Burn For Me (Phoenix Fire #1)(55)

They’d been waiting twenty minutes already. There was no sign of the wolf.

Cain cranked the engine.

Her hand flew out, and her fingers wrapped around his. “We aren’t leaving,” she told him, her voice almost a growl.

He turned his head toward her. Met that bright blue stare. “Yeah, we are.” He was definite on this. The longer they stayed there, the more danger they could face.

She had to see the writing on the wall. She had to. Trace wasn’t meeting them because the wolf couldn’t meet them.

Eve hadn’t been the only one taken last night, but she had been the only one rescued.

Two vamp bars. Two traps. One missing wolf.

Cain frowned. He should have known that Wyatt would have a backup plan in place.

They’d picked the old park as a meeting point because it was isolated. Private. But it looked like the meeting wasn’t going to happen.

Cain eased the vehicle—another stolen ride—away from the curb.

“Take me to the bar,” Eve whispered.

From the corner of his eye, Cain saw her hands clench in her lap. He knew which bar she meant.

Thirty minutes later, they were in front of Bite—the vamp bar that Trace had visited the night before.

There wasn’t much left of the place. Charred bricks. Ash. The shell of a wall in the back. Humans—probably arson investigators—were combing through the wreckage and yellow lines of tape marked off the area, keeping the gawkers back.

Hell.

“Wyatt has him,” Eve said. There was no emotion in her voice.

Cain kept driving past the bar. Nice and slow. Their windows were tinted so no one would get a good look at him and Eve, and he sure wasn’t doing anything to attract attention to them, not yet.

He also didn’t respond to Eve’s comment. Wyatt could have the wolf shifter— Or Trace could be dead. If the wolf had fought back, death was a strong possibility. Cain knew other paranormals who hadn’t been taken alive. Wyatt just burned their bodies and moved on to his next target.

“You said that you knew how to find Wyatt,” Cain said instead, trying to keep her focused and away from the wall of worry he could almost feel growing around her. As soon as he learned what she knew, he would be dropping Eve off with a supernatural who owed him more than a few favors. The guy would keep her safe—until Cain made sure Wyatt wasn’t coming after any of them ever again.

“He wasn’t supposed to take Trace.”

A red light flashed. He slowed the car. Glanced in the rearview mirror. No sign of a tail. Yet. “He did.” Maybe the words were too cold, but Cain didn’t know any other way to be.

He heard the sharp rasp of her breath, then she said, “Turn right.”

He did.

“Left.” The word was clipped. Eve was worried about her shifter, but she was holding herself together. The woman was strong. Far stronger than Cain had initially realized. “Head straight for two miles,” she told him, “then turn at the federal building.”

He followed her instructions without question, wondering what Eve had planned next.

She had him stop in front of a small tattoo shop called Death Ink. The lights were off, and the place looked abandoned.

“Last night, while I was fighting that guard who locked me in that room to burn”—she exhaled on a heavy breath—“I saw a tat on his arm.”

“Wyatt has a shitload of military guys working for him.” Or ex-military *s who’d been kicked out because they were psychotic. “Most of ’em are probably sporting ink.”

“Not like this. Not like this.” She shoved open the door and headed for the small shop.

Death Ink was located right in the middle of a bar strip. Since it was early afternoon, those bars were shut down tight. Cain’s gaze scanned the street. He didn’t see another person anywhere around. He eased from the car. Watched the nice sway of Eve’s ass as she headed for Death Ink. Her ass truly was fine.

It was such a pity the woman could be so lethal.

She slammed her hand on the glass door. “Dru, open the hell up!”

There was no sound from inside. No rustle of movement. No footsteps.

Cain sauntered toward her. She was a wanted woman, her face splashed on the news. Maybe she shouldn’t be screaming so loudly—deserted street or not. “I don’t think anyone’s home,” he murmured.

“Yeah, she is. She’s always here during the day. Dru’s just trying to ignore me.” Eve obviously wasn’t in the mood to be ignored. She lifted her foot and kicked at the door. Glass broke in a long, thin crack. She swore and kicked again. Harder. Again.

It was going to take forever her way.

Cain cleared his throat. She kept kicking. He picked her up, scooted her back, then rammed his fist through the glass. One nice, clean punch. The glass rained down on the ground around them.

“Supernatural show-off,” Eve said, but there was an edge of appreciation in her words.

Cain caught himself smiling. It wasn’t the time or the place. But Eve … kept sliding under his guard. Dangerous.

He reached inside and jerked the lock, opening the door. When he stepped inside the shop, the scent of incense and oils burned his nose. But he still didn’t hear anyone. Didn’t see anyone, either. “Told you,” he said as he turned back to glance at her. “No one’s—”