Burn For Me (Phoenix Fire #1)(35)

Hell. Wyatt was promising them Cain.

“The soldier won’t need blood like a vampire. He won’t be weak in sunlight. He’ll be strong all the time. He’ll be the perfect weapon of death.”

Was that truly what Cain was? Eve swallowed. “Richard Wyatt is feeding the government a line of bullshit. Nothing—no one—like that exists.”

Gloria straightened, but still didn’t glance her way. “Wyatt knows about me.”

Eve knew her secret, too.

Not human.

“If I don’t play ball with him, I could wind up in a lab.” Fear—an emotion Eve had never heard in Gloria’s voice—hummed beneath the words.

Eve could only stare at the other woman. Gloria had been in more wars that Eve could count. She’d faced terrorists. Murderers. Never flinched. Until now. “So you sold me out because you were afraid?” Fear could make anyone desperate. She got that.

Gloria gave a short, sad shake of her head. “I ran the article because I was scared to death. I came here to warn you because you’re my friend.”

Gloria had been her friend.

But Gloria turned away from her. “Don’t try to talk to me again. Just … get out of here and don’t look back.”

“I don’t run, Gloria.”

Gloria glanced back at her too briefly. “Then you’ll die, Eve.”

Her friend strode into the chocolate shop. The bell that hung over the door gave a happy little jingle.

In the next instant, the shop exploded.

The force of the blast threw Eve back and she screamed, then lost her breath as she slammed into the ground.

“Eve!” Cain was there, turning her over and staring down at her with a face gone white.

She was bleeding. Her hands and her legs were cut and bleeding and she hurt everywhere … and … Gloria was dead.

Eve’s eyes were on the burning building. Or what was left of it.

Cain lifted her into his arms. Sirens were screaming from someplace and a crowd was gathering on the street.

“I’m a doctor,” a Good Samaritan in a blue shirt and running shorts said. “Let me look at her, I can help—”

“Step the f*ck back,” Cain snarled at him and held her carefully.

The Good Samaritan stepped the f*ck back.

The pain began to slip away. Eve stared at the fire. Cain had tried to warn her.

He’d warned her.

Brakes squealed near them. She caught the stench of burning rubber.

Gloria died because of me. Eve realized she was crying.

There’d better be a special place in hell waiting for Wyatt.

“Get in!”

Wait. That voice was familiar. That snarl—it was Trace’s voice.

She turned her head and saw that he’d been the one squealing to a stop. He was in a black SUV, his hands tightly gripping the wheel.

“Get. In!”

Cain put her in the back of the vehicle. Climbed in beside her. Her blood was on his hands.

Only fair. Gloria’s was on hers.

The SUV roared away, racing right past a line of fire trucks heading for the burning remains of the chocolate shop.

Those fire trucks sure had gotten to the scene fast. Too fast.

I wasn’t the only one who knew Gloria’s routine. The bomb had been planted, the authorities tipped off.

And Gloria had died.

“You were right,” Eve spoke through numb lips. “I should have stayed away.” Cain had warned her, but she hadn’t listened. She’d been so sure that she could approach Gloria quietly, that she could get her story out there.

Cain turned over her hands. Eve’s palms were shredded. She’d thrown up her hands to cover her face when she went flying into the street, and when she’d hit, her palms had slammed into the asphalt.

“The paper said … the story said I torched that warehouse, the club with the people inside …” She licked her lips. Tasted the fire. “People will say I did the same here. That I killed her.”

You did. A dark voice whispered in her mind. It was the voice of her own guilt. Gloria shouldn’t have died for her.

Trace cursed from the front seat and sent the SUV careening around a curve.

“Slow down,” Cain snapped, but his fingers softly stroked Eve’s hands. “You want to blend in now, not stick out.”

But Eve shook her head, knowing blending in wasn’t an option. Eyes had been watching them. Cameras had probably been stationed on that shop, recording their every move. “They’ll have seen the SUV. Gotten the plates …”

“On it,” Trace muttered and pulled them into the winding entrance of a parking garage. “We’re ditching this ride and getting the hell out of here.”

“He’s setting me up,” she whispered, her heart like lead in her chest. “Wyatt is making me look like a criminal so no one will believe anything I say.”

Cain just stared at her. A muscle jerked in his jaw. His hand lifted and brushed over her cheek. More blood smeared his fingers. She hadn’t even realized that her cheek was bleeding.

“Attack first,” Trace said from the front. The SUV braked to a jarring stop. “Give your enemy no time to run or rest. Fucking smart strategy.”

No one had ever said Doctor Richard Wyatt wasn’t smart.