Bound by Flame (22 page)

Except she shouldn’t even be touching him.

He wasn’t hers. Nick couldn’t ever be hers.

She didn’t want to repeat Mother Keara’s threat out loud, because hearing the words again would make them more real, and even more painful. But she had to. She was a fire Sibyl and fire Sibyls communicated and didn’t hold back the truth. She owed Nick that much.

The pain tamped the fire within her and its loss made everything worse. “They—they said if I choose to be with you, I’ll get pitched out on my ass.” She turned her face into his neck. “I’ll lose everything,” she whispered. “The only family I’ve ever had. My home, my life, my fire. Everything.”

His hands went still, no longer caressing her. “Why?”

Cynda kissed the skin between his jaw and his ear, and more of her inner heat faded because she hated what she had to say next. “You’re a Curson.”

His steel-hard muscles tightened to complete stone. “What the fuck?” That low rumble, twice as deep. It gave her fresh shivers. “The Mothers approved of Creed
marrying
Riana. Explain why we can’t even date.”

Cynda held him as close as she could, because she knew she’d have to let him go soon. “Creed submitted to a ritual—and that was with the Russian Mothers. They’re more lenient than the other two orders.”

For a few moments, Nick didn’t even breathe, his warm skin unmoving beneath her cheek. She squeezed her eyes shut, dreading what he’d say or do next.

If he pushed her to take their relationship further, she didn’t know if she could refuse him. She balled her fists on his chest. How could she deny herself something she wanted badly enough to even
consider
taking such a risk?

She opened her eyes as Nick eased himself away from her, and she let her palms slide down his chest until he held her at arm’s length. His jaw knotted in the corners, and his face reddened like he was swallowing two tons of swearing and unkind comments about the women Cynda loved and considered to be her true family.

After another few moments of silence, his eyes flashed and she sensed he’d made his decision. She could barely swallow as she locked gazes with him.

Steady, with way too much control, Nick said, “I want to speak to these…Mothers. Take me to your room. Call them. However you have to do it, I want to talk to them.
Now.
”

A jolt of unexpected warmth rattled Cynda.

Nick wanted to talk with the Mothers?

He would do that for her?

She kept looking at him, only half believing, but the determination in his face let her know just how serious he was.

Of course, it couldn’t happen. Her heart ached again, and she shook her head. “I can’t open the channels for you. I’ve been warned. Once the Mothers make a decision, I’ve never seen them waver from it.”

He audibly sucked in his breath and even more stern resolve hardened his features. “Then find me a fire Sibyl who hasn’t been warned.” He gave her shoulders a squeeze, and Cynda’s heart squeezed harder. She so wanted to agree, but she knew she couldn’t do that, either.

“It wouldn’t be right.” She raised her hands and gripped his arms. “I can’t ask another Sibyl to do something I know the Mothers don’t want. Not after Mother Keara’s visit.”

“Mother Keara.” Nick’s dark eyes got an impossible shade darker. “She’s the one who came to your room night before last?”

“That doesn’t matter. One Mother speaks for all Mothers.” Cynda rubbed Nick’s arms as if she could transmit her entire understanding of Sibyl culture through her fingertips. “That’s how it works in my world. Mothers might fight amongst themselves, but they never contradict each other’s decisions or opinions, once they’re set.”

“Fine.” He let go of her. His hands doubled into fists at his sides, and she could almost feel the heat radiating off his skin. If Nick were a fire Sibyl, every combustible in the room would be blazing. As it was, he let off a golden glow that made Cynda blink. “I’ll be on the next plane to Ireland. Can I fly directly into Connemara, or do I have to take a shuttle?”

Cynda wanted to grab hold of Nick all over again, hang around his neck, and kiss him for an hour. A day.

He’d do this for me—for us. He’s ready to take a risk that big.

She battled the urge to touch him and kiss him until she soothed away his frustration and hers, too. “You can’t do that, either.” She shook her head, trying to gather her thoughts. “Maybe after we get this J. C. Downy situation under control. Then we can talk about it.”

