Vance sure seemed to think so. He was jumping off Cain’s body. Heading back toward the other side of the cage. Distancing himself, while he waited for his enemy to fall. He waved his hands in the air, encouraging the shouts from the crowd.
Venom. Venom. Venom.
Now she understood what they had been screaming for so long. The crowd had wanted to see the snake bite.
They’d gotten their wish.
Eve couldn’t move. She’d distracted Cain. She hadn’t wanted him to kill Vance, but she sure hadn’t wanted Cain to suffer, either.
Cain was still crouched on the floor. His head was down. The crowd was going wild. They were screaming for another bite. They wanted blood. They wanted violence.
Cain’s head tilted up. His gaze met hers once more.
They were going to get it.
She saw the fire lighting his eyes.
Her head turned toward Trace. “You should . . .” She cleared her throat because her voice had gone hoarse. Fear could do that. Fear could steal her voice. She tried again. “You should run.”
Because she knew an attack was coming.
Who the fuck was that blond jerk beside Eve? With his hand on her? The fool needed to step back.
The venom pumped through Cain’s blood, making the burn inside him hotter. Jimmy was a fool. His venom might work on the weaker shifters, but it wasn’t going to incapacitate Cain. It wasn’t doing anything but making his fury deepen.
“You shouldn’t have come after me, man!” Jimmy snarled at him. “Always thinking you were so big and bad. Who’s bad now?” Jimmy threw his arms into the air and spun to face the crowd.
Eve was whispering something to the blond dick beside her. She looked back at Cain and he saw her lips form, “No!” but there was no stopping him. Jimmy was begging for death.
Cain rose to his feet. Lifted his hand. Let the flames dance above his palm.
The cries died from the crowd. Fear—ah, he could smell it.
Jimmy froze with his hands still in the air. Maybe he smelled the fear, too.
“You sold me out,” Cain told him, his voice carrying easily. “Me and a dozen other paranormals.”
Murmurs came from the crowd. Some folks—the smart ones—started heading for the door. Eve didn’t leave. Neither did the blond with the death wish.
Jimmy’s hands lowered. He turned back to face Cain and his face had whitened. “N-no, I—”
Cain wasn’t in the mood for his lies. “You let the humans cut into us. Torture us.” For days. Weeks. Some paranormals hadn’t lasted more than a few hours. Some had screamed until they’d lost their voices.
The crowd wasn’t cheering for Jimmy anymore. It looked like he’d lost his bloodthirsty fans. Selling out your own kind could make you hated.
And targeted.
If I don’t kill him tonight, others will. In the paranormal world, you didn’t sell out your own kind, not to the humans. That was the one rule that shouldn’t be broken.
“I didn’t sell nobody out!” Jimmy yelled. His gaze darted around the cage. Looking for a way out. Unless the guy shifted, there was no way for him to escape, and Cain wasn’t about to give him time for a shift.
“Yes,” Cain said flatly, “you did.” It was his turn to leap forward. His turn to attack. Jimmy tried to slip away, but that snake just wasn’t fast enough. Cain slammed his hand and his fire right into Jimmy’s chest. The shifter screamed and the scent of burning flesh filled his nostrils.
“Sonofabitch.” Trace yanked Eve away from the cage. “We’re getting out of here, now.”
They weren’t the only ones looking to flee. Everyone seemed to be running away from the cage.
Animals were often afraid of fire, and the animals inside the shifters were never very far from the surface.
But while the others were screaming and running—those flames weren’t even that high yet—Eve dug in her heels. She’d come to that warehouse for a reason. She wasn’t leaving without Vance—or Cain. “Go,” she told Trace and yanked away from him.
He never held her too tightly. When it came to women, he was always conscious of his strength. With his past, he couldn’t be any other way.
“I’ll meet you back at your place.” She didn’t wait for his response. She lunged through the crowd and headed for the entrance to the cage. Okay, maybe those flames were getting pretty high in there.
