Playing With Fire (tales of an extra ordinary girl)

by Gena Showalter

  Concentrate! What else did I loathe? I know! I know! I hated being chased by bad guys. I hated the fact that people wanted to kill me. I hated that I’d been given an experimental secret formula without my consent. Hated, hated, hated that I was now unemployed, broke, and that my dad’s rent would soon be due.

  My breathing became choppy as my anger intensified. My fists clenched tightly at my sides. I hated that Rome was so mouthwateringly sexy. Hated that he tasted so good. Hated that I already craved another sampling of him. And what the hell had he meant, blurting out that he had a daughter? A daughter, for Christ’s sake. He hadn’t been lying about that. His eyes had been filled with stark, raw emotion. Desperate need and fear. Did that mean Rome also had a wife?

  Oh, the bastard! He did. He had a wifey-poo at home. And he’d kissed me as if he couldn’t live another moment without cleaning my tonsils. He’d touched my face and made me-

  A stream of fire shot from my eyes and slammed into the front door. The force of it knocked me backward. As I fell, fire continued to spew from me and flames erupted everywhere I looked, licking a deadly, orange-gold path from one corner to another. Gasping, I squeezed my eyes tightly closed, cutting off the fire, blanking my mind.

  But no sooner did I close my eyes than I felt my fingers heat. Flames began to fly from them. Dear Lord. I’d opened a fiery floodgate that didn’t want to close. I felt its singe, its sizzle. The scents of ash and burning carpet, wood and plaster filled my nose.

  My heart drummed erratically. Calm down, Belle Jamison. Right now! Please calm down. If I didn’t, I would burn the entire building to the ground. People might die. Because of me. Me. Deep breath in, deep breath out. The heat continued to wrap around me, and my body responded in kind, enjoying it and producing more.

  “I can control the fire,” I said, holding out my hands and trying to draw the inferno back into myself. Let this work, let this work, let this work. “I can control the fire. I have power over the elements. They must obey me.”

  I opened my eyes, catching a glimpse of utter chaos before another round of flames burst free. I squeezed my eyelids shut again as panic washed through me. Dear God, what should I do? How did I stop this? Think good, happy thoughts. Nothing that miffed me even slightly.

  Okay. What made me happy? Sherridan had a date with the twins. My dad was alive. Fifty-percent-off sales. Chocolate chip cookies-they increased my waistline, but I didn’t want to go there. The thought of never having to serve coffee to snobs made me ecstatic.

  With each new thought, my anger and panic receded and I felt my hands cool. Slowly I cracked open my eyes. A deep exhale became a heavy sigh of relief. An inferno might rage around me, but at least no more flames leapt from my eyes or hands.

  I couldn’t let the neighbors be hurt by this, though. I raced to the kitchen and was relieved to see the extinguisher Rome had used was next to the stove. Why hadn’t I kept it near me? Stupid. As I sprinted back to the door, I sprayed everything in my path. White mist soon thickened the air, and the flames died to a gentle sizzle.

  I dropped the now-empty canister, my arms falling shakily to my sides as I looked around, assessing the damage. The couch, TV, coffee table and my bag were ruined. The shag carpet was ruined, too, but that was a cause for celebration.

  The front door had burned completely away-except for the freaking lock, which clung to the only beam left standing-leaving a gaping hole that led straight into the hallway. Thick smoke billowed and wafted out. An alarm erupted in the hall, screeching with enough volume to make me cringe.

  Within seconds, the neighbors were pouring from their apartments. If one of these people knew Rome, they might call him and tell him what I’d done. He could be on his way back right now. And let’s not even discuss the fact that I’d just announced my presence to the bad guys who might not have known where I was.

  “What did you do?” an elderly woman demanded, crossing her arms over her ample chest. She wore a cherry-red robe and had blue rollers in her hair. “Does Raymond know you’re in his apartment?”

  Raymond? Who the hell was Raymond? Maybe the man Rome had stolen the apartment from-if so, sorry, Raymond!-or maybe it was a fake name Rome liked to use. Either way, I wasn’t sticking around to find out.

  “Turn off that goddamn alarm,” someone else shouted.

  “Did someone call the super? He’s going to be POed.”

