Silver Fire (Guardians)

by Victoria Paige

  “Jack,” Maia whispered. Damn it. She was not going down like this and not when her husband thought she was pissed at him. Well she was, but that seemed inconsequential compared to suffocating to death by fire. She scrambled back to Sophie.

  “We need to use the cellar.”

  “What? The kitchen is on fire!”

  “Hopefully, not all of it. When we run back, get as many kitchen towels as you can gather. I’ll get the water running.”

  They dashed back to the kitchen. The gunfire had ceased; their assailants were going to let the fire do its work. Maia turned the tap on while Sophie dumped towels into the sink. The fire had ravaged the wall on the opposite side of the huge pantry. It was rapidly licking its way across the kitchen. Maia heaved the trapdoor open as Sophie got in. She followed behind her, letting the trap door fall shut as she began lining the seam with wet towels, keeping some for themselves to cover their faces. She led Sophie to the far end of the underground space and as the inferno blazed upstairs, Maia prayed they could wait it out until help arrived.

  ***

  It was twenty minutes before 5:00 p.m. when Jack loaded the suitcases into the trunk of the Escalade. His phone buzzed and he frowned when he recognized Viktor’s number.

  “McCord.”

  “Maia’s phone went off the grid, have you talked to her recently?”

  “Four hours ago. She should be at Leroux’s residence. I’m heading there right now,” Jack replied as he tried to quell the panic in his gut. There was a simple explanation for this. He glanced at Derek, who understood what he wanted, getting immediately into the passenger side. Jack sat in the driver’s seat and started the car; his friend started messing around with the police band. “Could it be poor reception?”

  “It doesn’t work that way, Jack,” Victor replied.

  “Of course,” Jack muttered. “Well, let me know if you hear anything. I should be at Leroux’s in twenty minutes.”

  “I’m not getting anything from the police scanners,” Derek informed him.

  When the SUV left the underground parking, he immediately punched Maia’s number. Sure enough, it went straight to the standard message of a subscriber not in service. The last time this had happened, Maia’s smartphone had plunged into the Atlantic Ocean. Tension crept up the back of his neck like setting concrete. Everything was fine. He was just overreacting.

  Regardless of what he had concluded, Jack’s foot felt like lead on the gas pedal. They flew past an intersection before getting on the ramp leading to the main highway. Unfortunately, rush hour had started. Jack cursed as he weaved the car through the infernal DC traffic.

  Derek was quiet beside him, which meant his friend was just as worried as he was. Damn it. He hit the speed dial again. Same message.

  “Fuck!” Jack cursed. “Why is everyone driving so slow!” He slammed his palm on the steering wheel. His phone buzzed. It was Tim Burns from the AGS datacenter.

  “McCord.”

  “There’s a fire in the Rosewood Heights neighborhood. It’s been identified as the residence belonging to Dr. Sophie Marie Leroux.”

  “Thanks, Tim,” Jack said, his voice surprisingly calm. He maneuvered the Escalade through a sea of honking vehicles, taking short cuts from the shoulder and cutting in sharply into other cars. If a cop decided to stop him, he would just have to follow him all the way to Rosewood Heights, because he had no intention of pulling over.

  Emergency response vehicles were flying past Jack’s SUV at an alarming rate. He could see the smoke from a distance. If Maia was okay, why hadn’t she called him? As soon as Jack turned into Rosewood Heights, he could see the bedlam of flashing lights, police cars, ambulances, and fire trucks. The fire in the house was under control, but what made Jack’s gut seize was the sight of Maia’s car—burned and charred. Whatever doubt remained that the fire had been an accident vanished. The Escalade screeched to a halt behind an ambulance and he ignored Derek’s yell as he bolted from the SUV, charging into the gathering of emergency responders.

  “Sir, you cannot be here!” A police officer intercepted him, a second cop appearing as backup, ready to take Jack on if he became uncontrollable.

  “That’s my wife’s car,” Jack said furiously, pointing to the remnants of the Mercedes Benz. He was struggling to keep his panic in check. “She was with the owner of the house. Where are they?”

  Jack hated the look of sympathy crossing the officer’s eyes. Maia is not dead, damn it.

