Fyre & Revenge Read online

  Her lips compressed a little, the brief flash of irritation concealed before Logan was sure he’d seen it. Okay, kitty didn’t like charm then. Pity, he’d like to find out what it took to get her to purr. Logan ignored the thought and smiled.

  “No worries. Please come in.” A small smile played at the corners of her lips as she stepped back. Very polite, a professional mask. “Have you had a massage before?”

  Logan’s face set. Massage? What sort of dodgy place was this? Wasn’t aromatherapy sniffing weird oils with a towel over your head or something? Not get your kit off and a bit of ‘how’s your father’? His mood took a nose dive, the promise she’d initially presented souring under the possibility she could be a high-class hooker. Ray Borne was no doubt her pimp, Logan decided in disgust.

  However, if this was just a front for a brothel, then getting them shut down and acquiring the property was going to be so much simpler, which was what he should be concentrating on rather than his disappointment over Kitty here. But then, when were women ever what a guy thought they’d be?

  However, to prove what was going on he needed some sort of proof. So he had to go in and see exactly what sort of ‘services’ were on offer. He smiled again.

  “Not recently. And most definitely not that sort of massage, how much do you charge for ‘extras’?”

  * * *

  No matter how many times she heard that line Rae’s temper rose each and every time. Most of the time it was a joke from old school friends she treated for sporting injuries. But no one ever had the sheer audacity to say it to her as cold and calculated as this man. He wasn’t local so he didn’t know her, or the struggles she’d had to get the business—her dream—set up. No one who did would ever dare say that to her.

  When she’d opened the door, she’d been surprised to say the least. She’d known straight away he wasn’t local. Rae had lived in Ashton on Sea all her life and she knew everyone. More than that, she also knew the names of people’s extended families, even the odd cousin who had moved over to Brittany. It was a close community to say the least.

  It was more than that, though. It was the way he was dressed—stark black coat over an expensive suit. Rae might not have been well travelled but she watched enough TV and film to recognise designer tailoring when she saw it. He was dressed the way she expected a secret agent or a high class businessman to be dressed. Since secret agents tended to be few and far between in Ashton on Sea, Rae’s bet was on the latter.

  “Mr. St. James.” Her voice was professional but with a firm hint of censure and disapproval in it. “I am a professional massage therapist, not a prostitute. Comments like that are inappropriate and insulting. Please respect that or I shall have to ask you to leave.”

  He didn’t bat an eyelid, just looked her up and down with that cool, blue gaze. Rae stood her ground. If she hadn’t been so mad, she’d have thought he was quite attractive. No, scratch that, very attractive. Possibly the hottest thing on two legs she’d ever seen.

  Pity he was a rat with a mind in the gutter. Extras indeed!

  “Actually that’s where you’re wrong,” he drawled, still looking at her. A direct look that said he could look into her eyes and know all her secrets. Examine them like a butterfly under a magnifying glass being pinned out for display.

  “Is that right?” Rae’s temper not only fluttered like a flag in the breeze, it went into full sail in the blink of an eye. How dare he? Booked client or no, he wasn’t getting a bloody massage now. In fact, the sooner she got him out the door the better! “Wrong about what, may I ask? The fact that I’m a professional, or the fact that you’ve already insulted me?”

  He smiled. Not a nice smile, a ruthless one. Rae shivered; it was the sort of smile that said its owner was used to getting exactly what he wanted when he wanted.

  “No, I’ll believe you if you say you’re a professional. I’m sure you’re extremely good at what you do. What you were wrong about was my name.”

  Rae was too annoyed to catch the small start of warning her instincts gave her. If she’d been thinking clearly she’d have realised snapping at a complete stranger wasn’t such a good idea.

  “If I didn’t need a name to report to the police I wouldn’t give a damn.” Her voice cut through the silence in the cold corridor, made colder by the still open door. “Now please, leave… It would be a pity if poor Mr. St. James got lumped with a charge of harassment when he’s done nothing wrong, now wouldn’t it?”

