Shadows & Secrets (Lick of Fire Book 4) Page 9

“Tell me what’s bothering you.”

  I sighed. Loudly. Took a swig of whiskey from the bottle and wiped my mouth with the back of my arm.

  “Okay, let me guess. It’s SIA related.”

  “How do you do that?” I complained, waving the bottle at him.

  “Because I’m a trained SIA agent who is good at reading people. And like it or not Rae, you’re an open book.”

  “You’re not.” I grumbled, “you’re a teenager’s journal complete with lock and secret hiding place.”

  He laughed and patted my knee, “with training you’ll be able to read me. Anyone actually. Spit it out, what’s the problem.”

  “I found something.”

  This got his attention, his head swiveled toward me quickly before he returned his attention back to the road.

  “About the case?” He asked.

  I shrugged, “No. It’s about my grandpa. And my dad.”

  “Oh?”

  “You know, don’t you?” I accused, hitting him in the shoulder.

  “Ow. Cut it out. No, I don’t know anything about your grandfather or your dad – except for what I’ve read in your file.”

  “Oh.”

  “What was it that you found?”

  “It’s better if I show you.” Leaning my head back I closed my eyes, letting the rumble of the engine and sway of the truck lull me. I still wasn’t sleeping well. Nightmares from my past haunted me and I’d wake up shaking and crying for Grandpa. Only he wasn’t here anymore, he was long gone, just the memory that shimmered out of my grasp as I reached for it.

  When I’d eventually fall asleep again the memories of Grandpa were replaced by the horrors of the Institute and my time there. The pain. The abuse. The mind-numbing drugs. For years I’d carried the scars, physical as well as mental. Now the physical ones were gone, burned away by fire, but the mental ones would be with me forever. I guess it was true what they all said, I was one crazy psycho.

  “Come on sleepy head, we’re home.” My door opened and I almost tumbled out. Well I would have if it wasn’t for my seatbelt holding me in place. It took a few embarrassingly long seconds for me to realize that the belt was the reason I couldn’t get out. Jordan stood back, arms crossed, and watched.

  “It feels weird calling you Jordan.” Finally freeing myself I slid out and slammed the door shut.

  “I shudder to think what is going on in that brain of yours.” Was his response. At the front door he studied my keys before inserting the correct one into the lock and opening the door.

  He ushered me inside and then made his way to the kitchen, making himself at home.

  “Coffee?” He asked.

  “Are you kidding me? No. No I do not want coffee. Why would I want coffee when I have this?” I waved the whiskey bottle at him. He shrugged and got busy with the coffee maker. I’d forgotten he knew this house, knew Grandma. He’d clearly made coffee in this kitchen many times before.

  “You drink to forget, don’t you?” He said, back to me. I sighed and sat on a kitchen stool, spinning the whiskey bottle around and around in front of me. I drank to forget, but I drank because I liked it. I liked the burn and I liked the numbness, the dizziness. It took me out of myself – that’s what I liked. But I could see where this was going. He wanted to save me. Only I couldn’t be saved, I was damaged goods and the sooner he realized that, the better.

  “Don’t tell me,” I sneered, “you can help? There are better ways? Have I tried meditation? Yoga? Hypnosis?”

  He glanced at me over his shoulder, surprise on his face. “Ouch.”

  I snorted. “Don’t tell me that isn’t where that was going. I may be psycho but I’m not stupid.” He had the grace to look sheepish and I spun the lid off the whiskey bottle and took another slug. Give up drinking? Never.

  “What are all the boxes out front?” He asked, changing the subject. Smart man.

  “Dad wanted me to pack up Grandpa’s den. Which reminds me. I’ve changed my mind, he’s not getting them, if he wants them he can damn well come and pack them up himself.” Sliding off the stool I stomped to the front door and slammed it open, dragging the boxes back inside.

  “O…kay.” Jordan stood watching from the hallway, freshly made coffee in hand.

  “There’s something in these books he wants. I didn’t realize at first, but then I found the file and then it all made perfect sense. I hadn’t been looking – checking, I just chucked everything in and sealed the box but now that I know…I have to check.”

