Into The Fire

Waif, was it? At twenty-eight years old Jamie Kincaid looked much as she’d always looked. Pale skin, gray eyes, hair an indiscriminate shade between brown and blond.

She pushed her hair away from her face, staring at her reflection thoughtfully. Good bones, good skin, even features. Nothing to write home about, but nothing to be ashamed of, either. She was never going to attract the kind of dangerous attention from the wrong kind of man. The only reason Dillon had known of her existence was because of her cousin. If it hadn’t been for Nate he never would have noticed well-behaved Jamie. They’d hardly run in the same crowd in high school.

If you could even say he’d been in high school. There had never been anyone at home to make sure he attended regularly. His mother had left when he was young, and his father had died in a drunken car crash when Dillon was sixteen. He’d dropped out just before graduation, and there’d been some story that had been effectively hushed up. Maybe he’d gotten someone pregnant, though that seemed a relatively mild offense. Beaten someone, been arrested? All she knew was that the school and her family were furious with him, Nate was amused, and Dillon, when she saw him from a distance, defiant.

He was still defiant. Living in this rattrap, living his marginal existence. It was probably the best he could manage with his alcohol and drug problems. The addictions hadn’t yet made their mark on his face. He still looked very much like he’d looked twelve years ago, with a few lines added for interest.

As if he needed anything to make him more interesting. Jamie shivered, turning away from the mirror. This was harder than she’d expected, and she’d expected it to be tough. Seeing him again brought all sorts of feelings back, unwelcome memories flooding through her mind, through her rebellious body. He made her feel young and vulnerable again, just by being there. She’d been a fool to come.

She’d leave, first thing tomorrow. As soon as her car was up and running. He wanted her out of there, and she wanted to go. She’d grab Nate’s things and take off. Dillon wasn’t going to give her the answers she needed. She should have remembered that much about him. He never gave up anything he didn’t want to.

No lock on her bedroom door, of course. Not that it would have made any difference—as far as she knew she was alone in this old building with Dillon, and he wouldn’t let anything as flimsy as a lock get in the way of what he wanted. And why in hell would he want her?

She shut the door, anyway, then picked up the lamp and held it over the mattress. It was thin, stained, but there was nothing crawling on it, and she was so bone tired she could weep. If she were in the habit of crying. She shook out the sleeping bag, unzipped it and crawled in.

And immediately scrambled back out in a panic, knocking the lamp over. It was an old down sleeping bag, and it smelled like Dillon. Like his skin, an ineffable scent that was unmistakable and disturbing. Almost…erotic. She couldn’t possibly sleep with that thing around her—it was like being wrapped in his embrace.

She sat on the thin mattress, shivering. There was no way she could attempt the long drive back home, no way she could escape without sleep. And no way she could sleep without some kind of cover.

She stretched back out on the mattress and pulled the sleeping bag over her. It settled against her like a silky cloud.

There was no escaping him, not that night. She’d chosen to walk straight into the lion’s den—she might as well accept it.

Tomorrow she’d be gone. Come to her senses. If her mother needed more answers she’d have to hire a private detective.

Nate was dead. Nothing would bring him back, and right now answers, justice, even revenge seemed too dangerous a quest. Maybe when she’d gotten some sleep she’d see things differently, but she didn’t think so. One look into Dillon Gaynor’s cold blue eyes reminded her of just how dangerous he could be. And she was a woman who valued safety.

She turned off the light, and the room was plunged into a thick, inky darkness, punctuated by a blinking neon sign somewhere beyond her window. He hadn’t given her a pillow, and there was no way she was going to go looking for one. She punched her sweater into a ball and put it under her head, pulling the sleeping bag up to her chin.

He was everywhere. Beneath her, above her, surrounding her. There was no fighting it, not now. She closed her eyes and remembered.

Twelve years ago

It was a beautiful late spring night in Rhode Island when Jamie Kincaid grew up. She was sixteen years old, privileged, beloved, living in a dream world with nothing more to worry about than grades and dates. Grades were no problem—as her cousin, Nate, always told her, she was too smart for her own good.

And dates weren’t usually an issue, either. She’d had a pleasant, nonthreatening boyfriend who’d done no more than give her a few closedmouthed kisses, and when he dumped her on the eve of the junior prom she was more annoyed than hurt. She had the dress, she’d worked on the committee, she had every intention of going, anyway, and dragooned her cousin Nate to take her.

