Flame Unleashed (Hell to Pay)

by David, Jillian

  She’d become the best secret weapon for the worst laid plans imagined since the beginning of time.

  Which hurt more: the fact that she believed there was a flicker of hope the curse could be broken or that she’d almost fallen for a winsome face who only wanted her for his insane scheme?

  Odie caught up to her a block from the restaurant, his hair askew from running. Of course, he wasn’t winded.

  He gripped her upper arm. “Please, chère, listen—”

  Cutting him off with a slice of her hand, she pivoted out of his grasp. It was like her husband’s ultimate betrayal had happened all over again. The scab had not yet healed, and here was Odie, pulling it off to expose the fiery nerves beneath.

  “Look, you had your fun. You tried pressuring me, and you tried rescuing me. Then you worked the sympathy angle. Congratulations, sir, you nearly had me, but as they say, I wasn’t born yesterday. Far from it.”

  She walked again, preternaturally fast, but he kept pace, a large, silent figure at her side. For a moment, she indulged in a fantasy of Odie as her protector. For a moment, she flirted with the idea of letting her guard down and allowing him to be vigilant for the both of them, to cede control and finally relax.

  But that required trust. In herself and in him. She had neither.

  “I only wanted you to see the truth, chère.”

  If only his velvet voice didn’t slide past her defenses. If only the hurt on his handsome face didn’t appear so sincere, she might believe him. Might. But not this evening. Not ever.

  “I see the truth, right in front of me, and it comes in the form of a charlatan.”

  “No. My desire to destroy Jerahmeel is real.”

  She hissed at the name and chanced a look around the dark streets, then took off again.

  Odie swung his muscled arms as he matched her rapid strides. “The history, my two beautiful daughters, my wife—it’s all true. Not a word is made up.”

  “You’re telling that story to use me, though.”

  “I wanted you to know how I became Indebted. And I also believed that you have the same goals as I do.”

  “Well, I don’t. And I don’t plan to join your project any time soon. If you’ll excuse me.”

  They arrived at the hotel where the marquis lights cast a too-bright yellow glow over the sidewalk. A few late-night patrons strolled through the doors, probably ready to lay their heads on the bed and sleep until morning, a very mortal human activity and one that she could never truly appreciate in her Indebted form.

  He caught her arm in a firm grip that sent traitorous shivers into her neck. “I’ll walk you up.”

  It wasn’t a question.

  Her breath caught. Her emotions switched from reverse to fast-forward.

  Normally, she didn’t respond to the caveman act, but frankly, she was weary of public scenes, of refusals, of conflict. A mutinous quiver of excitement flitted in her belly.

  No. She refused to feel anything for this man. For any man. No more opportunities for betrayal.

  Right?

  He gestured toward the large glass doors, the hotel lights reflecting in his eyes. “So?”

  Unexpected warmth crept up her face as she recalled their torrid kiss and those firm, passionate, demanding lips that tormented her earlier today. His offer held the promise of more than an escort, and God help her, that temptation replaced the anger she felt as he tried to coerce her into participating in his plan. But she hadn’t experienced anger—true anger—in such a long time. She’d forgotten how the adrenaline surged and created other feelings.

  Now she experienced a different sensation. Was it the man or the heightened emotion that piqued her sudden wanton curiosity? How would it feel to have sex with someone who made her feel this mad, this excited, this fearful of deception? A coil of interest heated her lower belly.

  Would the risk of experimentation be worth the pain of betrayal?

  How much life had she missed—would she miss—by continuing to hide?

  Propriety be damned, she wanted to spend more time in this man’s presence. She could enjoy physical intimacy without joining him in his lunatic scheme. She felt like a woman stepping off a cliff, one foot hovering over empty space.

  Solid ground. Old Ruth.

  Air beneath her other foot. New Ruth.

  She could always send him away, right?

  “Yes.”

  During the excruciatingly slow elevator ride to the top floor, their steamy sideways glances thickened the tense air. Her body thrummed in tune with this man. His every sharp breath, his every movement, set her hypersensitive nerves on edge. He personified danger to her heart, to her soul, to the entire world.