  “Check for what? What file?”

  “I’m pretty sure you know.” There was an accusatory tone in my voice that I couldn’t hide. He had been friends with Grandma. She’d told him all about our fire demon history. She had to have known Grandpa had been SIA. She would have told Jordan that. For sure.

  “I swear I don’t, I’ve already told you once and I’m not going to beg you to believe me. I don’t do begging.”

  “Shame.” Lewd images danced through my head at the thought of Jordan begging.

  “Now what are you thinking about?” Oh he knew, the way his eyes had darkened told me he was thinking exactly the same thing – only he wanted me to say it. I wasn’t going to make it that easy for him.

  “What color to paint the den. Now that I’m clearing it out I may as well renovate.”

  My sudden change in subject took him by surprise, his eyes widened, then narrowed and he hid a grin behind his coffee cup.

  “Will you keep the furniture?” He asked, following me into the den where I pushed the box and left it in the middle of the floor.

  “I don’t think so. It’s so dark and heavy and worn out. I like lighter stuff. White maybe? I may even turn this into my bedroom. I don’t know yet.”

  “No more plans of leaving then?”

  “I tried and failed and have a great big bloody fine to show for my troubles. It seemed important to Grandma that I stay – I’ll give it my best shot.” It was true, I’d reconciled to the idea that I was here to stay, for a year at least. I’d texted a friend in Fairbanks and asked them to pack up my apartment, sell the shitty furniture and box up what was left and send it to me. Keep the winter gear – it wouldn’t be needed in Maxxan.

  I’d also noticed my demon wasn’t as out of control as I remembered. I’d had a couple of flare ups but nothing like my youth. Combined with the training I’d done with Jordan I finally felt like I had a grip on things – even if it was a tenuous grip, it was better than flailing around with no hold on reality.

  “Ready to tell me about your grandfather?” Jordan settled on to the worn chesterfield, arm along the back, the other balancing the coffee mug on his knee.

  “Wait here.” Putting the whiskey bottle on the floor I rushed upstairs, retrieved the file from under my mattress and returned, standing in front of Jordan with it clutched to my chest.

  “I found this. Hidden. Under the floorboards.” I was breathless, puffing. He leaned forward but didn’t try and take the file.

  “Does that say…”

  “SIA” I supplied.

  “Ah,” he nodded, “hence your questions about the SIA. So your grandfather was an agent?”

  “I think so. Here.” I handed the file to him, then turned my attention to the box I’d dragged back inside. Ripping it open I tipped it upside down and all the books tumbled to the floor. Sitting cross legged I picked each one up and flicked through it, turned it upside down and shook it, searching for anything that may be hidden inside. When nothing fell out I placed it back in the box. I continued searching the books while Jordan read the file. It wasn’t a particularly thick file so it didn’t take long before he’d closed it and placed it on the sofa next to him. He looked at me.

  “I can see why you’d be rattled.” He said.

  “He suspected my dad.”

  Jordan nodded. “Yup.”

  “of something, but he never said what. I guess he thought he had all the time in the world to conduct his investigation.”

 
; “probably.”

  “Is that the best you’ve got? One-word answers? This is big. Huge! My grandfather was investigating my father! And then he was killed.”

  Silence, thick and heavy, descended over us. I was rapidly losing my buzz and eyed the whiskey bottle. Top up or sober up? Those were my options. The mood in the room was somber, and as tempting as that whiskey bottle was, I resisted. I felt like there should have been fireworks and confetti falling from the sky at this point, like I’d had a major epiphany or something, but nothing was forthcoming and I looked at Jordan in disappointment. Of course, he misunderstood because, apparently, he couldn’t read my mind.

  “I honestly didn’t know about any of this Rae.” He said, “I don’t think your Grandmother did either or she would have mentioned it to me. We talked, a lot. She told me everything she knew of your family’s history, what it meant to be a fire demon, but she was human – she only knew so much. And one of the SIA’s number one priorities is to keep the public from finding out about paranormals.”

  “And you say your dad wants the contents of the den?” He asked.

