his jawline. This man really didn’t like talking about himself. Was it was part of his training or did it go far deeper? “You like to keep people at arm’s length, don’t you?”

His expression closed over once again. “Why would you think that?”

“Because any normal person would be terrified by the statement.”

“You weren’t.”

“We’ve already established that I’m far from normal.” My voice was dry, and amusement briefly tugged the corners of his mouth. “Besides, the situation we were in was far from normal. I needed to get out of that place and if I had to use a killer to do that, then I damn well would.”

“That still doesn’t make your statement about me true.”

“Of course it does. You’re too at ease with calling yourself that, so you’ve done it more than once. Add to that the fact that you’ve already said you have no intention of ever getting emotionally involved, and your emotionally barren little world remains nice and secure.”

“You really do like making snap judgments about people you barely know, don’t you?”

“It’s not a snap judgment. And besides, after last night and this afternoon, you can’t exactly say we’re strangers anymore.”

“It makes us intimate strangers, Mercy, nothing more.”

My smile felt tight. “You do realize your strategy is doomed to failure, don’t you?”

He raised an eyebrow. “And why would you think that?”