The fire inside her dwindled some more. “But I don’t think it will do any good.” Her mouth felt dry as she spoke, and she had trouble with her next words. “You’d be putting yourself in danger, too. Once you’re in the hands of the Mothers, there’s no telling what they’ll do to you.”

“Bullshit—”

Nick started to argue but Cynda cut in, “Right now we need you here, Nick.
I
need you here.” Her lips trembled when she stopped speaking, and she pressed her fingers against her mouth to get control before she moved them away. “You can’t be my bodyguard anymore, but I know you’re our best shot at stopping these murders.”

His mouth came open. He looked shocked for a second or two, then his expression turned to solid granite. “
No one
else is protecting you. When you’re not with your triad, you’re with me.”

“Nick—”

“No discussion.” He folded his arms and glowered at her. “You’re my responsibility, and I will
not
let you die.” His face softened a fraction, and his voice dropped. “Don’t think I’ll push you and our relationship. I won’t. And I won’t let you push me…not with what it might cost you. I could never, would never, do that to you, Cynda.”

A tremor went through her, and her arms actually hurt from wanting to hug him. His determination to talk to the Mothers, his determination not to jeopardize her relationship with those she loved as her family, touched her in ways she’d never been touched before. And the
something more
she’d been feeling inside rushed to the surface.

Dear, sweet Goddess, I think I’m in love with this man.

The look on Nick’s face turned so intense Cynda was scared to death he might love her, too. She breathed shallowly, high in her chest, trying not to panic or cry.

There is no crying in baseball…or protecting New York City
.

They were professionals. They could work together and avoid an intimate relationship. They could do this.

They had no choice.

Cynda walked past Nick to the other side of the room, to get a little respite from the pain of his nearness. He let her go without grabbing hold of her, which relieved her and disappointed her at the same time.

She sat on an exercise ball, hugged herself and rocked back and forth off the tips of her toes. “Let’s leave it be for a while. I need to know what’s happening in your head about Jake.”

She half expected Nick to grunt or refuse to answer, or even blow up because she asked. That had been his pattern up to now, and she couldn’t see that changing.

He surprised her by pulling out an exercise mat and easing himself onto his knees, martial-arts style, facing her. After contemplating for a time, Nick said, “I think Downy’s using Jake’s talisman to force him to do what she says—and maybe all of the demons she’s got under her thumb.” His voice lowered, and she heard the anger, frustration, and pain in his voice. “I think Jake can’t fight her anymore.”

The thought of any creature being tortured into submission flowed all over Cynda like a coat of ice dousing her fire even more. “So, do you have a plan? How do we save him?”

Nick gazed at her steadily. “We don’t.”

Cynda was dumbfounded by his matter-of-fact tone, not to mention what he just said. She rocked back on the ball, then forward, unable to keep from frowning. “We have to.”

“What we have to do is make sure Max’s word on the Bronx house is true.” Nick’s voice sounded steady and eerily calm. “We hit the place, spring Delilah and get her into protection. If Downy’s there, we take her out.”

“You can’t possibly believe I’d let you act like it’s that simple.” Cynda continued rocking on the ball, wishing she was close enough to smack Nick in the head. “You’re out of your mind.”

In that same serious, even tone, Nick said, “I’m not blowing you off. This is real, and there’s no sugarcoating it.” Grief touched his features, pulling at Cynda’s insides. “If I didn’t have my duty as an officer and a rational man clear in my mind, my mother would have murdered you and your triad last fall.”

Cynda didn’t have a ready response. Yes, he’d acted on that sense of duty, but at the same time she knew it was hurting him inside. All she could do was watch Nick as he continued.

“I know what the Legion does to people. What they’re capable of.” He lowered his head. The long hair she had freed fell over his shoulder. He looked up again and shoved the strands away with an obviously frustrated gesture. “If Jake stays out of the way, he’ll be fine. If he does their bidding, if he tries to hurt any of us, he’ll have to be dealt with.”

She leaned forward on the exercise ball, belly burning at the thought of Nick having to survive the death of another family member—and facing the fact that he might have to be the one to kill Jake.