  “No way you’ll get your deposit back now.”

  At least the apartment was so old it didn’t have a built-in sprinkler system. Every one of us would have been drenched. “Tell the super I’m sorry,” I said, and shoved past the crowd of onlookers.

  “Hey, you can’t leave,” the woman in rollers screeched, momentarily drowning the sound of the alarm. “You almost burned us all. Get back here.”

  I found the door to the stairwell and slipped inside. Adrenaline poured through me, filling me as if I were drinking it. Urging me onward. The sound of voices and the wail of the alarm faded as I pounded down the steps to the ground floor. Strands of hair slapped at my face, momentarily blinding me. I kept moving and finally made it outside. Morning sunlight streamed from the bright Georgia sky, hot and oppressive. Humidity instantly beaded on my skin; gnats buzzed past me.

  People roamed the sidewalks, unaware and uncaring of my turmoil. Cars meandered along the streets. Exhaust wafted to my nose, tickling my throat, and I coughed. The cough continued as I stood in place, trying to figure out which way to go.

  I guess I should have thought this through a little more. I didn’t know where I was, where I should go, and had no real plan. I didn’t recognize the area, only knew it seemed so open. Glancing left and right, I willed myself to calm. I’d be okay. I’d be okay. I’d be okay. No one looked suspicious.

  Coughing, I turned right and walked. Just walked, acting as breezy as I could. Hopefully I could lose myself in the crowds until I oriented myself and-Shit! Rome raced around the far corner of a building, his eyes narrowed on me as if he’d expected to see me. His features blazed with fury.

  Despite the heat, my blood chilled. And chilled. And chilled as fear bombarded me. I spun and leapt into a desperate run. Buildings whizzed by me, glazing with ice as I passed. People sidled out of my way, and those that didn’t froze in place. Literally. I wished I could stop it, but couldn’t make the panic go away.

  I hadn’t come this far to be captured by Rome. Again. If, in the near future, I decided to work with him and trust him, it would be on my terms. On my time. I would not be forced. I would not be coerced or manipulated.

  Brave thoughts for a girl about to be caught.

  The ground beneath my feet developed an icy film, and I began to slip and slide, throwing wild glances behind me. Rome, too, was precarious on the ice, yet he appeared to be closer every time I looked. I blamed my uncontrollable coughing, which slowed me down considerably. What was wrong with me? I’d never reacted this way to car fumes before.

  Get yourself under control. Don’t think. Don’t feel. Not knowing what else to do as he barreled at me full speed, I stepped into the street. I got my heart rate under control just as a car honked and swerved into the center lane of traffic. Another car, a bright red Viper, screeched to a halt right in front of me.

  “Don’t do it,” Rome shouted.

  I raced to the passenger side of the vehicle. Thankfully, it didn’t freeze. My emotions were leveling out. Music blared from the speakers, but the driver turned it off when I ripped open the door. He wore an expression of utter surprise and white-hot anger. Uncaring, I bent to throw myself inside. In the next flash, a small dart flew past me and embedded itself in the car. Shocked, puzzled, I whipped my head to the side. A man-none other than the very beautiful man who’d questioned me at the café-stood several feet away, holding a gun. And that gun was aimed directly at me.

  Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod. I dived the rest of the way inside the car, then quickly shut and locked the door. Don’t think. Don’t feel. Several more darts hit the window
, cracking the glass. I nearly jumped out of my skin. At least my coughing stopped.

  The car’s driver shouted several curses and placed the vehicle in Park. I think he meant to physically kick me out. He was a young man (probably a teenager), with blue hair and an eyebrow full of rings.

  “Gas it!” I commanded shakily.

  He snarled over at me. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Get the fuck out of my car.” Another dart hit the window, cracking the glass a little more. “And who the hell is shooting at my window?”

  “Drive. Please drive.”

  “Get. The fuck. Out! You’re covered in ashes and it’s ruining my leather. I’m calling the cops.” He grabbed a cell phone from the dashboard. “My window looks like a goddamn spiderweb.”

  I dared a peek out of said window and could see (from multiple reflections) that Pretty Boy-Vincent, I recalled-was almost upon us. Rome, too, his expression dark with rage. Then Pretty Boy began shooting darts at Rome, but Rome easily ducked them. All the while, both continued toward me.