  “Steve,” the officer barked through his shoulder radio. “There’s a gentleman here who’s asking for survivors in that house. Any news?”

  “Negative. The house was empty when we got here. But we found hundreds of casings from assault-rifle rounds.” A voice crackled over the radio.

  “Shit.” The officer’s eyes widened, looking warily at Jack, who was getting ready to go ballistic. The police officer addressed Derek. “Is your friend going to keep it together?”

  Jack knew his face was a picture of frustration and anguish, so he turned away from the police officers and took a couple of steps away from the fiery scene. He bent over, resting his hands on his thighs and taking deep calming breaths. His insides were churning and a roar was threatening to tear out from his throat.

  He felt Derek’s hand on his back.

  “She’s okay. She’s okay,” Jack whispered over and over.

  ***

  Derek stared at his friend, who was leaning against the hood of the Escalade. Waiting for news was torture. Viktor had called twice in eight minutes. The AGS top man couldn’t get away because he was running point on a mission from headquarters. How he could concentrate on leading a mission, while calling every freaking minute, was lost on him. Besides, Viktor was just causing more tension and Jack was a hair trigger away from losing it.

  “Derek!” a voice called out. It was Stephen Parker. He was with another woman who Derek recognized as a well-known reporter. “Where’s Sophie?”

  “We haven’t heard anything yet,” Derek replied blandly.

  “Why are you guys here?”

  “Maia was with Sophie.”

  All pairs of eyes swung to Jack, who continued to stare stonily at the razed house without acknowledging the newcomers. The rage and fear in him was palpable, rippling close to his skin. No one wanted to speculate on the fate of the two women. It was a one story house. Even if it were expansive, the firemen should have found them by now.

  A commotion caught everyone’s attention. Paramedics rushed to the front of the house when a fireman emerged, carrying a limp body. A second fireman followed, hoisting a similar load.

  All four of them charged forward, but a line of police officers prevented them from getting close to the fire victims.

  “That’s my wife!” Jack snarled.

  “Sir, the paramedics are doing all they can,” an officer said firmly, then looked at the rest of the group. “You all need to back off.”

  Jesus Christ, Derek thought. He wasn’t sure he could hold it together either. If it were not for the color of their hair, telling the women apart would be impossible because Maia and Sophie were covered in soot.

  Everyone fell silent as the paramedics frantically administered CPR.

  One of the women started coughing.

  “Oh, baby girl. Thank god!” the reporter cried, collapsing beside her friend. Oxygen was quickly administered to Sophie.

  All the medical personnel shifted their attention to Maia, who was still unresponsive.

  “Come on, babe. Please,” Jack pleaded and then more forcefully said, “You are not dying on me, damn you!”

  Tense moments passed until finally, Maia heaved as violent coughing racked her body. “Fuck!” she croaked. The paramedic started chuckling, partly in relief, partly in amusement. The red-haired Guardian didn’t even wait for the paramedic to fit the oxygen mask over her. She simply grabbed it from his hands, fitting it over her face, and inhaled deeply.

  Derek watched his friend sink to the ground i
n relief beside his wife. The medical personnel did not have the heart to turn him away and instead worked around the couple to check on Maia’s vitals. Jack gently cradled his wife’s head on his lap and threaded his fingers repeatedly through her hair, murmuring soothing words. There was extreme emotion emanating from the scene before him. Derek was drawn to Sophie, who was presently being fussed over by her two friends. He wanted it to be him fussing over her. This was getting complicated.

  ***

  “No way are we taking that trip tonight,” Jack told his wife firmly. “I’m taking you back to the apartment, and you are sleeping this off.”

  Maia, as usual, was treating this incident as just another day in the office, and it was pissing her husband off. Derek left the two to argue and walked over to Sophie who was sitting on the bumper of the ambulance and receiving a final once over from the paramedic. He had made a decision tonight; she was coming home with him. Surely one night couldn’t get complicated, but he’d be damned before he let her stay with Stephen Parker, who probably wouldn’t know how to handle a gun. Nor would he leave Sophie with her friend Beth Turner, who probably had her own enemies being the nosy reporter she was. Derek was right, sleeping arrangements were being argued over this very second.