This one would hurt him worse.

This one, he might not get over—if, indeed, he had gotten over any of the tragedies in his past.

Firm resolve settled within her. Damned if she was going to let him be the one to suffer the pain of doing it all over again. She pointed her finger at him. “If Jake has to be killed, I’m doing it.”

Something like surprise, then concern, flickered over his features before vanishing. Still in his martial-arts pose, eyes clear and straightforward, Nick sighed. “Cynda, that’s not reasonable.”

“No discussion.” Tears welled in her eyes, and she couldn’t hold them back. “It
is
reasonable. There’s no way I’m letting you go through that agony again. If your brother has to die, it’ll be by my sword. Got that?”

Nick gazed at her steadily, but didn’t respond.

Cynda’s breath hitched. Once the tears slid down her cheeks, they didn’t want to stop. She choked a sob, and she put her face in her hands to rein in her emotions.

A few seconds later, she felt Nick’s warm, strong arm around her shoulders.

She wanted to leap off the exercise ball, hug him, and cry until she didn’t have any misery and confusion left. Everything felt twisted and broken. It wasn’t right, for her to finally love someone other than her Sibyl family, and be denied. It was way past not right for Nick to be facing Jake’s death, to even be in danger of being the one who would have to kill his brother.

When she looked up at him, he used his free hand to brush away her tears. The contact made her tremble all over, but she could tell by his expression that he wouldn’t let her compromise herself in any way.

“We’ll work all this out, firebird.” He gave her shoulders a squeeze. “We’ll find some way to survive. It’s what we do.”

He cupped her cheek and gave her a longing look before he said, “Are you coming up with me, or should I send Riana and Merilee down?”

“I’ll come up.” Her voice was barely audible in the quiet, still basement. “We need to work on those raid plans.”

Nick nodded.

He let her go, eased to his feet, and backed away, waiting for her to get off the exercise ball and leave the gym first.

All the way up the stairs, Cynda was overly aware of his powerful presence behind her. At the top, she stopped and turned. With him one step below her, their heights matched and she could look at him directly.

She kept her tone firm. “If we’re going to make it through this, I think we need to agree—no holding back information. Not for any reason. Not anything. I won’t keep secrets from you if you don’t keep any from me.”

“No secrets,” Nick repeated without blinking.

Since he once told her he never told the truth, she couldn’t tell if he was agreeing with her, or humoring her. Cynda gazed into his eyes, trying to read his genuineness. “Do you
mean
that?”

“I mean it.” His lips twitched as he made a V over his nose. “Demon’s honor.”

14

A week after his heart-to-heart with Cynda in the basement, Nick checked his watch as he crept out of one unfamiliar backyard into another. Ten of his men dressed in full SWAT gear, Cynda and her triad in their leathers, and the Jamaica Bay Sibyl rangers followed behind him, moving as quietly as they could.

Less than five minutes now.

Today, my brother Jake might die.

Nick ground his teeth. He didn’t have any options. Time to accept that fact.

All these years he had found balance inside, maintained the right mental distance from his work, and carefully controlled his thoughts and actions on the job. It was how he survived so many undercover assignments—like five years in the Legion. Through his whole life, it had never been any other way. He would do what he had to do, even if it tore him up inside.

In a few short months, Jake and Cynda had blown that all to hell.

Now it was work.

Now he had to use every year, month, day, and hour of his training and experience to keep himself in line and on task.

Cold air bit at Nick’s arm through his NYPD raid jacket, but with his usual mental discipline when it came to the elements, he barely felt the chill as his half of the assault team eased around houses and past ice-covered bushes, creeping toward the target. It was almost mid-March now. According to dozens of special news reports, all the rain and flooding had moved south, and gotten even worse. In the Bronx, no snow, but there was still plenty of ice. The sharp, clean smell of frost and the bitter chill helped Nick focus even when all manner of shit was about to explode in his face.

Jake.

Sorry, buddy. Keep your invisible ass out of my way today.
Please.

He checked the countdown on his watch again.

Four minutes.