  “She belongs to me,” I heard Pretty Boy say. “The formula inside her belongs to me.”

  “Fuck you,” Rome snarled in response.

  Pretty Boy laughed. “If you want me gone, you’ll have to give me the girl or kill me. But we both know you won’t do the latter. You can’t. Pussy. Or maybe you’d like to, at last, join me at OASS. Wouldn’t it be nice to finally be on the winning team?”

  The driver had been nudging my arm during the entire conversation, trying to get me out of his car, but I maintained a death grip on his dash. All too soon, Pretty Boy tired of Rome and returned his focus to me. He raised his dart gun.

  “Drive now,” I said to the Viper’s driver, more desperate than before, “and I’ll make sure you have sex tonight.”

  The car jerked into gear and we peeled out.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  HERE’S HOW THE NEXT excruciating hour broke down:

  After we’d driven a sufficient distance from Rome (leaving him scowling in the street) and Pretty Boy (leaving him to hopefully choke on his dart gun), I asked my punked-out driver to take me to a cheap motel-a suggestion he loved.

  I mean, the kid was all smiles. And why wouldn’t he be? I’d offered to sex him up hard core. Someone should lock me up in a padded room and burn the key. But I had to go to a random location, as planned, or risk being found, and a cheap motel was the best my stressed-out brain could think up. How I would have loved to go to my dad’s, instead, to throw myself in his arms and let him sing me to sleep like he’d done for me as a child. But I didn’t want to involve him.

  Sunlight poured through the car windows, but the air inside was ice-cold. Not my fault. The kid-what the hell was his name?-had the AC cranked up, blasting it from the vents. I couldn’t get warm. My nipples were hard enough to cut glass.

  As the scenery whizzed past, I saw a few scattered flower patches and multiple gas stations before the entire landscape was consumed by pine trees. Constantly I cataloged the traffic around and behind us. No one careened toward us or followed-that I could see. To be honest, the only people who seemed to care about us were the angry drivers who didn’t appreciate our weaving in and out of lanes.

  “Eyes straight ahead,” I said when I noticed the kid was staring at my chest.

  His cheeks colored. “My little pony needs the road to open up so she can run.” He patted the dashboard.

  Run. Yes. Forever? How long would I be hunted?

  He glanced at me-at my face, this time. “Hey, you all right? You’re putting out some seriously funky vibes.”

  “I’m great.” Considering I’m marked for death. “What’s your name?”

  “Tanner, but my friends call me Crazy Bones.”

  “Uh, that’s an… interesting nickname.”

  “I know. I got it from the ladies.” His young chest puffed up. “It’s for all the wicked-mad bones I give the girls that make them crazy for more.”

  I almost choked. “Bones… as in sex?”

  “Fo sheezie.” He chuckled, a sound of pure adolescent glee. “No one’s ever jumped in front of my car like that.”

  No more “get out, bitch” from this one.

  Tanner-I refused to refer to him as Crazy Bones-was cute in a bad boy sort of way. Silver rings winked from his eyebrow, blue hair fell over his forehead and a colorful python tattoo wrapped around the base of his neck. He was a little thin, and his clothes were baggy and ripped. He looked anything but poor, however.

  “My dad said the Viper would be a babe magnet, but fuck if I had any idea how much.”

  “Your dad sounds great,” I said drily.

  His lips dipped into a frown, and his hands clenched over the wheel. Had I said something wrong? Before I had a chance to ask, he changed the subject. “Who was shooting darts at you, and who was that man chasing you? You were, like, getting it from every angle.”

  “The dart man is the devil.” And I didn’t know what Rome was to me. Potential savior? Potential downfall? Potential lover? A combination of all three? “I wish I knew about the one chasing me,” I finally answered, choosing honesty.

  “He looked pi-issed. I’ve never seen a scowl that mean.”

  “Unfortunately, that scowl is not false advertising.” Rome ’s face flashed before my mind. Oh, yes. He’d been pissed. His pupils had been dilated dramatically. His teeth had been bared in a sharp snarl, his nostrils flared. If he had been blessed/cursed with power over the four elements, there would have been a spontaneous Belle BBQ there in the street.