  And her cloistered heart trembled at the danger. Risk avoidance no longer mattered. She wanted pleasure for herself.

  She startled at the elevator ding, and then preceded Odie down the hall. Sensing his gaze on her body, her skin prickled.

  At the door, she slid the electronic card into the lock. Odie’s hand drifted down her lower back.

  Hearing a muffled groan inside the suite, she froze. Another moan emanated from the within and panic flooded her mind. Meeting Odie’s horrified expression, she darted through the door and into the salon.

  When she flipped on the lights, the scene crushed her.

  Barnaby, in his favorite linen pajamas, lay crumpled on the floor, gasping for air, his arthritic hands clawing at his neck. The scent of rotten eggs permeated the room. Jerahmeel stood to the side, a laconic smile on his red mouth as he twirled a lock of oily hair around a smoking finger.

  “Hello, my dear. You took much too long to return this evening. I had to entertain myself until you arrived.”

  She drew back, right into the hard body of Odie, who wrapped his strong fingers around her upper arms. If he hadn’t supported her, she would have fallen to her knees. Or worse, flew at Jerahmeel.

  “Mon dieu,” Odie whispered.

  Barnaby’s chest heaved as he wheezed, and his eyes rolled back in his head. He needed help and fast, but Jerahmeel stood in her way with a satisfied smirk pasted on his twisted face.

  “Damn you! What have you done? Get away from him!” A piercing whistle, like that damned teakettle pressure sensation when her power erupted years ago, shot through her head.

  For the second time in 150 years, rage consumed Ruth. She let loose her fury at the most deadly being on Earth.

  And she didn’t care one bit.

  Chapter 9

  At least the All Hellish One had the presence of mind to be taken aback.

  Odie had never heard of a time when Jerahmeel was at an utter loss for words. Hopefully, Jerahmeel was at a loss for action as well, or Ruth, Barnaby, and Odie were at risk of immediate incineration.

  Unfortunately, at some point, Jerahmeel would recover from the shock that his favorite employee, his precious, docile Ruth, had just laid into him. Jerahmeel’s pride would not tolerate the hatred pouring out of her trembling frame. Soon, the Lord of Evil would revert to his go-to emotion: cruel rage.

  Mon dieu, Odie would do what he could to make sure she wasn’t anywhere near the line of fire when Jerahmeel snapped. As Ruth stepped to one side, Odie shadowed her, watching Jerahmeel, ready to absorb brimstone if the Lord of Merde exacted his revenge.

  She pulled away from Odie and crouched over Barnaby. The old man gasped a painful, wet, rattling inhalation. When she ran her hands over him, he opened his eyes and moved his mouth, but no words came out.

  Tears streaming down her face, she screamed again at Jerahmeel. “What did you do?”

  How had she projected her voice so loudly? Even the windows rattled.

  “I didn’t touch him.” Jerahmeel smiled, those lizard thin lips compressing into nothing, his black stare reflecting nothing.

  “Damn it, you didn’t touch those men a few hours ago, yet they’re dead. So let’s try again: What did you do?”

  Odie cringed. He loved the vision of Ruth as an avenging angel, but she’d
now pushed Jerahmeel far past what Odie had ever known his boss to tolerate. If she didn’t back down, they’d all be worse than dead very soon, and then there’d be no one to take care of Barnaby.

  Jerahmeel rubbed his narrow chin, mouth twisted into a moue of disappointment. “My dear, when you were unwilling to accept my proposition this evening, it seemed that stronger motivation was in order. Clearly, your reluctance to join me could only be tied to your duty to this ... mortal. Therefore I removed your duty.”

  “Removed?”

  “You’re welcome, I’m certain.”

  “Oh God. Barnaby?”

  The elderly man’s chest heaved with each word. “Dear ... can’t breathe.”

  “Odie, call 911. Barnaby needs medical help. We have to save him.”

  “What?” Jerahmeel’s eyebrows rose. “I thought you’d be happy that I cleared the path for us to be together. Unencumbered.”