  “Sophie is staying with me,” Stephen told Beth firmly.

  “Nope, she’s coming with me, I know tae-kwon-do,” Beth retorted. Derek rolled his eyes—as if tae-kwon-do could stop an attacker with an assault rifle. Time to throw down.

  “She’s coming with me,” Derek said in a matter-of-fact voice.

  “I am?” Sophie whispered.

  “No, she isn’t,” Beth cut in, scowling at Derek.

  “Yes, she is.”

  “Um, shouldn’t that be my decision?” Sophie asked, eyeing the two of them cautiously. Stephen was chuckling, obviously enjoying the exchange.

  “No,” Derek and Beth said simultaneously, glaring at each other.

  “You think Lockwood, I’ll let you get your grubby little fingers on my friend?”

  “I’ve don’t have grubby little fingers, they’re long and hard and I know how to use them,” Derek shot back. He grinned at Sophie and would bet the good physicist was blushing adorably under all that soot.

  “I bet you do,” Beth answered derisively. “You’ll ruin her reputation.”

  “Good god, woman, you make me sound like I’m a man of gross moral turpitude,” Derek said in mock indignation. He probably was morally depraved, but Sophie couldn’t possibly know all the sordid details.

  “Um, newsflash, Lockwood. You’ve got three women on alternating days on any given week,” Beth declared, a gleam of triumph in her voice.

  Derek clenched his jaw. How the hell did she know that?

  “I do my research on whoever does business with my friend,” Beth answered the question in his eyes.

  “You promised you would stop doing that.” Sophie scowled at her friend before spearing Derek with a disdainful look. “Seriously. Three women, Mr. Lockwood? It’s surprising that nothing has, er, fallen off.”

  Derek’s brow shot up in amusement at the first sexual barb the usually serious Sophie Leroux had made. “You can call me, Derek,” he told Sophie softly, then looking at Beth Turner. “If you’ve done your research thoroughly, Ms. Turner, then you should know that I could effectively keep Sophie safe, for tonight at least.”

  “He’s right,” Maia agreed, walking up to the group, Jack at her heels, clearly not willing to let his wife out of his sight.

  “Derek is ex-Special Forces,” Maia continued. “You could stay with him tonight while I send in my recommendations to Viktor. I’ve also informed the Falls Church police department that AGS is taking the lead on this, so we don’t need to give them our statements regarding this incident. Our attackers had masks, but they were definitely dark-skinned. Whether they were African Americans or imports, we do not know. Their weapons were old-style AK-47s, and they attacked with Molotov cocktails. Not a well-funded group. Bottom line, they want you dead. You are a threat to them, we need to work on that angle.”

  Sophie was coming home with him tonight, Derek thought with satisfaction, but her next words hacked through his ego like a machete hacking through a coconut.

  “I’ll stay with Mr. Lockwood but only if Beth goes with me,” Sophie said, looking at the reporter beseechingly.

  Maia smiled, Jack and Stephen were chuckling and Beth was smirking.

  Derek had never regretted his sexual exploits as much as he did tonight. And, damn him, he could not resist saying, “Sure, could get interesting.”

  “Sorry Lockwood, you’re not my type,” Beth retorted, then looking suggestively at Maia. “I’d do Ms. Pierce though.”

  Turner: 1, Lockwood: 0.

  “Beth!” Sophie admonished, but couldn’t repress the grin forming on her lips.

  “There’ll be no one doing my wife,” Jack informed Beth blandly. “Except me.”

  “All right, so now that we’ve confirmed sleeping arrangements, who’s riding with who?” Derek asked. He was quitting before he dug himself a deeper hole.

  ***

  “I have two extra rooms, linens are in the closet,” Derek informed them when they got to his condominium. Sophie and Derek rode in Beth’s beat-up sedan and went to the reporter’s apartment so Sophie could take a shower as Beth packed their bags. While the women got ready, Derek went to the convenience store to buy a few essentials Sophie said she needed to get through the night. Most of her possessions were burned and what survived the fire sustained water damage. They picked up some Chinese take-out and made it to Derek’s condo by 9:00 p.m.