But Vance wasn’t dead. He’d rolled and put out the flames on his chest. His flesh was blistered, charred, and the snake tattoo had sure gotten scorched. The flames scattered around him, licking at the floor and at the edges of the cage.
Cain stood in the middle of that chaos. His hands were at his sides and his gaze was on Vance.
She grabbed for the cage door.
“Oh no, sweet thing,” a hard voice told her.
And just that fast, Eve found herself in a grip that hurt. A man held her arms. A big, burly guy with lots of piercings and slicked-back red hair. “I want to see how this one ends. Got me two grand riding on the snake.”
She twisted and kicked, but the guy didn’t let her go. Crap. “You’re . . . gonna lose that money . . .” Eve gasped out as she fought to break free.
If he didn’t let her go and get out of there before those flames got much higher, he might just wind up losing his life, too.
Jimmy lifted his hands. “D-don’t kill me!”
The first blast hadn’t been meant to kill. Only to hurt. To show the snake just what it felt like to be tortured.
“Weeks,” Cain snapped out as he stalked his prey. Smoke rose in the air, heavy and thick, and Jimmy started to cough. “For weeks, they kept me chained up. They cut into me. Sliced me apart. Drugged me.”
Jimmy’s back was pressed against the side of the cage. The guy actually whimpered.
This was the tough SOB that the crowd had cheered for? The guy looked like he was about to piss his pants.
Some paranormals liked to give pain, but they just couldn’t take it.
Some . . . like soon-to-be-dead Jimmy.
“How much?” Cain demanded, a foot away from Jimmy. One more touch, and he’d incinerate the guy. Just one. “How much was my life worth to you?”
Jimmy’s gaze darted to the left. To the right. And—wait, did a faint smile curve his thin lips?
Cain tensed. Jimmy shouldn’t be smiling. Begging, yes. Smiling, no.
Jimmy’s shoulders straightened and his chin shoved out. “You were worth more than the others. Twenty thousand”—Jimmy paused—“then.” His small smile widened to show his curving fangs. “The price is double now.”
The price is double now. Cain’s body stiffened
“It’s a two-for-one deal this time,” Jimmy said, voice strengthening. Definitely turning into a cocky bastard once more. “Genesis doesn’t just want you—they want the pretty girl you escaped with. The same girl who’s fighting to get in this cage. To get to you.”
Cain’s head whipped to the right. Eve was fighting some giant jerk, twisting and punching in his hands and he was—
The bastard hit her back.
Cain roared his fury.
Then he heard the thunder of. . . gunshots.
“Dumbass, I figured you’d show tonight. I knew you’d want my blood.” Jimmy scrambled back against the cage wall. “But guess what? They want yours, too. And you’re not escapin’ tonight. Wyatt’s getting you and you won’t ever escape again.”
The thunder of more bullets. Exploding. Firing.
Cain leaped to the side as those bullets tore through the cage.
He’d hit her so hard that her head snapped back. Everything went dim for a moment and then Eve could have sworn she heard fireworks popping.
“Sonofabitch.”
A familiar snarl. Trace. Hadn’t she told him to leave? Twice? She dug her nails into the giant’s arms and got ready to head butt him.
But the giant dropped her. Mostly because Trace had just clawed the guy’s side open.
“You sho
uld”—Trace snarled as he sliced again—“treat women with more respect.”
The giant scrambled back, tripped in his own blood, and—
And a bullet tore into the guy’s head.
Eve screamed. That hadn’t been fireworks. That sound had been the thunder of bullets. Her gaze flew around the area. Armed men were storming in. Men who wore all black and were covered with heavy, bulletproof vests. Men who were shooting at the paranormals. Taking them out with cold precision.
“Time to go,” Trace said, voice flat.
“Not without Cain! I—”
A barrage of bullets slammed into the cage.
“No!”
The bullets didn’t hit Cain. They thudded into a smiling Vance . . . who stopped smiling once his blood splattered around him. When he hit the floor, his face had locked in lines of stunned horror.