Nate was more a brother than a cousin. He’d lived with his aunt Isobel and uncle Victor for the last nine years, since his parents had died in a fire. Jamie was an only child, and she’d always wanted an older brother. And ten-year-old Nate was a dream come true for young Jamie.

She still adored him, though nine years together had worn off some of the novelty. But then, everybody adored Nate—he was incredibly handsome, with a dazzling smile, dark eyes, silky black hair and the kind of rugged body that made him perfect for sports and teenage fantasies. He was beloved by teachers and students alike, his surrogate parents, and most especially by his besotted cousin, Jamie.

“What’s up, kitten?”

Jamie looked up from her spot on the floor. The pale pink prom dress billowed out around her, and she wondered if unshed tears made her makeup run. Being dumped wasn’t worth crying for. It was just…annoying.

She managed a crooked smile. Her cousin Nate hated emotions. With his easy charm he breezed through life, and he preferred those around him to do the same, and since Jamie adored him she did her best. “I just got dumped. Zack told me he was breaking up with me and taking Sara Jackson to the prom.”

Nate shook his head. “Great timing. I could have told you Zack was a loser. Want Dillon and me to go beat him up for you?”

Jamie controlled a little shiver. Her cousin was only kidding, but when it came to someone like his friend Dillon Gaynor there was no telling what might happen. “Don’t bother. I’ll get revenge sooner or later.”

“I suppose you still want to go to the prom? Forget it, precious! I may love you like a brother, but I’m not going to take you to a high school junior prom. I’ve already suffered through one once.”

She shook her head. “I wouldn’t ask you. I’m not going.”

“So what are you going to do? Aunt Isobel and uncle Victor have already gone out, and I’ve got plans with Killer. Wanna come along?”

Killer was Nate’s affectionate name for his lowlife friend Dillon. Unfortunately there were times when Jamie wondered whether or not it was a bit too appropriate. “That’s all right. You don’t want a sixteen-year-old tagging along after you. I’ll be fine. There’s a book I want to read….”

“Nope,” Nate said flatly. “You aren’t going to miss out on your prom to curl up with a good book. You’re coming with us. Time to visit the wild side of life. See how the other half lives. Try a little danger.”

“I’m not big on danger.”

“Your big cousin will be there to protect you,” he said. “And Dillon will make sure nothing happens to you.”

“Like I trust him?” she scoffed.

“Trust who?” Dillon said, lounging in her doorway.

That was only one of the things she didn’t like about him. He always walked in, appearing out of the blue. He seemed to know when her parents were gone—Victor and Isobel Kincaid neither liked nor approved of Nate’s friend, and he was wise enough to make himself scarce when they were around. But anytime they were gone he’d be lounging in front of the big-screen TV, eating their food, smoking cigarettes, watching her out of his cool, insolent blue eyes. When he bothered to pay any attention to her at all.

“My little cousin thinks you’re a dangerous man,” Nate said with a laugh. He was a few inches shorter than Dillon, dark hair to Dillon’s bleached-blond shag, sunshine and good nature to Dillon’s mocking deference that always bordered on rudeness. It was no wonder her mother disliked him.

“She’s right,” Dillon said, looking down at her. “So are you ready?”

“I’m trying to talk Jamie into coming with us. She just got stood up, and I thought it was time to broaden her horizons.”

She half expected Dillon to object, but he simply looked at her and shrugged. “If you think she’s up to it.”

“She’s my biggest fan,” Nate said. “She’d never rat us out. Besides, Jamie can be your date since you don’t have one.”

“No!” Jamie said, her horror overriding her usual courtesy.

If anything, Dillon seemed more amused than offended. “I don’t need a date where we’re going. I think you’re asking for trouble here, Nate.”

Nate’s smile was wide, the kind that won over friend and foe alike, clouded men’s minds and women’s, too. “But you know I love trouble.” He reached out a hand to Jamie and pulled her to her feet.

“She’s not wearing that,” Dillon said.

“Killer, you are no fun at all,” Nate protested. “I think we should show up at Crazy Jack’s with my cousin the prom queen.”

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Jamie said nervously.

“Of course it is. Go change into something sexy. Dress like a bad girl for a change. Wouldn’t you like to be a bad girl, just once?”

“Not particularly.” She cast a wary glance up at Dillon. He tended to ignore her, and she’d probably exchanged maybe a dozen words with him in her entire life. “What do you think, Dillon? Should I come with you guys?”

She should have known she’d get no answer from him. “Suit yourself. Just hurry up.”