Fired Up

chill and damp. He went toward the Sunshine, drawn by the aura of warmth and light.
    Like a stupid moth to a flame, he thought.

4
    THIS WAS NOT GOING WELL, JACK MUSED. CHLOE HARPER HAD concluded that he was delusional. He could see it in her eyes. He’d been called a variety of names, including ruthless, demanding and driven—Shannon had come up with all three descriptors just before she filed for divorce—but he was pretty sure that until now no one had considered him full-on crazy. Of course, until today he hadn’t told anyone that he was becoming a psychic monster, either.
    Shouldn’t have tried to explain that I was Old Nick’s descendant. Why had he done that? He hadn’t intended to mention his ancestral connection to the lamp. That had been uncharacteristically stupid.
    Shouldn’t have told her to name her price, either. That had been a serious mistake. She might well be the shady operator that the J&J files indicated but simple, straightforward greed was not her chief weakness. Her vulnerable spot lay in another direction altogether. He knew that for certain, because his talent had picked up the vibes two minutes after walking into her office.
    Chloe Harper was a natural-born rescuer. She probably took on all sorts of deadbeat clients who never paid their bills. She was the type who fell for a good sob story. The tattooed receptionist had the old-beyond-her-years eyes of a young woman who had spent a lot of time living on the streets. The rangy mongrel sprawled in the corner had probably come from a shelter or the nearest alley.
    The rescuer thing wasn’t what he had expected, but he could work with it. He felt a small twinge of guilt because he was preparing to manipulate her, but he knew he’d get over it. Besides, it wasn’t like he was here under false pretenses. He really did need rescuing. All he had to do was convince her of the truth, and he would regain control of the situation. He’d have her in the palm of his hand.
    “I’ve got nowhere else to turn,” he said quietly. “You’re my only hope.”
    “Really?”
    Looking spectacularly unconvinced, she got up and walked around to the front of her desk. A trickle of unease sparked across his senses. Her change of position in the room had been very casual, maybe a little too smooth. He wondered if she was getting ready to sic the dog on him while she made a run for the door. Maybe he was scaring her. Not that she looked frightened, he thought. If anything, she appeared interested, maybe curious. Intrigued.
    Interested, curious and intrigued didn’t begin to describe his reaction to her. Until he had walked into her office all he had known about her was what he’d lifted from the J&J files. Her entire family had an extensive and wide-ranging history with Arcane, very little of it reputable. He’d figured that was a plus for him. According to the files, she was ideal for his purposes, a strong dreamlight reader who had connections in the gray world of the underground collectors’ market. And she lived in Seattle. Talk about convenient. The other dreamlight talents he’d located on the West Coast were down in California.
    Chloe was perfect.
    What he hadn’t anticipated was the heat lightning of sexual awareness that had crackled through him when he saw her sitting there, prim and composed, behind her desk. It was as if some elemental force deep inside him was stirring. That was not good. What with the blackouts, the nightmares, the hallucinations and the very real possibility that he might have to go on the run for the rest of his weird life, he had enough to deal with. He definitely should not be thinking about sleeping with the private investigator he was trying to hire.
    He sure as hell shouldn’t be wasting time trying to figure out what it was that attracted him to her, either. On the surface she looked like a stern, uptight school mistress. Not his type at all. Sharp, insightful intelligence animated vivid blue-green eyes and a face that otherwise would not have stood out in a crowd. Her sunset red hair was pulled back into a tight twist at the nape of her neck.
    She was dressed in a businesslike black pantsuit with a white silk shell and a pair of black, high-heeled boots. Her jewelry was limited to a couple of small gold studs in her ears and a gold wristwatch with a black leather band. He estimated her to be in her early thirties, but there was no sign of a wedding band.
    What had kicked him in the gut when he came through