  “Yeah. Mom called. He didn’t have the balls to call me himself. I was instructed to pack everything up bar the furniture and leave it in boxes out the front.”

  “He’s searching for something. I wonder if he knew his dad was SIA?”

  I pinched the top of my nose, thinking. Hard. “Why now? Grandpa has been dead for over twenty years. Plenty of time to search this place. Why wait? It doesn’t make any sense.”

  “No, it doesn’t. Okay,” leaning forward, elbows on knees, now empty coffee cup cradled between his palms, he thought out loud, “so we know your grandfather thought your father was involved in something dodgy. Illegal – from a paranormal perspective. Then your grandfather is killed. But it isn’t until now, when your grandmother has died, that your dad has shown an interest in the contents of this room?”

  “So it’s doubtful dad knew Grandpa was SIA. Otherwise he’d have turned this room upside down as soon as he’d died.”

  “I agree. So why now? Coincidence? Or is he totally innocent and it is what it looks like on the surface – a son wanting to retain his family’s history.”

  “The contents of the house go equally between dad and my uncles. They had to sort it out themselves. My Aunts have already started the process – you’ve seen that. I’m not sure my Uncles even know that dad is cleaning out the den.”

  “Let’s see if we can find what he was looking for then.” Easing to the floor in front of me Jordan mimicked my cross-legged position and together we began searching through the books.

  “We could be here all night.” I warned.

  “If that’s what it takes.” He replied. I smiled. I liked this man. My smile died – the thought alone was terrifying. Liking someone was the first step on the road to love, and with love, came pain. It was a road I did not want to travel.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I panicked. It was what I do best. Instead of telling him that it was okay and he could leave, I dropped the book in my hands, cupped his face in my palms and kissed him. I saw the flash of surprise on his face a second before I locked my lips on his and then my eyes fluttered closed as the familiar heat that was him surrounded me and dragged me under.

  He was ambrosia to me. I couldn’t explain it, even if I tried. I’d kissed plenty of boys. Men. But none of them had the effect that Jordan had. The sizzling of my blood, the pounding of my heart, the tingling in my lady bits. All from one kiss.

  His hand reached out, wrapped around me neck, the other slid around my back and pulled me closer to him. We devoured each other, all mouths and tongue, hands exploring. I eased away slightly, my fingers gripping the hem of his t-shirt and tugging it up. He obliged, pulling away long enough to pull it over his head and toss it aside before his mouth was back on mine. His fingers curled in my hair and pulled and I groaned my delight while my fingers explored the expanse of his chest, the way his abs were so tight beneath my fingertips, the way his stomach sucked in when I explored lower.

  We were on the floor, he was on top of me, between my legs, one hand cupping my breast through my bra when he paused and looked down at me, those dark eyes of his mesmerizing.

  “Why are you stopping?” I breathed, “don’t stop.”

  “Rae.” The way he said my name, his voice full of regret. I froze, tensing beneath him. He felt it and eased up, sitting on his haunches.

  “Sorry. Could have sworn you wanted me.” I hid my hurt beneath sarcasm.

  “I do. I want you like you wouldn’t believe.” He muttered through gritted teeth.

  “Then why stop?” I didn’t understand. He wanted me, I was ready and willing. More than willing.

  “I don’t want to take advantage of you...and…”

  “What?” I scrambled away from him.

  “And I don’t want a one-night stand with you.”

  This was about morals? What century was he living in? “Are you serious?”

  “I don’t want to be another notch on your bedpost Rae – and don’t bullshit me by telling me you don’t have a very impressive list of past lovers.”

  “I wouldn’t call them impressive.” Most of them had been average at best.

  “You don’t want to sleep with me because I’ve had too many lovers?” Judgy bastard.

  “I don’t care about your past.” He was shaking his head while searching for his t-shirt, “I’m more interested in your future. You’re the hit it and quit it type.”

  “Didn’t know that was a crime.”

  “You’re not hearing me.”

  “Because you’re talking shit!” my voice rose with my frustration.

  Crossing the room in long strides he backed me up against an empty bookcase and my heart leaped with desire. This was more like it.

