Playing With Fire Page 8

  “I thought you wanted him alive. He’s the most powerful of his kind! You need his DNA—”

  “I don’t need him at all. He’s a threat that will be eliminated.”

  The men were close to Dante. Too close.

  And . . . she could smell smoke. Could see the faint tendrils rising from his body in the bright light.

  When he burned, they’d attack. There might be no more risings. No more Dante.

  “Nothing is stronger than his fire.” She hoped that was true. Prayed it was. But in the government’s secret labs, anything could be created—and had been.

  A suit to resist a phoenix’s fire?

  No, please, no.

  “We’re about to find out.” Jon still held her.

  “They’ll die!”

  He didn’t respond. Did he care if those two men in white died?

  No, he didn’t. She’d seen beneath his mask too late. He wasn’t concerned with collateral damage. He never had been.

  But . . . but his hands weren’t holding her as tight anymore. His attention was totally focused on his two men as they closed in on their prey. One man had his gun just inches from Dante’s head.

  “Wait for the flames!” Jon yelled. “If you attack too soon, it won’t do anything. He can only be destroyed when he’s actually rising! The regeneration isn’t complete then!”

  “That gun had better be phoenix fireproof, too,” Cassie snapped. “Because if it isn’t, your boys are going to die!”

  The fire began to burn along Dante’s body. Sweeping up, flaming higher and higher.

  “Go to hell, shifter.” Jon’s rough snarl had nausea tightening her stomach.

  But his grip on her eased even more as he moved a bit to the side in order to better watch the show.

  Your mistake.

  She drove back with her elbow. Slammed it into his stomach and jumped forward. “Dante!”

  The man with the gun was leaning closer to him.

  Jon tried to grab her. Not happening. A burst of speed and a wild lunge shot her forward, slamming her body into the man in white—the jerk who thought he’d shoot her phoenix.

  They hit the ground. Rolled. When she looked up, that gun was pointed right between her eyes.

  “Stand down!” Jon yelled. “Stand—”

  The whoosh of fire cut through his words. She felt the heat lance her skin, and she glanced up in time to see flames rolling toward her.

  The other man who’d approached Dante—the second man in the fireproof suit—was rolling on the ground. His suit was burning.

  So much for being fireproof.

  “Nothing is strong enough to resist a phoenix’s burn,” she said as she glared back at the man with the gun. “Instead of pointing that thing at me, you should be saying thanks. ’Cause I just saved your ass from the flames.”

  The guy’s buddy was screaming. His teammates immediately started spraying a thick, heavy extinguisher fluid on him.

  And Dante kept burning.

  The man with the gun hadn’t lowered his weapon. He also hadn’t said thanks.

  “We have to get her out of here.” Jon’s voice. He was no longer sounding so smug. He shoved the gun away and hauled Cassie back to her feet. “I’m getting her out in the chopper. Load up in the vehicles and clear out.”

  His hand was bruising her as he yanked her behind him. Her gaze flew around the area. The man who’d burned—he was out of his suit, looking unharmed, but shaken.

  Another few moments, and he wouldn’t have been so lucky.

  “Dante!” She shouted his name as her gaze focused on the fire that surrounded him. She couldn’t even see him over the flames. The fire was so high. Raging. Consuming.

  She dug in her heels, fighting to stay back. She couldn’t get on that helicopter with Jon. He’d make her disappear, just as Genesis had made so many others disappear over the years.

  She had work to do. People who were counting on her down in Mississippi. Cassie knew that if she didn’t get back to them, they’d die.

  Or . . . they’d kill.

  “Let me go!”

  But Jon didn’t let her go. “Couldn’t do this the easy way, could you? Sorry, baby, but I don’t have any drugs to give you.”

  Good. That would mean that she could keep fighting him. She punched him.

  He punched her right back with a punch that had a whole lot more strength than hers. The blow staggered her. When she stumbled, Jon lifted her into his arms. “Get that chopper moving!” he yelled.