  Before today, I never would have believed something like this was possible. Anyone who said superpowers truly existed would have been filed in the folders of my mind under “Freaking Insane.”

  Tanner sneezed once, twice. He rubbed his nose and cut a narrowed glance in my direction. “Those ashes are potent.”

  “Are they? I hadn’t noticed,” I said drily, turning toward him. For the first time, our gazes met. His eyes were completely black, as if his pupils had swallowed his irises and-I shook my head, certain my eyesight must be compromised. “Are those eight balls?”

  “Hell, yeah.” He grinned, appearing younger and slightly wicked. “I could have gone for the tiger eye contacts, but this way the girls know right up front that I’ve got lucky balls.”

  O-kay. Too much (creepy) information. I needed to find a happy place inside my mind and forget I’d ever heard that. Happy place. Happy place.

  “So, uh, you never told me your name, baby,” he said. He leaned back in his seat and stretched out one arm, draping it over my headrest.

  I didn’t want to give him the real thing. The less he knew about me and my circumstances, the better. “My friends call me… ” Crap. Except for the names Hunted and Dead, my mind was completely blank. Surely I could come up with something. My gaze slid over the car, onto the dashboard, and-I grinned. “Viper. My friends call me Viper.”

  Tanner’s brow furrowed. “Like my car?”

  “That’s right.” I didn’t try to explain. Whatever explanation he created in his mind was sure to trump any lie I could weave.

  “That’s not your name,” he said, his brow furrowing deeper. “I thought I heard that man call you Elle. Or Belle. Or Nell.”

  Thinking quickly (and not altogether intelligently), I said, “He was Spanish, obviously, and was trying to say el stoppo.” Okay, so that sucked major ass. You try almost dying, being chased, then hopping in a car with a complete (horny) stranger and see what kind of lies you can come up with. Jeez.

  A car honked and we swerved, tilting me to the side. I barely managed to hold back my scream. I gasped instead, hand poised over my heart as if such a puny action could slow it down. No emotion, Belle. Feel nothing. “Is someone trying to run us off the road?”

  “Oops. My bad,” Tanner said. He realigned the car, nearly swiping the bumper of a Jeep. “I got distracted.”

  Did I have to ask what distracted him?

  He decided to answer, tho
ugh I hadn’t asked aloud. “Your shirt is so thin.” There was a hint of accusation in his tone.

  God save me from teenagers. Please. I didn’t remember them acting this blatant about their arousal. Maybe that was because I’d been an ugly duckling in high school (and junior high and elementary school) and they hadn’t been turned on around me. I’d been too skinny, had a mouthful of silver braces and had been taller than most of the boys (not that I’m a giant or anything). Yes, I’d even had pimples. But I’d been the best dressed, by God!

  And just so you know, I wasn’t the only voter in that poll.

  Finally, the vehicle eased into a smoothly paved parking lot of an elegant motel, and stopped under the covered entrance. Magnolia trees in full bloom surrounded the sprawling structure, their pink tones giving the place a gentle, welcoming ambiance. A patch of wildflowers separated the parkway from the foyer, a rainbow of colors.

  “This isn’t a cheap motel,” I said, frowning.

  “Well, it is a motel and it’s the cheapest one in the area.” He cut the engine and unfastened his seat belt.

  I released my belt, as well, and bit my bottom lip. The kid wanted to come inside. He expected to have sex with me. How was I going to get out of this one?

  Tanner’s gaze shifted from the immaculate building to me. “We can keep driving, I guess, and find someplace trashier.”

  “No.” I sighed. My shoulders slumped. I’d be out of cash before the end of the day, and had no way of getting more. Silver lining: the people after me would probably assume I’d conserve my money and stay in a real dump. They wouldn’t look for me here. Right? Right. “This will be fine,” I said with forced ease.

  “Don’t worry about money.” He wriggled his eyebrows at me. “I’ll pay.”

  I pursed my lips. He thought I planned to rock his world; of course he wanted to pay. While that disturbed me on one level, it overjoyed me on another, solving several problems. One, I’d keep my anonymity. And two, I’d save what little (stolen) cash I had in my possession. I was, as usual, a girl on a budget.