  “I want you Rae. More than you know. I want all of you. Not just your body, and not just for one night. I want you body, mind, and soul. I want you to be mine.”

  “You want a…relationship?” I was aghast.

  He inclined his head, “I do. I want forever. Because you and I, Rae? We’re fated.”

  “Get out.” I whispered, trembling. How dare he? How dare he ask that of me. He said he knew me, but he didn’t know me at all.

  “Rae-” he touched my cheek but I pushed him away, my anger flaring.

  “GET OUT!” My scream bounced from the walls, so loud I winced. Without a word he swiveled and left, the front door closing with a quiet click. I stood in my bra and jeans, chest heaving, mind whirling. I waited to hear the sound of his truck starting until I remembered he didn’t have a truck. He’d driven mine. So the bastard had to walk. Good.

  Finding my top, I pulled it over my head, uncaring that it was inside out. Sinking back down on the floor I grabbed the whiskey bottle and guzzled until I had to stop to draw a breath. Better. Numbing. I needed the numbness so I didn’t have to think. It was true, I didn’t do relationships. Not anymore. Because I fucked them up. I’d do something stupid and I’d get dumped and it hurt. It hurt that someone you liked, possibly could fall in love with would turn with hate in their eyes and scream at you that you were indeed a crazy fucked up psycho. And yet I’d tried, countless times, and I couldn’t blame the guy, for it was all me. I’d flirt, I’d cheat, I’d sabotaged every relationship I’d ever had. I was horrible. I was a horrible person.

  Guzzling more from the whiskey bottle I batted at the stray tear winding its way down my cheek. Picking up the next book in the pile I resumed the search. I’d focus on finding out what dad’s secret was, and nothing else. Not how hot Jordan Buchanan is, or his crazy belief that we’re fated. Fated mates my ass, there’s no such thing.

  * * *

  A god-awful banging noise jerked me awake and I sat up, peeling a book from my cheek. With aching joints, I pushed to my feet. I’d fallen asleep on a pile of books in the den. The banging at the front door continued and I yelled “okay, okay.” Wincing at the throbbing in my
head.

  Flinging open the door I frowned at Paige who stood looking perky and fresh in a floral dress, her hair pulled up in a high pony tail and swinging down her back with each movement of her head. Her cuteness made me want to hurl.

  “Big night?” she asked, pushing past me with a cardboard tray carrying two takeaway coffees and a brown paper bag.

  “Who told you?”

  “Jesus. Look at this place.” Paige stood and looked around the stripped kitchen and dining room. I shrugged, “weird huh?”

  “So weird. Cam said you’d started painting?”

  “Did the living room. Wanna see?” I waved down the hallway. Paige set the tray on the kitchen bench and I snatched up a coffee while she stuck her head in the living room door. “Looks good.” She called out.

  “Thanks.” Opening the bag, I peered inside, the smell hitting my nostrils had my stomach growling.

  “Bacon and egg sandwich. He called you didn’t he.” It wasn’t a question. Jordan had definitely called Paige.

  “He was…concerned.” She grinned unapologetically. “He cares about you Rae.”

  “Yeah well he shouldn’t. We all know it won’t end well.”

  “Oh ye of little faith.” She scoffed, removing the second sandwich from the bag and taking a bite. “What are you so afraid of?”

  “That I’ll fuck it up. I always do. And then you’ll all be angry with me for driving him away. Don’t think I don’t know that y’all are friends with him. Hell even Grandma was friends with him.”

  “He’s a good guy”

  “He probably is. But I’m not good for him.”

  Paige reached out and grabbed my hand. “Rae, you may not have noticed this, because you’re…well…you’re you – but…you’ve changed. You’re making an effort. The old you would have been on the first bus out of Maxxan without a backward glance, not giving a shit about Grandma’s wishes, but look at you, still here, pimping up the house.”

  I cringed. “Paige, I tried to leave. I had a ticket on the eight am bus. If it hadn’t been for the Sheriff booking me I’d have been long gone. You’re seeing what you want to see – a reformed Shelton. I don’t think I can ever be reformed.”