  The wind beat against her. The whoop-whoop-whoop filled the air again.

  But she still heard the roar of fury quite clearly. They all did. As that roar shook the night, everyone seemed to freeze for a moment.

  She lifted her head, fighting to see Dante. She knew that roar had come from him.

  She’d heard him make the same sound before. Or, rather, she’d heard the phoenix make that sound.

  But Jon was shoving her into the helicopter. Holding her down.

  “Get us out of here!” he snarled to the pilot.

  Her gaze flew over his shoulder.

  The flames had died down, fallen just enough for her to see that Dante was standing strong. His shoulders were bare—the fire always burned away his clothes—and he was striding forward.

  He was looking at the helicopter.

  At her.

  “Dante!” She had to get to him. If she didn’t stop him, he’d rage out of control.

  But Jon’s hold on her wasn’t loosening.

  “Dammit, he’ll kill them!” Cassie cried.

  Dante’s fire was racing out and following the fleeing men in their not-so-phoenix-proof suits.

  Jon frowned. “You’re the mission, not them.”

  The helicopter was rising into the air.

  Dante ran toward her. Faster.

  “Don’t kill them!” she screamed. “Dante, pull the fire back! Pull it back!”

  He was still running. The flames were burning.

  She had to get out of that helicopter.

  “Hold her!” Jon snapped.

  Hard hands grabbed her—one of his men? She was shoved against one of the helicopter’s seats. Held down.

  Jon lifted his gun and fired. Six shots. In fast succession. “That’ll buy the men on the ground some time.”

  She knew what he’d done.

  Six shots. Jon had always been such a damn fine shot.

  “Three to the heart,” Jon said. “Three to the head.”

  Her lips trembled, but she lifted her chin. “He’ll come back.”

  “Doesn’t he always?” Jon glanced down at her. “But he won’t be able to find you. Hell, maybe we’ll be lucky, and he won’t remember you at all.”

  She was buckled into a seat then. Jon was beside her. Her body ached and throbbed, but that pain didn’t matter.

  The thing that hurt the worst?

  Her heart seemed to have been carved right out of her chest.

  She was afraid that he was right. Dante wouldn’t find her. Despite her hopes, hell, he probably wouldn’t remember her at all.

  While she could never forget him.

  The helicopter turned, circling around, and she stared down below. A circle of fire surrounded him, showing his splayed body. He’d fallen so that he stared straight up at the sky. He wasn’t moving at all.

  But she knew that, soon enough, he would be.

  Please, please, remember me.

  Without him, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to escape.

  The fire swept around him. The flames were like voices. Laughing. Mocking. Burning.

  He felt claws dig into his skin. White-hot knives that cut and tore as he fought his way out of hell.

  He couldn’t stay in the fire. There was something he needed.

  Something he had to have.

  He shouted as the flames spun around him. Dante fought his way through that fire, determined to get to—

  Her.

  The flames flickered, and he rose
to his feet. The fire was burning beneath his skin, clawing him from the inside, but he took a step forward.

  Another.

  He could hear the distant whir of a helicopter.

  They’d taken her on the helicopter.

  The memories were there. Strong and sharp. He could see her face. The delicate beauty. The stark fear that she’d felt as that bastard had taken her away.

  A fatal mistake.

  The man would die for that.

  Dante looked up into the air and saw only the stars. The helicopter was gone.

  His Cassandra was gone.

  But every memory that he’d ever had—so many lifetimes—those memories were back.

  He smiled and began to hunt.

  No one takes her from me.

  Cassie stared at the door of her cell, and wondered if Jon was planning to feed her any time soon. She wasn’t exactly sure how much time had passed, but the gnawing in her stomach told her it had been at least a day since she’d left Dante.

  When the helicopter had touched down, Jon had met up with more of his men and, of course, they’d immediately drugged her. The better for her not to see where the hell they were taking her.

