Just for a moment, the past seemed to echo in the blue of his eyes. Him and me and the heat that had once burned unquenched between us. A heat that could still burn between us if the dying embers were given the slightest chance of rebirth. Then the echoes were gone, and all that was left was the anger of our final words. Words I doubted we could ever get past.
I pulled my gaze from his and drank some tea. “Did you find anything of interest in Baltimore’s notes?”
“Not as yet.”
“What about Wilson?”
“What about him?”
I frowned at him. “Well, why was he taken out by the red cloaks?”
“We don’t know.”
“And wouldn’t tell me even if you did?”
He half smiled. Or maybe that should be quarter smiled, because it was little more than a ghost, barely there and yet breathtaking nonetheless.
“Jackson Miller is a private investigator who’s been hired to investigate Wilson’s murder. I’m not about to give him—via you—that sort of information.” He paused, and that ghost disappeared. “You should keep away from him, Emberly. This case is far more dangerous than you know, and Miller is renowned for not knowing when to retreat.”
“Which sounds a whole lot like someone I once knew.” And it was what had made him such a good cop. But was it also responsible for the darkness I sensed in him today? Had he finally run into a situation that went way beyond his control? A situation far worse than having to shoot his own brother?
“Which is why I’m giving you a warning, Red. I know just how badly things can go.” He half reached out, as if to caress my cheek; then his fingers clenched and he abruptly stood up. “Please be sensible. Don’t stick your nose into the investigation, and don’t skip out on your tail again.”
I leaned back in my chair and met his gaze for several heartbeats. “Fine,” I said eventually. “I’ll be sensible.”
Relief sparked in his blue eyes, but there was also a touch of disbelief—understandable, I guess, given he saw me as nothing more than a lying adulteress. “One of us will be in contact if we need anything else from you.”
“What if I need to contact you for some reason?”
He hesitated, then reluctantly reached into his pocket and drew out a card. On it was a cell number. Nothing else, not even his name.
“Use that. It’s a central number, unconnected to me or the team, but any message you leave will be shunted to me as a matter of priority.”
Which was better than nothing, I supposed. I accepted the card and shoved it into my purse. “Thanks.”
He nodded and left. No good-bye, no nothing. He just turned around and walked away. Like it was easy.
I rubbed my eyes wearily and wondered when the hell this stupid, irrational pining would stop. He might be the love of this life span, but that just meant he was the one destined to burn my heart to ashes. The sooner I accepted it and got over him, the better.
Which is always easier to say than do, my inner voice whispered.
I sighed, flicked out some cash for our drinks, then made my way home. Rory was getting ready for his evening shift at the fire station.
“Hey,” he said, a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eyes. His night with Rosie had obviously gone well. “What’s happening?”
“It seems the gods are still pissed off with me.” I dropped down onto the sofa and gave him a brief update on everything that had happened over the course of the day.
“Christ,” he said, handing me a cup of tea. “You’ve well and truly jumped out of your staid and boring existence, haven’t you?”
“Yeah,” I muttered, and lightly blew on the tea to cool it.
He sat down on the coffee table, his arms crossed on his knees. “I’m gathering you’re intending to ignore Sam’s warning and meet with Jackson tonight?”
And therein lay the difference between Sam and Rory—Rory knew immediately what I’d do. Sam, even after all that had happened between us, wanted to believe I’d keep my word. But then, what chance had Sam ever had to really understand me? I’d been too fearful of his reaction, too desperate to enjoy my time with him before fate stepped in to once again destroy everything, to tell him what I was. And by the time I’d tried, it was altogether too late.
“Sam’s got people watching me, so I’m planning to sneak off at sunset. Is the roof code still the same?”
Rory nodded. He was more attached to his firebird form than I was and tended to risk evening flights at least a couple of times a week—some of them from the rooftop and some out in the country. “Just be careful. And if you and Jackson need some extra muscle, you know where to find me.”
“Thanks.”
He smiled, leaned forward, and kissed my forehead. “Have fun. And don’t be surprised if Sam discovers your absence sooner rather than later. Whatever I might think of him otherwise, he’s a very good cop.”
“I know.” I shrugged. “But I just can’t sit around and do nothing.”
“Well, you could. But you’ve always liked a challenge, and that’s what this has turned into.” He paused, then added, a wry edge in his voice, “And with this case, there’s both a mystery and a man.”
“I’m not interested in Sam—”
“Did I specify which man I was talking about?” he interrupted mildly.
“No.” I tore my gaze away from the amusement in his. Damn him to hell for knowing me too well.
“As I said, just be careful. I’d hate to see him hurt you again.”
“He won’t.” It was said with determination. After all, a phoenix’s heart was supposed to break only once each lifetime, and I’d already had my turn.
“Good.” He squeezed my knee, then rose and continued getting ready for work.
By the time I’d finished my drink, he’d left. I stripped off my clothes and had a shower, but as I was heading into my bedroom, my phone beeped. I walked into the living room and dug it out of my purse, noting in the process the glint in the window opposite. The old guy was watching again.
I shook my head at his persistence and looked at the text. It was from Jackson, and all it said was Rubbish.
Make of that what you will, Sam, I thought with a smile. I tucked the phone back into its pocket inside the purse, then went back into my bedroom, selecting a simple A-line dress for now and a more figure-hugging silk for later in the evening.
Once my shoes had gone into the backpack, I slung it over my shoulder and headed out. But I went up the fire escape to the roof, not down in the elevator to the lobby.
The evening air had grown cool, and the setting sun was beginning to render the sky with vivid splashes of color. I walked across to the cooling towers and waited for the splashes to grow, the breeze in my hair and excitement in my veins. I might not take firebird form very often, but it always made my blood sing when I did.
As the sunset began to reach its zenith, I unzipped the back of my dress so that the pack touched skin. It wouldn’t be enveloped in the magic that allowed me to shift from one form to another if it wasn’t. Then I closed my eyes and called forth the firebird.
She came in a rush that was fierce and frightening, a storm of energy that swept me from flesh to fire and then bird in quick succession, leaving me breathless and more than a little dizzy.
Damn, I obviously need to do this more often.
It was a thought that quickly disappeared as I raised glowing red-gold wings and leapt for the sunset-painted skies. It was a glorious sensation, and the urge to simply fly and enjoy not only the freedom but the power of the evening was a hard one to resist.
But Sam was down there somewhere and, as Rory had noted, he wasn’t stupid. He knew I was a phoenix, and it wouldn’t take him long to connect the appearance of a firebird to me.