Cain . . . wasn’t in the cage. The left side of the cage hung open. He’d burned his way out.
He was attacking the armed men. Using his fire. Fighting back.
Heading for her with eyes that blazed.
“Before that crazy hoss gets here, we’re leaving,” Trace snapped. Sprinklers burst on from overhead and the water soaked them. A shrill alarm cut through the room. “Come on!”
With the bullets and the blood and the growing fire around her, Eve went with him.
She couldn’t afford to be caught again. And Cain—she knew the armed men wouldn’t catch him. He was too strong for them.
Already, the fire was thickening. The sprinklers and the gushing water couldn’t stop Cain’s fire. It was hard to see through the smoke and flames. But Trace knew the way out—through some back door that took them up a narrow flight of stairs and spit them out into the waning night.
Trace sucked in a deep, heaving breath, his hold on her never loosening. Her gaze swept to the left, and—
The building was surrounded. Police cruisers with blazing blue lights had circled the warehouse.
“Put your hands up!” a voice blared from behind the line of cruisers. “Step away from the woman!”
Trace swore and stepped in front of her. Figured he’d do something like that. He stepped in front of her and lifted his hands. No claws sprang from his fingers, not yet. Eve knew they could appear in an instant.
Did the cops know who they were dealing with? The armed guys inside had known, but these local cops—Eve wasn’t so sure.
“I’m a reporter,” Eve called out, trying to defuse the situation. “People are being hurt inside and—”
A bullet blasted from a policeman’s gun and slammed into Trace’s shoulder.
People are being hurt out here, too.
“Screw this,” Trace growled. He turned, grabbed Eve, and tossed her over his shoulder. Her head slammed into his back and before she could suck in a strong breath, he was running. That shifter could run fast. She bounced along his shoulder, holding on as best she could. Bullets were flying, and the white-hot burn of one grazed the skin of her leg.
Then they were leaping through the air, clearing one of the parked police cars in one jump—because yeah, some shifters could do that.
And some could run freakishly fast, even in human form. Trace had always been one of the strongest shifters Eve had ever met, and the guy certainly wasn’t disappointing her.
She held tight to Trace and managed to glance back one final time . . . just as the warehouse exploded and all the cops scrambled away, screaming.
“Do you think he’s dead?”
Eve glanced up at Trace’s voice. They’d made it back to his house easily enough. The blaze had stopped the cops dead in their tracks.
Why had cops been attacking? Jeez, she’d thought the cops had vowed to protect and serve everyone. Not just the humans.
“Subject Thirteen,” Trace said as he walked into the bedroom he’d given her for the night. “Do you think he made it out?”
“Fire wouldn’t hurt him.” She’d changed into an old T-shirt and a pair of loose jeans. Trace had bandaged her leg, and she’d dug the bullet out of his shoulder.
Just like old times. Almost.
The wooden floor creaked beneath his footsteps. “You didn’t mention that the new boyfriend was a serious pyro.”
New boyfriend. She glanced up from the story she’d been working on. A story that included tortured paranormals, rogue scientists, and crooked cops. The sooner she got this story to a media outlet, the better. She had a great connection at the Atlanta Daily. The paper could have this story on their Web edition first thing, then it could hit print and—
“Before anything else happens, I think you might need to back up a bit and tell me a little more about Thirteen.” Trace leaned his hip against the desk and stared down at her.
Eve lifted one brow. “Did you crack the password for me?”
“Uh, yeah. In about two seconds.”
Perfect—that was the proof she’d need to take to the editor and—
“But you’re not getting that laptop, not until you answer a few questions for me.”
Seriously? Did she look like she needed this hard time right then?
“Want to tell me why Thirteen seemed like he was ready to rip my head off?”
Um, she’d missed that part. She’d been a bit distracted by other things. “The guy has some anger issues.” Understatement. From what she’d seen, Cain had more than a few issues. In the interest of keeping Trace unscathed, she added, “If you see him, you’d be safer if you didn’t get within touching distance.”