  She rose and rounded on Jerahmeel, auburn hair tumbling over her shoulders, all glorious blazing rage, like a mother wolf about to take on a grizzly bear to protect her brood. Amazing. And so amazingly stupid. Odie lurched forward and pinned an arm around her as he pulled her away.

  “Chère, this isn’t wise,” he said, willing her to hear him.

  “Damn wise, I think.”

  “You can’t win this round,” he whispered.

  “I’d like to try.” She actually growled.

  With her strength equal to his, Odie couldn’t restrain her indefinitely.

  “Please, chère,” he whispered. “Think of Barnaby.”

  Something snapped in her fierce anger, her body sagged, and Odie slid his arms away from her arms.

  But then she stiffened and faced down Jerahmeel.

  Oh, mon dieu, she might be brave, but this bordered on foolhardiness of epic proportions.

  “Get. Out.” Her calm voice didn’t fool anyone.

  So hard was her trembling, Odie felt it in the soles of his feet. Nothing good could come of this confrontation. No one ordered Jerahmeel to do anything and survived.

  Jerahmeel’s fingertips glowed and smoked. “You command me?” he warned.

  She jerked an arm toward Barnaby’s curled form. “Look what you did. Yes, I command you. Get out.”

  While she didn’t yell, her voice had amplified. Somehow Odie could hear her words inside of his head. Odd vibrations radiated out from her, like nothing he had ever experienced before.

  “No one tells me what to do.” Jerahmeel seethed.

  “Do you really want a chance for us to be together?”

  The double echo of her voice pierced Odie’s ears and he winced. What the hell?

  Jerahmeel patted his curls. “Of course, belle.”

  “Then get out.” Her voice reverberated out of her body and drilled into Odie’s mind.

  “Impossible.”

  The Lord Most Vile pointed, and embers flared to flame on the carpet near Barnaby. This standoff was about to go south in a hurry. Odie had to end the confrontation without anyone being destroyed and help his old friend.

  “My lord, the lady is overwrought.” Odie used as soothing a voice as he could stomach. “Perhaps you should give her some time to consider the efforts you’ve made on her behalf. You know how women are, non? Hardheaded. They don’t like to be told anything but instead want to draw their own conclusions.”

  Jerahmeel stepped back with a bizarre expression that might have passed as an attempt to look seductive. It was all Odie could do to resist shoving Ruth out of the room to get her away from this disgusting creature. At least Jerahmeel’s fingertips had stopped smoking.

  “Too true. Women are capricious and weak-minded, unable to see past what’s in front of them. I will take your advice this one time.”

  When Ruth opened her mouth, Odie jabbed her hard in the ribs, and air whooshed from her lungs. For a moment, she was speechless. Jerahmeel needed to leave, for all their sakes.

  Jerahmeel dropped into a courtly bow with a flourish. “Mademoiselle, I bid you adieu for this evening. I will call upon you when you’ve regained your senses. You will come to me of your own free accord.”

  Before Ruth could launch into a diatribe that might compel Jerahmeel to immolate the entire hotel, her boss simply disappeared. She stared, slack-jawed, as the residual smoke dissipated.

  Odie shook his head to clear the ringing in his ears. “Um, chère? Barnaby. He’s almost on fire.”

  “Holy hell.”

  She batted out the small flames with her bare hands. Although the blisters and open wounds would heal quickly, the burns still hurt. While she ministered to a gasping Barnaby, Odie thumbed on his cell phone and called 911 before opening the windows and fanning away the worst of the smoke.

  The heavy silence was broken only by Barnaby’s pained wheezes.

  Odie was helpless again. He could do nothing for his friend. Barnaby’s fate was in the hands of the medical personnel or God, if there was such a being. Just like a replay of his dear Ada’s death, where he watched through a window as the lady caregiver kissed his dying daughter’s cheeks. Ada’s fear and pain—Odie should have been the one to comfort his child. But it made no difference if Odie’d been there; he couldn’t have stopped her death. Just as he could not stop Barnaby’s pain.

  What the hell had Jerahmeel done to Barnaby? Whatever it was, although the man appeared critically injured, there were no visible wounds.

