So I kept on running.
My pulse was racing as fast as my feet and sweat was beginning to trickle down my spine. I’d let my fitness slip since leaving my clique, and I might just pay the price for that slackness now, because the footsteps of my pursuer were getting closer and closer.
Panic rolled through me, sending a surge of energy through my legs. Somehow, my speed increased, and the footsteps seemed just a shade farther behind.
I couldn’t let them catch me again. I just couldn’t. There’d be no second escape, of that I was sure.
I turned left onto California Street. More people, more parked cars, trees, and lots of big tall buildings. And nowhere to hide that wouldn’t endanger others, leaving me with little option but to keep going. I ran across the street, heard the screech of brakes from behind, and jumped sideways. The hood of a green car slid past my side, missing me by inches. It came to a halt between me and my pursuer, but instead of the irate driver flinging abuse, he reached backward and flung the door open. A familiar voice said, “Get in.”
I didn’t hesitate, just dived into the backseat and slammed the door shut. With a squeal of rubber, Damon took off. My pursuer quickly became a speck lost to the distance, then disappeared altogether as we sped down another street.
I collapsed back into the seat and let out a relieved breath. “Thank you,” I said, wiping the sweat from my forehead with a shaking hand.
“What the hell were you doing at the Ritz?” he said, voice not in the least bit friendly.
“Looking for you.”
“And it didn’t occur to you that our kidnappers might well be doing the same thing?”
“Not until I saw that guy waiting outside, no.”
He shook his head, his dark gaze meeting mine briefly at the edge of the rearview mirror. “Stupid.”
Heat burned into my cheeks and sparks flickered briefly across my fingertips. I clenched my hand and tried to calm the annoyance. “I realize that now. I don’t need your admonishment on top of it.”
He grunted slightly, swung the car onto another street, then said, “What did you want to see me about?”
“I saw on the news that you’d been arrested—”
“Not arrested,” he corrected, and I swear there was humor in his voice, even though there was little emotion to be tasted on the air. “Just answering a few questions.”
“We both know that’s only one step from being arrested.” I paused. “Did you set that blaze?”
He contemplated me through the rearview mirror for a moment. “What do you think?”
“I think you’re crazy enough to set a bar alight.” I studied his back and wondered if anyone could ever accurately tell what this man was thinking. I certainly couldn’t. Not at the moment, anyway. “But I don’t think you actually did.”
A smile tugged at his lips. “Nice to know my fellow prisoner has a little faith in me.”
“I don’t have faith in anyone but my brother and Rainey.” And she was dead. I looked briefly out the window, wondering where we were going and realizing I didn’t really care, then added, “It’s a simple matter of facts. You were locked up for thirteen days without sunlight. Even with the heat you stole, I doubt you’d have been able to maintain enough fire to set that building alight.”
“There are other ways to light a fire, you know. Even dragons can use them.”
“Yeah, but you seem the type to want to do your own dirty work, right down to the flame that kills.”
His gaze met mine again, the dark depths of his eyes contemplative. “You seem to have formed a very quick opinion of someone you don’t really know.”
My smile held a bitter edge. “You have to where I come from. It can be the difference between gaining new scars or not.”
One dark eyebrow winged upward. “Surely a pretty woman like you wouldn’t have that many scars.”
I snorted softly. Death obviously needed glasses. I might be many things, but pretty wasn’t one of them. Not that I considered myself ugly. Just plain. Very plain. A brown dragon who couldn’t shift shape in a world filled with beasts who could shimmer and fly. “I’ve more scars than I have fingers.”
He frowned. “I saw the one on your forehead. What happened there?”
I reached up and touched the rapidly fading scar. “That one was courtesy of a recent run-in with a truck. The others were courtesy of my clique.”
“What in the hell goes on in your clique?”