  She’d woken in her cell. And it was most definitely a cell for prisoners, not some nice room for guests, no matter how Jon wanted to spin the place. All of eight feet wide and seven feet long, Cassie had been pacing that cell for hours. No windows. One door.

  And lights that were too damn bright.

  She heard the click of a lock and spun toward her door just as it swung open.

  Jon stood there. He arched a brow as his blue gaze swept over her. His lips quirked in that mildly amused smile she detested. “Cassie, who would have thought we’d end up like this?”

  She wanted to rip him apart. But she had to play it smart, so she didn’t move at all. “Like this?” she repeated carefully as she raised a brow. “You mean with you being a kidnapper and a killer and me being your prisoner?” She shook her head. “Um, no, I didn’t ever think we’d end up quite like this.”

  The first time she’d seen Jon, he’d been one of the new recruits brought in to Genesis. One of the actual volunteers—because he’d been human. A soldier who’d agreed to become part of an experimental unit for Uncle Sam.

  Humans who had their bodies enhanced by science. He’d wanted to be a true super soldier.

  She’d tried to warn him to leave then.

  He hadn’t.

  Of course, back then, she’d just thought he was being misled. That he was clueless about what the government was doing to the paranormals.

  Her gaze cut to her cell. Not so clueless anymore.

  “Cassie . . .” He sighed out her name as he came closer to her. “You know it doesn’t have to be like this. We need you—”

  “We?” She shook her head. “In case you missed the dozens of news stories that have been running lately, Genesis is dead. My father? Gone. Public opinion is against you. No one wants the paranormals tortured—”

  “I’m not torturing anyone.”

  Bull. “I’m about to collapse from hunger. You’ve held me here without—”

  His fingers skimmed down her cheek. Goosebumps immediately rose on her flesh, and not the good kind of goose bumps.

  “Baby, do you really think a little hunger equals torture?” His eyes hardened. “I could show you real torture. The kind that makes a man scream for hours.”

  Her throat went dry. “When did you become like this?” she whispered.

  He smiled. “You were always so blind. But . . . hey, my timing was good, right? If your phoenix hadn’t just broken out of the facility when I arrived for my therapy—”

  Therapy? Was that what he was seriously calling it?

  “Then we never would have gotten as . . . close . . . as we did.”

  She knew her cheeks had flushed. She’d been twenty-two when Dante escaped—the first time, anyway.

  She’d been sure that he’d never come back. Jon had pursued her for months, and she’d been hesitant to trust him.

  Should have stuck with my instincts.

  But she’d been so lonely and she’d missed Dante so much. When the months had slipped into a year, she’d finally agreed to date Jon.

  He’d wanted more from her and had made it clear. She just hadn’t realized quite how much more he wanted, not until he started talking marriage.

  I couldn’t marry him. How could I marry one man when I wanted another? Even when that “other” had forgotten her.

  “We have a chance to do something very special together, Cassie,” Jon said as his gaze held hers. “With your brains and my resources, the world could be ours.”

  No. “I don’t want the world. I just want away from you.” Because she’d seen, after she’d turned down his proposal, the real Jon. The Jon that was cold and diabolical—and willing to do anything to get what he wanted.

  His eyes narrowed. “Getting away isn’t an option.” His nostrils flared. “You know . . . you smell even better now than you did when I first met you. But that’s part of what he did to you, isn’t it?”

  He . . . Jon wasn’t talking about Dante. He was talking about her father.

  “No one knows the full extent of my father’s experiments,” she said. “His files were destroyed when the two Genesis labs were—”

  “Obliterated?”

  They had been.

  “I know what your blood can do.” Jon was staring at her neck.

  She could feel her heartbeat drumming madly and wondered if he saw the frantic movement of her pulse just beneath the skin.

  With his enhancements, she bet he could.

  “You’re a weapon, Cassie, one that I intend to use.”

