Consumed by Fire (Fire 1)

She sat up abruptly. Jesus, where did that come from?

It was the simple truth: no matter how much he had lied, used her, no matter how dangerous a man he truly was, she still loved him, and the more she tried not to, the tighter the bonds grew.

She’d thought she was over him. She had barely thought of him in the last few years, and when she did her reaction had been fury, pure and simple. Hurt and betrayal had vanished in her righteous rage.

But now it was back full force, reminding her of just how much she still felt for him.

One day away from New Orleans, and he’d happily pass her off to someone else. One night in the creepy-looking farmhouse, a day on the road, and she could say good-bye to him forever. She just had to hold out that long.

He stopped the vehicle, then came back into the camper. She met his gaze stonily, which clearly didn’t bother him. “Stay put,” he said. “I need to check the place out first, then I’ll come back and get you.”

“All right.” It was shadowy enough that he wouldn’t see the tears on her cheeks. She glanced at the dog beside her. “I think Merlin wants to go with you.” The German shepherd had risen, his body tense, almost like a soldier standing at attention.

Bishop raised his eyebrows. “You mean he’ll leave your side? Miracles never cease. What kind of magic potion did you put in his food anyway, to turn him into such a pussycat?”

“Love.” The answer was out before she could think twice, and the silence in the cabin was as thick as the humid Texas air coming in the open door.

Finally he spoke. “Well, I’m fresh out of that.” Merlin bounded past him into the gathering darkness. “Stay put,” he said to her again, and he was gone.

Shit. He’d made her cry. He was every bit the asshole she’d called him. He’d heard every word she’d whispered to Merlin—You don’t think I’m terrible, do you? I was just hurting so badly—and he wanted to punch something. Why the fuck had he done that, thrown it in her face like she’d done something wrong? He didn’t give a shit how many people she’d fucked.

Well, he did care, because he begrudged every damned one of them, and because it had hurt her. And still hurt her, even though she’d been looking for something to ease the pain. The pain he’d caused her. Around and around it went, in circles of cruelty he hadn’t planned on, but it didn’t mean shit whether he planned it or not. It had happened, and he couldn’t fix it. He only made it worse.

The air outside the camper was so thick with heat and humidity that it felt like a steam bath, and it was well past the heat of the day. What would it be like midday?

Probably just what New Orleans would feel like, the city he’d chosen to house the new branch of the Committee. He’d picked the city; Ryder had picked the house. Bishop was impervious to weather—it took him just moments to acclimate, to move from the refrigerated cool of the RV to air so thick you could eat it with a fork. Would Evangeline be able to adapt as easily? Then again, she wouldn’t have to for long. As soon as it was safe, she’d be back in her ivory tower in northern Wisconsin with a brand-new camper and truck thanks to the Committee, and she’d never have to think about him again. He just wished he could say the same thing for himself.

He couldn’t stop thinking about her, worrying about her, and he was destroying her. Huge live oaks surrounded the front of the farmhouse, and he wanted to punch one. He’d break bones in his hands and put them in more danger, he reminded himself. No, he didn’t have the luxury of taking his frustration out on inanimate objects. He had to stay on task, shut out any extraneous feelings he might have. Feelings. He wanted to laugh. He wasn’t allowed feelings, and he damned well didn’t want them.

Merlin returned from his pace around the building, which meant the place was clean, but the dog was still unusually tense. “What’s up, boy?” Bishop murmured, squatting down beside him. “Something wrong?”

Merlin looked at him for a moment, then toward the RV, and Bishop sighed. “Yeah, you don’t like being away from her, do you? She’s got you suckered good. Join the club.”

All the security measures were still in place when he climbed up the sagging front porch and unlocked the front door. The air-conditioning had been turned on, and cool air spilled out into the evening air.

His search of the place was deliberate, despite the security measures and Merlin’s approval. He never took anything for granted, and they were up against very smart, very dangerous people. When he was finally convinced the house was safe, he headed down the stairs to the front hall.

Evangeline

was standing there, the door shut behind her, her backpack in one hand, Merlin resting against her side, and he wanted to explode in fury. Why the fuck couldn’t she ever do what he told her to?

He closed his eyes and counted to three before acknowledging her presence. He didn’t want to make things worse by yelling at her.

“I told you to stay in the camper,” he said in a dangerously calm voice.

She’d gotten her second wind, and no longer looked so fragile. “You took too long, and that place is like an oven when the air-conditioning is turned off. I figured if you weren’t done by now you were probably dead, and I would be too, and I wanted a shower before I died. I decided that wasn’t too much to ask from the universe.”

“You think too much,” he growled. “We’ll keep to the first floor—there are three bedrooms on this level and I don’t intend to sleep, so take your pick. No, take the one at the back. It’s closest to the door if you need to get out fast.”

Of course she picked up on it. “You don’t intend to sleep? You’ve been driving nonstop for two days, and you plan to drive . . . what . . . another eight hundred miles tomorrow?”

“It’s only about five hundred miles. And I don’t need much sleep.”

“I believe it. But that doesn’t mean you don’t need any. If this place is as safe as you say it is, then there’s no reason you can’t get a few hours’ sleep.”

“I’ll think about.” He pinned her with his stare. “Why do you care one way or another?”

“I don’t,” she said immediately, and he knew it was a lie. “I’d just rather not die in a fiery crash on the highway when you nod off and drift into oncoming traffic.”