Mercy Burns by Keri Arthur Page A

indecisive. Why, I had no idea. I mean, he was a stranger, and arather odd one at that. “I want to know who those men were. I want to know who is pulling their strings.”
    “And why would you think I’d know?”
    “You know a hell of a lot more than you’re admitting, so enough of the games, Damon. I need to know what’s going on.”
    He considered me briefly, then said, “Why is knowing so important to you?”
    I hesitated, torn between the need to trust someone and a past that suggested men like him could never be counted on. “I’m a reporter.”
    I didn’t need to see his grimace to feel the sweep of his disdain. “And you think you’re on the trail of an award-winning story? Lady, you have no idea.”
    “If you keep saying that, I just might think you mean it.” I kept my voice deliberately light, masking both my growing irritation and perhaps a little hurt, which was stupid. Why should the opinion of this man carry so much weight? Why would I even let it?
    “This is not something you should be sticking your pretty little nose into.” His voice was as cold as the look he cast my way. “These men are dangerous.
I’m
dangerous. You’d best get well away from us all.”
    “Thanks for the warning but I’m afraid I can’t oblige.” I hesitated, then added softly, “There’s someone I need to save. To do that, I need answers.”
    He didn’t reply, but his disapproval continued to sting the air. I stared out the windows. Obviously, this man had no intention of helping me out. I was stupid to think he ever would.
    He turned right onto another street, slowing down as he slotted into the unusually heavy traffic. I realized we were about to pass
my
apartment and shifted tolook out the window. Would any of the guards from last night be lurking around the front of the building? They had my driver’s license, after all, so they knew where I lived.
    I didn’t see the guards. What I
did
see was flashing lights and dark plumes of smoke.
    My apartment building was on fire.
    Fire engines blocked the road ahead, and thick sprays of water were being directed up high. People huddled farther down the road, some crying, some wrapped in blankets, all of them looking shocked. Some of those faces I knew—my elderly neighbors. At least they’d gotten out. I hoped everyone else had, too.
    My gaze went back to the flames leaping out high above from the top-floor windows.
    My floor.
    And it was a big fire—maybe too big. Had I been there, I might have been dead. I wasn’t, so I guess I had to be grateful for that. But everything would be gone.
    Everything
.
    All the photos, all the little bits and pieces that I’d gathered over the years. Little things that had no value and wouldn’t mean much to anyone else, but to me they were reminders of good times—and there’d been few enough of those in my childhood.
    Tears stung my eyes, and I clenched my fists against the urge to jump out of the car and race to the fire, to save something, anything, of my life and my past. But the flames were just too fierce and there were far too many firemen and cops. I’d never even get near the building, let alone close enough to suck in all that heat and fire in an attempt to quell it.
    God, these bastards just kept destroying things Iloved. It had to stop—and
before
I didn’t have anything left to destroy.
    Of course, it was always possible the fire might have been accidental, but even as the thought crossed my mind, I dismissed it. What were the odds of an accidental fire happening days after Rainey being killed and me being kidnapped?
    I swiped at my eyes, then muttered, “I think I need cake. Thick, gooey chocolate cake.”
    “What, now? Why?” Damon said, confusion evident in his voice as he eased the car’s speed.
    “Because chocolate cake is a perfect pick-me-up when life decides to deal you one of those nasty little surprises.” My voice broke a little, and I took a deep, shuddering breath before adding, “That’s