Keri Arthur - Fireborn

I flipped down the visor and looked behind us via the vanity mirror.

And what I saw was a red cloak.

Oh, fuck.

“Do you know who it is?” His sideways glance suggested he was very aware of the tension running through me.

Sam’s warning swirled through my thoughts. How the hell was I going to explain this without giving too much away? “I ran across a couple of our follower’s companions a few nights ago. Let’s just say they’re nasty pieces of work.”

“I take it from that your meeting with said companions went rather badly—for them.”

“Yes. I rather spoiled a party they had planned, and they didn’t take it well.” I studied the red cloak in the mirror for a moment. “I’m not sure why they’d be following me now, though.”

Although the fact that they were meant that while they might be infected by a vampirelike virus, they didn’t suffer the same restrictions when it came to sunlight. So why did UV lights affect them?

“What the hell is he?” Jackson asked. “Even in the rearview mirror he doesn’t really look human, and he sure as hell can’t be a vampire.”

I hesitated. “I’m not sure what they’re officially called, but I tend to call them red cloaks—”

“ That’s a red cloak? He looks nothing like the description I got.”

Something in the pit of my stomach twisted. I closed my eyes for a moment, fighting the twin surges of disappointment and anger. Goddamn it, I didn’t want Sam to be right. Didn’t want to believe meeting Jackson was anything more than a coincidence.

“How do you know about the red cloaks?”

I said it softly, but there was an edge in my voice and he grimaced.

“Look, I haven’t exactly been truthful—”

Anger won the battle over disappointment. “No kidding —”

“Emberly, just listen ,” he snapped, then took a deep breath, visibly getting himself under control. “I am Jackson Miller, but I’m a private investigator, not an engineer. Baltimore was someone of interest to my client.”

Which was why he’d been so interested in me . It was as much the need for information as attraction. Lady luck, it seemed, really had decided to abandon me this life span—at least when it came to men.

“After running into you that first time,” he continued, “I did some checking and discovered you worked for Baltimore.”

“And what better way is there to keep an eye on him than to seduce his assistant?” I couldn’t help the edge of bitterness in my voice.

“Yes.” He scraped a hand across his chin. It sounded like he was rubbing sandpaper. “And no. That was my initial intention when I arranged our second meeting, but I discovered Baltimore was dead shortly after that. Theoretically, your usefulness as an information source was over at that point.” His gaze briefly met mine. Those emerald depths showed little evidence of lying. “I didn’t have to meet you at the bar. I wanted to.”

I stared at him for several moments, then pulled my gaze away. I wasn’t ready to forgive him just yet, and if I kept staring into his eyes, I would. “Prove that you’re an investigator and you’re just not spinning another line.”

“My wallet is in my pants pocket.” He glanced at me, eyes suddenly twinkling with mischief. “Of course, that means you’ll have to reach in and get it. I dare not risk taking my hand off the wheel.”

I snorted softly, then reached across the car and dug a hand into his pocket. Felt the heat of his skin through the thin layer of cotton, and again the hunger rose within me. Later, later, I whispered internally. Maybe . I grabbed the wallet, tugged it free, then opened it up. His driver’s license was in a little window on one side and his private investigator’s license on the other. He was who he said he was. I closed it and shoved it back into his pocket.

“Happy?” he asked.

“Satisfied that you’re not actually lying about who you are anymore, yes. Happy, not so much.” I paused, then asked, “Why is your client interested in my boss? And how do you know about the red cloaks?”

He hesitated. “Client confidentiality—”

“Be damned,” I cut in. “In the last few days, I’ve been shot at, chased, my boss has been murdered, and, for a climax, I’ve been picked up by a Fae who’s decided seduction is the fastest method to information. If someone doesn’t start being honest with me, I’m going to get violent .”

He grinned suddenly. “You’re a bit of a firecracker, aren’t you?”

“You have no idea,” I muttered, and crossed my arms. “And to repeat my question, how much do you know about the red cloaks?”

“Not a lot more than the brief description of them I got from several people who’d witnessed them murder someone.”

“And who was that someone?”

He glanced in the rearview mirror again, then said, “How about we take out our tail, then have an information exchange?”

“There’s one fatal flaw in that suggestion.” Sam might have warned me against talking about these things, but I couldn’t not talk about them, either. Not when Jackson was planning to attack one of them. “Those things are infected with a deadly virus that may affect nonhumans as much as it does humans. You can’t let them scratch or bite you.”

“Oh,” he said. “Lovely.”

He drove on without saying anything for a while, and I realized we were out of the city and on the Tullamarine Freeway, heading toward the Calder.

“Okay,” he said eventually. “We’ll let him follow us until we get to the exit. Once we hit the forest, we’ll immobilize the bastard, then question him.”

“Um, maybe you didn’t hear me, but those things are deadly—”

“I heard.” His gaze, when it met mine, was filled with a very inhuman hunger and excitement. Fae might be sensualists, but they obviously weren’t averse to the excitement that came with danger—and that it could be deadly only made the chase all that much sweeter, it seemed.

I shook my head. “You’re crazy .” And so was I for even considering going along with his scheme.

“That’s been said before,” he agreed. “I am, however, still alive.”

Silence fell. We continued up the Calder Freeway for a while, then swung left onto Lawson Road and up into the forest.

“Can you use a gun?” he asked, as he suddenly turned onto a dirt side road.

“I can, though I prefer not to. Why?”

“It’s interesting that you appear neither shocked nor horrified by the thought I might be carrying weapons in the truck.”

“Probably because my capacity to be shocked by anything has been erased by recent events. What are you planning?”

“Are you good enough to take out the tire of a car speeding past?”

“I think so.” I’d certainly done it a few times in my past life as a cop, but that had been a while ago now, and not only were my skills rusty, but the guns were very different.

“God, where have you been all my life, woman?”

“I’ve been avoiding men like you,” I said dryly. “Where’s the gun?”

“Locked box under the backseat. Key code 3754.”

I undid my seat belt and twisted around. Once I found the locked box, I typed in the code. A drawer popped out, revealing several guns cradled in foam. I chose the Glock semiautomatic simply because I’d used earlier versions. After checking that the internal locking system was engaged, I shoved in a single-stack, ten-round magazine.

“There’s a blind corner just up ahead,” he said. “I’ll let you out just after it. Hide in the trees and shoot out the rear tires. I’ll take care of the rest.”