Playing with Fire. Gena Showalter

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СКАЧАТЬ lying about your dad.” For some reason, he sounded accusatory. “You pay for his stay at the assisted living center, and he can’t leave it because of his regimented medications.” Rome shrugged. “There’s more to it than that, but I’m not going to discuss it with you right now.”

      Did I believe him? Did I believe that he now meant me no harm? “If you’re so big on keeping me alive now, prove it. Untie me.”

      “I don’t think so.”

      “But—”

      He cut off my words by stuffing more pancake into my mouth. “You have no idea of the damage you can do. Your inexperience is dangerous.”

      I forced the food down my throat. “Inexperience? Uh, hello. In case you were wondering, this isn’t a new job I applied for. No one has experience with this.”

      His gaze narrowed on me. “You’re likely to get more experience than you’re prepared for if you don’t learn to slow down on the emotional trigger. Have you noticed that bad things happen when you get mad?”

      “Are you saying the fire is caused by anger?” I ran my tongue over my teeth. “Well, anyone would be quick to respond with fury if they woke up half-naked with a hired goon at the foot of their bed.”

      “Hired goon.” He laughed. “I like that.”

      “Excellent, “ I said drily. “Then you’ll probably like Rat Bastard, as well.”

      He didn’t lose his amusement. “All I’m saying is that your emotions go unrestrained. You don’t try to tamp them down in the least.”

      “I do, too! If I didn’t, I’d have fed you your balls at our first meeting.”

      “Ah, that kind of sweet talk really turns me on.” Another grin, this one slower, more leisurely, spread over his features, softening his expression, making him look all the sexier, and giving him a charm I found irresistible.

      I stiffened, not liking how attractive I found him. How stupid could I be? Apparently the more time I spent with him, the lower my IQ dropped. My eyes narrowed, and I worked at the cord binding my wrists, doing my best not to let him see my arms wiggle.

      “Just so you know, “ he said, feeding me another spoonful of eggs. His countenance lost all traces of humor; his eyes went flat. “I’m not the only hired goon to show up at the foot of your bed. Someone broke into your apartment last night.”

      “What?” My back straightened.

      “He tried to steal you from me.” Rome’s voice deepened, became utterly menacing. “I knew more like him would come, so I got you out of there as quickly and quietly as possible and brought you here.”

      I paused, my blood chilling at the thought of the danger I’d encountered and hadn’t known about. I didn’t doubt for a second that Rome was telling the truth about this. My dreams, I realized, hadn’t really been dreams. They’d been real. Too real. I’d seen a man come at me with a knife.

      But he hadn’t killed me because … because … The answer clicked into place. Rome had killed him first. Rome had protected me. Up to this point, I’d been able to use sarcasm and humor to mask my fear; I couldn’t now. This was real, in-your-face death. It couldn’t be undone. Wasn’t pretend.

      “He tried to stab me, “ I whispered, going pale. “I remember seeing his weapon.”

      Rome blinked in surprise. “No. He tried to kidnap you. He tried to stab me. You know an awful lot for someone who was supposedly asleep.”

      “I only saw bits and pieces, but I thought … I thought it was a dream.”

      “No, no dream.” He pinched a bite of eggs. “What else did you see?”

      “There was a jaguar there. I saw—” My brow furrowed. “Surely I’m wrong. Surely there wasn’t a wild animal in my apartment.”

      “No, of course there wasn’t,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You’re blending your dreams with reality.”

      But the sights, the sounds had been so real. So vivid. Uh, hello. If a jungle cat had been there, there would be signs. Like a gnawed-off arm. “Who was the man?” I asked, my voice trembling.

      “I didn’t care to stop and ask his name. All I know is that his boss, Vincent, won’t be pleased with the failure. Vincent will send more agents, and honey, trust me when I say you do not want them to capture you. I’ve seen what Vincent does to his victims. He’ll test you, painfully, cruelly, in ways even my boss has outlawed. And then, if you’re still alive, he’ll force you by whatever means necessary to work for him.”

      Terrifying words, but Rome wasn’t finished. “And don’t think you can lie to him, tell him you’ll work for him and escape. His power is making people tell the truth. No one can lie to the man. No one. And it’s not because some women find him attractive, “ he added drily.

      Attractive. Pretty Boy. Vincent. It made sense. I’d wanted to tell Pretty Boy all my secrets, I recalled. The pulse in my neck hammered wildly. “Isn’t that what your boss wants to do to me? Test me, then make me work for him?”

      “Not painfully, and not by force. You’ll either do what he wants or be imprisoned like the other naughty supernatural beings.”

      “What kind of supernatural beings are we talking about?”

      “Shape-shifters of every kind. People who can walk through walls or suck the soul right out of you. I believe I mentioned the people whose bodily fluids are so toxic they’ll kill you if they even breathe on you. Shall I go on?”

      I shook my head. All of those things, creatures, living weapons … yet … “Why haven’t I ever heard of these people before, Rome? Why does no one know of them?”

      “PSI is damn good at its job, that’s why. We make sure the world remains ignorant about the paras. About scrims. About all of it.”

      Dear God. “Scrims?”

      “Scrims are supernatural criminals. Vincent is a scrim because he inflicts unnecessary pain, he kills when he could lock away, and he enjoys doing it. But he also captures and controls other scrims—in fact, he’s captured more than anyone else and any other agency, so the government caters to him. They allow him to live, turning a blind eye to his experiments.”

      It was too much to take in, almost unbelievable. “Are … are scrims born or made?”

      “Some are born, some are made. The more experiments are done, the more scrims are born. It’s a vicious cycle.” His expression softened. “What I told you about the prison is true, too. Château Villain, as we’ve affectionately dubbed it, is very real, and you won’t like it. A sassy little thing like you would end up as Venom’s bitch.”

      “Venom?”

      “She used to work for Vincent. Her saliva has deadly toxins, and if she kisses you …”

      I swallowed.

      “Vincent is one of the reasons PSI exists. Fixing the catastrophes СКАЧАТЬ