  “Nice place,” Sophie remarked as she observed a surprisingly uncluttered space. The first thing she noticed was the wide expanse of windows that overlooked the New Park City skyline. The interior was decorated with modern masculine flair: sleek leather sofa, contemporary wood tables and diffused lighting. There were a couple of expensive metal sculptures and abstract blown glass figurines displayed strategically throughout the condo. “Fixed it up, yourself?”

  “Hell no,” Derek laughed. “I was helping out a friend of mine who was breaking into interior design work. I have a lady who comes in to keep the place tidy.” He started taking the containers out of the paper bag. “Why don’t you ladies get yourself settled while I unpack our dinner?”

  Sophie and Beth carried their overnight bags down the hallway. An open kitchen separated the bedrooms. The master bedroom was to the right of the kitchen, up two steps through a short hallway that flared wide and ended diagonally with Mahogany wood double-doors. A longer hallway started on the left of the kitchen that led to the two guest bedrooms.

  “Hmm, I wonder which of the three ladies does his housework,” Beth whispered to Sophie.

  “Beth, I really wish you’d stop baiting him,” Sophie sighed. “I always end up in the crossfire.”

  “He’s interested in you.”

  “He is not.” Sophie opened the first door on the left. The room had a queen-sized bed, and was decorated in the same minimalist style as the rest of the condo. “We can share this room.”

  “Stop changing the subject,” Beth said. “You’re definitely on his radar. I see the way he watches you.”

  “Stop making me feel self-conscious!” Sophie hissed. Her friend was beginning to annoy her. It had not escaped her attention how Derek’s melty chocolate eyes burned through her whenever he addressed her. She felt like she was getting unscrambled, like a puzzle he was trying to piece together and that unnerved her.

  “All I’m saying is you need some fun,” Beth remarked. “And, I’m not really baiting him. I’m just cutting through the crap, and he shouldn’t even pretend he’s anything else than a quick lay.”

  Sophie tipped her eyes at her friend. “Really Beth, I think there’s more to Derek. He didn’t have to offer me protection tonight.”

  “You’re right,” the reporter conceded reluctantly. “Then again these MDI guys have a reputation f
or loving trouble, and we’re talking the getting dead kind. Which reminds me!” The last sentence was loudly spoken. “Maia Pierce is a Guardian? Holy fucking hell!”

  “Keep your voice down,” Sophie shushed. “I signed a non-disclosure agreement. But I can hardly lie to you now, can I? Please Beth, if word gets out that Jack McCord’s wife is an AGS agent, can you imagine who would come after her?”

  Beth shuddered. “Don’t worry, Sophie. Not even gonna touch it. I do not want Jack McCord for an enemy, or Maia Pierce’s hell on my hands.”

  Sophie woke with a start, her throat was feeling parched and raw. The smoke trauma had scraped her pharynx real good. Her friend snored softly beside her. She was tempted to wake her up but decided this latest dream of Adam shouldn’t be shared just yet. It wasn’t about the night he was taken, it was one of their hazy interludes, except his eyes weren’t green any more, they were chocolate like Derek’s. Melty brown eyes that pinned her down as his body repeatedly thrust inside her. Oh god, Sophie thought, as she sat up. She glanced at her friend again; she should wake her up. It was Beth’s fault after all for making her all too aware of their sexy, charming host.

  God, her subconscious just said sexy, Sophie groaned inwardly as she threw the blanket back and got out of the bed. She was wearing one of her friend’s babydoll slips. For all her brashness, Beth loved sexy lingerie and that included sleepwear. Sophie was tall, so the hem which was already short, came indecently just below the V of her legs. And she wasn’t wearing panties either. She didn’t have any, and she wasn’t about to wear Beth’s. Sophie peeked through the darkened hallway. It was 2:00 a.m., Derek had watched some sports after dinner while she and Beth retired early. Actually she and her friend chatted in bed until one of them fell asleep, Sophie didn’t remember who dozed off first. The condo was quiet. It was a full moon, the lunar light shining through the wide panes illuminated the living room and kitchen enough for Sophie to make her way around without bumping into furniture. Derek had a high-tech water filtration system, and the water tasted so good without the chlorine aftertaste of tap water.