  He surprised her. “You—you brought me here for my blood?”

  “Um, that’s part of the reason. I’ll take that blood, study it. Replicate the poison.”

  The poison that could take down a vampire in seconds. The poison that lived in her.

  “But I want more, Cassie. I want you to work with me. You’re the best researcher in paranormal genetics. You could create soldiers, design a fighting force that the world has never seen.”

  A force that the world wouldn’t be able to handle. No, thank-you.

  “I’m not making any more monsters.” She shook her head. “You can keep me locked up for as long as you want, but I’m not doing—”

  He was laughing at her. “Cassie, Cassie . . . so brave, now. But as we discussed, you really don’t know much about torture.” He backed away from her. Looked mildly regretful. “That’s about to change.”

  She knew more about torture than he realized.

  The door opened behind him once more.

  “This time, you get to see what it’s like to be the test subject,” Jon said as he tilted his head to study her. “And I’m afraid that this part will hurt.”

  Guards came in then. They grabbed her. One lifted her upper body, one caught her thrashing legs. In less than a minute’s time, they had her strapped down on a gurney. The wheels were squeaking as they rolled her down the hallway.

  She screamed for help, but her screams were met with silence.

  Jon brushed the hair off her forehead. “You should probably save your strength.”

  “And you’re a sadistic bastard who should let me go!”

  He just smiled. The smile that flashed his dimples. The smile that chilled her.

  She was pushed into another room. A room with even brighter lighting. And men and women in lab coats came toward her. A hysterical bubble of laughter broke from her.

  Jon thought he was so smart, trying to frighten her by making her the test subject. I’ve been the test subject my whole life. Try again, jackass.

  “Remember times like this?” His hand was still on her forehead. “I was strapped down once.”

  He’d volunteered for it. Been eager to jump on that gurney. No one had taken him, kicking and screaming.

  “But you still came in that day, a
nd you tried to get me out of there. Tried to get me to leave.” His brows lowered. “What the hell were you thinking?”

  That she could save him.

  But he hadn’t left. He had turned her in. If it hadn’t been for her family connections, she would have been killed for her actions that day.

  “We need to find out what dear old daddy did to you. That way, we can do the same thing to others.”

  And what? Eradicate the vampires with her poison blood?

  “Should we sedate the patient?” one of the doctors asked.

  “I’m not a patient!” Cassie screamed. Seriously, they saw that she was fighting.

  “No sedation, but we should probably gag her.” Jon did. The bastard actually tied a gag around her mouth.

  The doctors just watched.

  “Dr. Shaw, we’re going to need extensive blood work, skin grafting, a spinal tap, a bone marrow sample . . .” Jon began to rattle off all the procedures. The doctor nodded quickly and pushed instrument trays closer to her.

  Cassie shook her head.

  “We’ll keep her stationary for some of the procedures—temporary paralysis may be needed—but we want to make certain that Cassie is fully aware of everything that happens to her.” He bent toward her face. Smiled again. “That way, the lesson will stay with her much, much longer.” He put his mouth near her ear. “After this, you’ll do anything to make sure you’re not the one who winds up on the table.”

  Her gaze flew toward the men and women in lab coats Tears were leaking down her cheeks. Please . . . She knew her eyes said what she couldn’t. Help me. Don’t let him do this. Don’t you do this to me.

  But they wouldn’t meet her gaze.

  The first needle was driven into her vein, and at almost the exact same time, a scalpel sliced across her arm.

  Jon eased away from her, but he didn’t leave the room.

  He just stood back there and watched.

  She didn’t cry out. Like she could with the gag. But she wasn’t going to give him the pleasure of watching her pain. Her gaze turned up to the light.

  It isn’t me. It isn’t me. She just had to pretend that the pain was happening to someone else.

  He thought it was her first time to be under the knife? How did he think her blood had come to be poison?

  She stared up at that light. Focused only on it.