  Medical personnel arrived and placed Barnaby on a stretcher. With oxygen running into his nose and IVs dangling from both arms, the old man’s frame disappeared beneath the wires and lines. As quickly as they had come, the emergency personnel whisked Barnaby away.

  With a quiet word and a palmed large bill, Odie encouraged the hotel’s night manager hovering at the door to withdraw and remove concerned onlookers.

  In the suite, silence descended. No movement, no voices. Nothing. Only a residual odor of burnt carpet and sulfur, acrid reminders of the consequences of contemplating hope.

  Ruth knelt on the floor. For an instant, her eyes were a complete black. Not just the irises, which was normal for an Indebted, but totally black throughout. As the vibrations pouring off her body reduced, she blinked back to hazel and then stared into space.

  “Chère?” He broke the deathly quiet atmosphere.

  While he respected Ruth’s desire to lay low, Odie’s anger at this attack only served to fuel his determination to make his ultimate plan work.

  Vendetta echoed louder and louder in his mind.

  The image of his own two dark-haired daughters dying superimposed itself on the woman sitting before him.

  “Ruth?”

  He crouched behind her, wrapped his arm around her upper chest, and pulled her flush against him, holding her tightly. Her stiff frame eventually relaxed to the point where he appreciated how right it felt to have her in his arms. How good she would feel in his embrace for years to come.

  Damn it. Not years. Where had that thought come from?

  An evening or two of that curvy body beneath his, exploring the possibilities of sex with a being who possessed endless stamina. But no commitment. That was his goal, correct?

  Besides, all of his past commitments had long since turned to dust. And if he coerced Ruth to help with his plan, he would be risking her life.

  Therefore, attachments made no sense. Right?

  Perhaps he’d begun to consider her as more than a luscious sexual interlude.

  No. Not possible.

  Unable to stop himself, he brushed his lips over the top of her head, inhaling lavender and mint in the silky strands.

  When he stood up, she took his offered hand, got to her feet, and turned toward him. The haunted, empty expression on her sculpted features drove a spike of fear into his gut. She glanced around the room, to him, and back to the room again, like a soul searching for a home. Flickers of panic swirled in those golden-speckled depths and short gasps made her shoulders heave. He needed her to focus on something else before she
lost her composure altogether.

  He touched her arm. “We should clean up and check out of the hotel.”

  “Why?” That barely audible voice shook him more than her screams.

  “It’s not wise to leave any personal items here. I imagine neither you nor Barnaby wish to return to this hotel room after all that has happened.”

  She remained rooted in place, her gaze distant, looking through him. “No. Of course not.”

  “So let’s pack up Barnaby’s and your belongings. Unless you want me to take care of it so you can go immediately to the hospital?”

  “No, we can be quick about it.” Like a sleepwalker awakening, she tilted her face up to him and blinked. “Of course. We can be quick. We can be Indebted-quick.”

  They raced through the suite, stuffing items into suitcases. With their preternatural speed, they had set the room to rights within five minutes, even hiding the fire spot beneath another elegant throw rug and opening all of the windows. Odie would pay the manager generously for the burn on the carpet and blame it on candles and carelessness. Problem solved. Fewer questions later.

  He took all the bags down and called for the valet to bring his car around. The tour with his old friend this afternoon seemed like a million years ago.

  As Odie exited the hotel, the vision of Ruth standing on the sidewalk, alone, head bowed, her hands wrapped around her upper arms, hit him like a sucker punch to the gut. At least the blank expression had been replaced by sharp concern. Beneath the marquis lights, tears glinted in her eyes. Her full lips quivered in a frown until she clenched her jaw.

  Not only did he need to focus on this woman’s well-being, but he needed to help his friend. And how about the plan to destroy Jerahmeel? With his appearances lately, Jerahmeel's strength would be at a nadir. Odie had too much to do, too many proverbial plates to balance. Could he keep them all spinning without letting any crash to the ground? Had he become so heartless that he considered Ruth to be just another plate?

  Absolutely not.

  In this moment of crystal clarity, he came to a decision. Ruth took priority over everything else. “All checked out. Let’s go see to Barnaby.”