  She’d gone too far. Anger flared in his eyes as he moved. The door slammed shut in the next instant. Rae ignored it, her attention on the man stalking towards her, backing her against the wall.

  “Well, if I’m going to end up with a charge like that, I might as well do something to deserve it.” His voice was soft, but the tone in it, the look in his eyes made her shiver.

  Run, scream. Kick him in the shins. Her instincts all screamed at her to move, do something, but Rae was frozen to the spot, her view of the world blotted out by his broad shoulders. She’d taken him to be lean at first, but up close he was a lot bigger than she’d thought. A shiver went through her, one that had nothing to do with the possible danger she might be in. Instead it was a thrill of awareness.

  “Look here, you can’t do this. Or would you like me to add assault to the charges as well?” Rae’s heart rate tripled as he reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, the leather of his gloves brushing her skin in a sensual caress. A small gasp escaped as her eyes darted to his.

  “I hardly think a little kiss would stand as assault, do you?” His words were a whisper against her lips before he claimed them with his. His first touch was exploratory, the second a long slow tasting of her lips and the third blew her mind.

  Warm and firm, his lips coaxed hers apart, his tongue sweeping in to taste her. She shivered at the touch as he moved closer, so close she could feel the brush of his coat against the front of her tunic.

  She lost all sense of time, heat and need hitting her in the same moment. That she was trying to throw him out a moment ago slid away as he kissed her. Shock held her immobile for a moment but then her lips moved beneath his. Within seconds she was kissing him back, her hands reaching up and her fingers spearing into his short blond hair to hold him to her. She was breathless when he lifted his head. Her lips formed a small pout of disappointment as the kiss ended.

  “Very good at what you do,” he breathed, his pupils dilated and his breathing ragged. Obviously the kiss had affected him as much as it had her. “So who’s this Ray Borne? Your boyfriend, lover or pimp?”

  Rae gasped as the implication of his words hit her like a sledgehammer. He was serious, he thought she was a prostitute!

  “None of those things.” She gritted her teeth and pushed at the broad expanse of his chest. “Get away from me, you bloody oaf!”

  “So who is he? I’d like to have a word with him.” He backed off, amusement in his eyes as he looked her up and down. “Perhaps hire your ‘services.’”

  “The only thing you’ll be getting from me is a knee where it hurts.” She marched past him and yanked the door open so hard the bell on the back rang madly, almost dancing out of its curled bracket. “Now, leave. Or I’ll be calling the police.”

  He grinned, a smile of amusement crossing his face. Rae just wanted to slap it off. Repeatedly. She took a deep breath, reining in temptation. She didn’t need a charge of assault against her. And much as she’d like to, she knew there was no way she could charge him for assault on that kiss. Not when she’d enjoyed it so much herself. She was one sick puppy, probably needed therapy. Lots of it.

  “I thought you needed a name to call them? Tell me where Ray is and I’ll give you my name.” He adjusted the fit of the leather gloves on his hands and speared her with a direct look.

  “You’re looking at ‘him.’ Raelyn Borne. I’d offer my hand, but you’re just leaving Mr…?” She trailed off, her head tilted in curiosity as she waited for him to supply his name.


  “Fyre. Logan Fyre.”

  She felt the blood drain out of her face. This was Fyre? Of Jensen and Fyre? It had to be. There was no way it couldn’t be with her luck.

  “I’d like you to leave, Mr. Fyre. Now.” She lifted her chin to look straight into his eyes. “And please don’t come back. I have nothing to say to you or anyone from your company. Any further contact will result in a charge of harassment.”

  His lips, surprisingly sensual in the very masculine face, quirked as he started for the door. He paused just next to her, looking down into her face, his eyes flicking over her features.

  “You could try, but be careful who and what you threaten… Because if you try to play games with me, Raelyn, you’re going to need a shit-hot lawyer or you’ll get burnt.”

  “Haha. Fyre, burnt. Cute.” She picked up the pun and made fun of it. That was her problem—when backed into a corner she got sassy. “Don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out. I don’t do first aid.”