His shoulders straightened. “I’m not exactly easy prey here.”
No, he wasn’t, but they weren’t just talking about your average paranormal predator, either. “I’ve seen him burn men alive. Don’t let him touch you.”
Silence.
Trace’s eyes weighed her. “And what happens when he touches you?”
Eve’s heart raced faster in her chest. I burn. Only the fire simmered inside her, igniting a hungry lust that she could barely control. “It doesn’t matter. I’m working on a story, doing my job.” Stopping other paranormals from being exploited. Hurt. Killed. “He’s long gone now and—”
Trace’s head cocked to the side. “I’d guess again,” he murmured, taking a step away from her, heading toward the door.
“What?” He’d lost her. Then she heard the sound of breaking glass, and Trace’s alarm system began to beep.
“Company’s calling,” he threw the words over his shoulder as he hurried from the room.
Company? Cain? No, he wouldn’t follow her. He’d left her at that truck stop, not the other way around. She hadn’t been the one to ditch their new partnership.
But Eve rushed out of that room because whoever was breaking in, well, she wasn’t leaving Trace to handle them alone.
He was already down the stairs and—
Arms wrapped around her. Strong. Hard. She was hauled back against a body that, yes, dammit, she already recognized by touch. Rather hard to mistake those abs. They left quite the impression on a girl’s memory.
“Cain.”
The alarm stopped beeping. She heard footsteps coming back toward her. Trace would know exactly where the intruder was. That shifter nose of his would lead him right back to them.
And, sure enough, she saw Trace’s blond head appear at the bottom of the stairs. He stared up at them, eyes angry, intense.
Trace wasn’t attacking, not yet, but his jaw was locked tight as he ordered, “Let her go.”
She could feel the tension running through Cain’s body. The scent of smoke clung to him. His face was near the side of her head, and when he spoke, his breath blew over the shell of her ear, sending a shiver through her.
“You’re not safe,” he whispered.
Eve swallowed. Her body fit against his too well. “Is that why you decided to do some breaking and entering?” She turned easily in his arms. His hold hadn’t been meant to keep her immobile, but . . . to do what? Pull her close? “The last time I saw you, the bullet
s were flying. Seems to me, you’re the one who isn’t safe.”
“We’re being hunted.” His gaze narrowed on her jaw and then he caught her chin and carefully lifted it up, swearing when he saw the tender mark on her flesh. “That fucking asshole bruised you.”
Yeah, well, when a bear swung at you, that hit tended to leave a mark. The graze on her leg hurt worse, but she wasn’t about to point that injury out to him.
“Don’t worry,” Trace said as he headed up the stairs. “I damn near gutted him.”
She glanced back over her shoulder and found Trace staring up at Cain with icy eyes. “And I can do the same to you . . .”
Okay, now she swung back around and deliberately planted her body between the two men. Seeing those two battle wasn’t exactly her idea of a fun time.
Trace was the only family she had. And Cain—
Cain could seriously hurt Trace. Burn him.
She didn’t want him killing her only family. So when Trace charged up those last few steps, she shoved one hand on his chest and one hand on Cain’s. “Stop.” They weren’t enemies.
You’re being hunted.
She had the bullet wound to prove it.
“Is this the cop?” Cain demanded in a voice that vibrated with a leashed fury. “The one you told me about?”
Her gaze swung between the two men.
Trace kept glowering. Right. As if he’d ever be confused with a cop. He’d spent too much time behind bars for that to happen.
When he’d been sixteen, Trace had killed a man. That had been the day his claws had first broken free.
“Trace isn’t a cop,” she said, proud of the way she kept her voice steady. And really, what was Cain even rambling about? She hadn’t told him about any cop.
“Then where’s the boyfriend?” Cain wanted to know. “The big, tough-cop-badass you told me about when we were back at Genesis?”
Eve’s face flushed as she finally figured out what he was rambling about. When Wyatt had thrown her at Cain, she’d told him about her fictional lover. My cop boyfriend is going to hunt me down and kick your asses!