Burn For Me (Phoenix Fire #1)(56)

The floor creaked a few feet away from him. Cain whirled to face the threat—and a baseball bat slammed into his head.





CHAPTER TWELVE


When the bat came swinging at him again, Cain was ready. He caught the bat in his left hand. “Don’t f*cking think so,” he said as he snatched the bat out of his attacker’s grip, ready to take a swing of his own.

“No!” Eve grabbed the bat. She tried—and failed—to pull it from his grip. “Don’t hurt her. We need her.”

He got a good look at his attacker. All five feet nothing of her. Deceptively delicate, the woman stood mostly in the shadows of the shop. Her eyes were dark and slanted, her skin a light mocha. Her hair was cut short, almost brutally so, as if she’d wanted to look tough.

The cut just made her look more … delicate.

“Who the hell is he, Eve?” the slugger asked, jutting up her pointed chin. “And why’d you trash my door?”

“Because you weren’t answering my knock,” Eve fired back even as she kept pulling on the baseball bat. “I need to talk to you, Dru. I had to come inside.”

This is Dru? Cain let Eve take the bat from him.

She tossed it into a corner and faced off against Dru.

Dru’s hot glare swept over Eve. “Do you know how many cops are looking for you right now? You need to be getting your ass out of Dodge.”

Eve shook her head. “No, what I need to be doing is clearing my name, and you’re going to help me.”

But Dru was backing up—very, very fast. “No, I’m not.”

Cain frowned, studying her. She was just a few feet from him, but he couldn’t smell her. Couldn’t hear her heartbeat. If the floor beneath her hadn’t creaked when she’d moved, this Dru could have bashed his head in without any warning.

“Stop looking at me like that,” she snapped at him as she rolled her shoulders. “I’m not the freak in the room.”

“Why can’t I smell you?” He inhaled deeply, but still got nothing.

“’Cause I don’t stink?” she threw right back at him and edged closer to the back wall.

He suspected she was looking for a new weapon. Interesting. His head cocked to the side as he studied her. “I don’t hear your heart beating.” Even vampires had beating hearts, despite the myths about them being the walking dead.

Dru waved that away. “Trust me, it’s beating. So fast my chest hurts.” She jumped behind the counter and came back up with a handgun. “Eve, get your ass out of my shop.”

The sight of the gun had Eve tensing, but she said, “I will, but I want information first.”

Dru raised her gun. “Um, do you want a bullet in your head?”

It was Cain’s turn to step forward. He positioned himself between Eve and the barrel of the gun. “Fire if you want to,” he invited softly, “but then you should probably run.”

Her nostrils flared as if she were trying to get his scent. “You smell”—Dru whispered—“like blood and fire.”

He stared back at her. “And you smell like a woman who’s been using witchcraft.” A woman with no scent. The witches could do that. They could make a brew to cloak scents.

She laughed then. A deep, rumbling laugh that he hadn’t expected from such a small package. “I don’t mess with any crazy witches”—she leaned forward—“but I do know how to mix some herbs for a little protection.”

Protection that could mask her smell? Yes, he’d heard of that, but … “Why doesn’t your heart beat?” When he focused just on her, he should be able to hear it.

He couldn’t.

The laughter faded from her face. “Maybe I lied before. Maybe I just don’t have a heart.”

Eve sighed from behind him. “And maybe you’re just bullshitting.” She shoved Cain aside. “She wears a special vest under her clothes, okay? One that mutes the sound so that no one else can hear it.”

Dru gave a little shrug. “An unfortunate encounter with a vampire a few years ago. Even though he’s rotting in the ground, it’s made me a bit … obsessive … about a few things.”

“Yeah,” Eve muttered, “but maybe instead of worrying so much about your scent and heartbeat, you should look into investing in a new door and store alarm.” She cleared her throat and slapped her hand on the counter. “But right now, I need you to help me.”

“And I should because … ?”

“Because it was my story that put your freak of a stepfather on death row.” Eve bared her teeth. “You’re welcome. Now pay me back, and I’ll get my butt out of your shop.”

Dru’s hand tightened around the gun, but she slowly lowered the weapon to the countertop. “What do you want?”

Eve backed up and hit the lights. When the illumination flooded on, Cain saw the sketches and photographs that lined the wall behind Dru’s head.

“No one inks wolves quite like you.” Eve’s voice was flat.

Cain frowned and searched the pictures. He saw half a dozen wolves scattered in the images. Some were hunting. Howling. Running.

“Even when they’re supposed to look like monsters, the eyes give them away. Your eyes are always different.”