  Then he was gone, Rae closed the door on his broad shouldered form as quickly as she could, throwing the lock as well for good measure. She leaned back against it with a shudder, her knees weak.

  Thankfully, the absent Mr. St. James was her last appointment of the day, so she could fall apart in peace now. Turning, she watched through the frosted glass as the form of a car left the tiny car park in front of the gatehouse. Even the indistinct form looked expensive and threatening.

  Letters asking her to sell and meetings with her bank manager over the state of her finances were one thing. She could handle those. She had business plans and forecasts. Charles Bennett, her bank manager, wasn’t daft; he could see she had solid projections and a sound plan. She just had to get over this sticky patch and she’d be fine, whatever the Jensen and Fyre people alluded to.

  But seeing these people, one of these people, in person made it all the more personal. More real almost, as if her money worries weren’t real and immediate to begin with. Rae sighed and pushed away from the door. As if she needed more pressure on top of her financial troubles, it now seemed Jensen and Fyre were into harassment.

  Her thought was cut off by the screech of brakes outside and a horrendous bang. Without thinking, she turned on her heel and wrenched the door open. Living near a main road she recognised the sounds of a car accident when she heard one.

  Chapter Two

  Concern lent wings to Rae’s heels as she sprinted over the two space ‘car park’ and round the corner onto the path. Skidding to a halt, she drew in a quick breath. It was worse than she’d feared. The black car—Logan’s car—protruded from the hedge, the side mangled and scraped. A huge dent in the driver’s door made her wince. Nearby a smaller car rolled to a halt, its front end bent and twisted.

  “Oh hell.” Her dark eyes flicked over the carnage. She’d never been squeamish, but she hoped no one had been hurt. Oh God, there were kids in the other car—the tops of the car seats were just visible in the back window. She reached its side in seconds and peered through the window, eyes flicking over the occupants to check for injuries. To her relief they all seemed to be fine. Even the kids, if the furious squeal from the baby seat in the back was any indication. Rae had been around enough of her cousin’s kids to recognise a squeal of fury.

  She motioned to the driver to roll the window down, repeating her motion when he gave her a dazed look.

  “Turn the engine off and put the handbrake on,” she ordered, standing up straighter to assess where the car sat on the road. It was near enough to the curb. It could be parked up here until the emergency services arrived.

  “Is everything alright? Can I do anything to help?” A voice behind Rae got her attention. Another driver had stopped, pulling up a safe distance away and putting his vehicle’s hazard lights on to alert other drivers of the accident. He looked at Rae, waiting for orders. It was the white therapy tunic, her uniform. Had to be. It gave her a medical appearance, and in a situation like this people obeyed medical staff by default. She seized the opportunity.

  “You can.” She adopted a brisk, no nonsense attitude. “Call the emergency services. Tell them there’s been an accident outside the Gatehouse on Ashton Road heading towards Newbolton near…” She rattled off her address and left him by the first car, phone in hand, as she headed over to the second car.

  Logan Fyre’s car.

  She reached it in seconds, barely aware of sprinting over the short distance. The engine had cut out, sort of. A weird mechanical clicking sound emanated from under the hood—a wrong, tortured sound that worried her. She peeked inside. The airbags had either deployed and deflated or not gone off at all because she couldn’t see them.

  “Mr. Fyre, are you alright?” She kept her voice level as she called out, picking her way over the grass. The side windows of the car were out, the shattered glass spread on the ground catching the light like diamonds. Not bulletproof glass then. With his charming personality she’d have thought people would be gunning for him on a regular basis. Her calls gained no answer from the car and when Rae reached the door she saw why.

  “Oh shit.”

  Her eyes widened at the blood. Blood splattered down the front of his shirt, scarlet on white. She took a deep breath. Everything would be fine, he wasn’t dead, couldn’t be dead. She’d only been insulting him a minute or so ago…

  Turned away from her, Logan’s head rested against the back of the seat. Scarlet trails of blood stood out against his skin, paler than a few minutes ago. Her heart lurched in her chest. Sure, she didn’t like the guy, but she wouldn’t have wished this on him. She wouldn’t wish a car accident on anyone, not even her worst enemy.

  Right at this moment Logan Fyre was her worst enemy.

  “Mr. Fyre? Logan?” She kept her voice light, confident. She remembered reading somewhere that the unconscious could still hear. She hoped so.

  “Everything’s going to be fine. You’re going to be okay,” she told him, as much to reassure herself as him. Leaning through the window she turned the key in the ignition, switching the engine off. The strange clicking noise stopped. She breathed a sigh of relief. A stray spark setting off an explosion was the last thing she needed. She shuddered, reminded that the situation could go from bad to worse in a heartbeat.

  He was breathing. The soft rise and fall of his chest reassured her, so she turned her attention to the wound on his head. The purple of a nasty bruise spread its fingers across his forehead and temple, the skin split and oozing blood in sluggish waves. She winced. That had to hurt—no wonder he’d been knocked out.

  “Everything’s going to be fine.” She reached in, even though his eyes were closed, to try and take his hand. Tactile contact was important wasn’t it? So he knew he wasn’t alone. Where the hell was that ambulance? She looked around for the guy on the phone. The phone still at his ear, he talked rapidly, his words lost over the distance. From his hand gestures he was giving details of the accident. Good, that should mean some help would be forthcoming.

  A cough sounded and Logan’s hand tightened around hers. Her head whipped around to see his head move, turning toward her as he blinked. His blue eyes were unfocused and dazed, as though he couldn’t reconcile the view of the hedge in front of him with what he last remembered. As she watched, his eyes focused, sharpening as he looked at her.

  “Don’t do first aid huh? Just moral support? What happened? Are the people in the other car okay? Ahh, shit—” A hiss of pain escaped him as he tried to shift in his seat and sit up. His gaze flicked to hers, something stirring in the depths. Fear. Fear that made her heart slam in her chest.

  “What is it? What’s the matter?”

  “I’m trapped, and I can’t feel my legs.” The fear disappeared under the cool facade even as she watched. “Get someone to call an ambulance.”

  Rae gritted her teeth at the order, snapped in an imperious tone.

  “Already done. We’re not stupid in this neck of the woods, despite what you might think.” She ma
naged to keep her tone calm. Not responding to his arrogant manner in any way, shape or form, even if the temptation to slap him rose again. She needed a medal for this.

  “The people in the other car are okay… Well, apart from possible hearing loss. Apparently the baby didn’t think much of your reckless driving.” She was unable to resist the last dig. Bloody men and their super-cars, no doubt he’d been speeding.

  He chuckled, leaning his head against the seat again, watching her through half-hooded eyes. “Regular angel of mercy, aren’t you? Wonderful bedside manner you have, sweetheart.”

  Rae frowned again. “What do you mean?”

  “Oh nothing, just the fact that you assumed the accident was my fault.”

  She snatched her hand out of his, but didn’t relinquish her position against the side of the car. Sirens wailed in the distance. The ambulance would be here soon and her job would be over. She couldn’t wait; he was easier to get on with unconscious.

  “Wasn’t it? Car like this, you sure you weren’t speeding?” Her chin lifted, her eyes alight with challenge.

  He laughed again, a laugh which turned into a cough. He winced, his hand coming up to hold his ribcage. Rae watched in concern, her hand on his shoulder until the spasms subsided. He must be more injured than she’d realised. Horror stories of people hitting their chests on the steering wheel in accidents came to mind. People who seemed fine as they bled to death inside.

  After what seemed like an age to Rae he opened his eyes, their blue clouding again as he spoke. “They hit me in the side, Ms. Borne… Not me… That was speeding.” His voice trailed off at the end of the sentence, his eyes closing as his head dropped back again.

  Guilt slammed into Rae as she remembered her view of the car as she’d approached. He was right. The other car had hit him. His door was all smashed in, traces of red paint scarring the side. They must have hit him at high speed to cause this amount of damage.