Lincoln (Ember Quest Book 3) Read online

  “You should get to know a person before you pass judgment.” Lincoln blocked the punch.

  She lunged forward and caught Lincoln in the ribs before dancing away. “I already know enough about you.”

  “We’re only getting started.” Lincoln grinned at her, before aiming a kick at her head, which she knocked away.

  Anastasia got in a kick to Lincoln’s stomach, before he grabbed her foot and spun her in the air. She landed face-first on the ground. She flipped up before he could touch her and kicked backwards. Her foot connected with his jaw.

  She grinned as Lincoln grunted. As she turned to face him, he barreled into her and slammed her to the ground.

  Locking her feet on either side of his hips, she rolled him over until she was on top. His hands locked around her shoulders, but instead of throwing her off, he held on tight and yanked her to him, giving her a hard kiss on the lips.

  The crowd roared its approval and threw empty drink cans at them.

  Anastasia growled and dug her nails into Lincoln’s hands until he let go. “That is not playing fair.” She shot to her feet and backed away, still able to feel Lincoln’s hot lips on hers and taste his sweat. Her tongue traced across her lips before she could stop herself.

  “We’re not supposed to play fair.” Lincoln shot out a couple of punches that Anastasia ducked. “Don’t go holding out on me. The crowd wants a good show.”

  “Fireball! Fireball! Fireball!” The crowd chanted louder and louder.

  A trickle of sweat slid down her back. She’d been watching the fights with Lincoln for almost a month. Fire breathing was a popular trait. The crowd loved nothing more than a smoking end to a fighter. She was juiced up on fire bite, but wasn’t ready to breathe fire just yet.

  She swung a roundhouse kick at Lincoln. He parried it, before lunging and grabbing her in a headlock, making sure his mouth was close to her ear. “I don’t mind if you use your flames on me.”

  Anastasia struggled against his muscles, feeling them tighten and clench around her. His slick skin slid over hers and her pulse raced. “I’ll burn you.”

  “Give the audience what they want,” muttered Lincoln. “I heal. We can get this over with and go find the boss.”

  Anastasia shoved him away and danced around the ring. She was always hesitant about revealing her ability in front of humans. The State had convinced everybody dragons were nothing more than myth and hadn’t once ruled this planet. Their creepy, elusive leader, Emperor Endrir, would broadcast messages of his commitment to prosperity and wealth for all who followed him. What a pile of crap.

  For over a year, she’d had it drummed into her to keep her ability concealed. If you didn’t, the State would find you and kill you. One thing they were intent on doing was making sure dragons never took control again.

  Lincoln tilted his chin up, a gesture encouraging her to engage him. Obliging, she swept Lincoln off his feet and onto his back. Anastasia landed an elbow into his sternum, making his breath shoot out of him. She straddled him and lifted her fist.

  Grabbing her ass, Lincoln ground his hips into hers. Honor felt a hardness beneath her. It sent a flood of heat through her belly. She growled into his face, a mixture of anger and lust. Smoke and fire bites! This man was too much.

  Lincoln grinned and blew her a kiss.

  Anastasia rolled off him and onto her feet, swiping the sweat out of her eyes. She crouched into a fighting stance. She inhaled a deep lungful of air, feeling her chest grow hot as the chemical reaction inside her ignited. The flame would be spectacular since she’d chewed on a fire bite—a stone used by her kind to create enormous streams of flame. It would thrill the crowd, and singe Lincoln’s eyebrows off.

  The air around her felt too hot. Her vision glazed for a second, as her primal side took over and she focused on her target. She spat out a spray of fire, causing the crowd to rear backwards and then cheer. Several people’s clothes caught alight. Lincoln ran just ahead of the flames, looking to make a game of the attack, as he jumped over the orange and blue glow of her fire.

  “That’s what we call a performance,” yelled the announcer. “Anybody want to change their bets? Looks like our Devil Killer might have met his match with little Taser. She shoots to kill.”

  A few people shifted in the crowd, but most were entranced by the flames that still flowed out of Anastasia’s mouth. She pulled them back, feeling the chemical burn inside her chest. Being only part dragon meant every time she used her abilities, it took a toll on her body. She would ache for days after this, but it needed to happen. And she always recovered.

  She shoved away the thoughts of discomfort, and spat one final fireball at Lincoln. As planned, it slammed into his left shoulder and sent him to the ground.

  The crowd roared again and surged forward, intent on seeing the damage the fire had inflicted.

  Lincoln was flat on his back, his eyes closed and a mask of pain on his face. His shoulder was blackened and smoke drifted from the damaged flesh.

  Anastasia’s steps faltered. Had she hit him too hard? She extended a hand toward him.

  Lincoln grabbed her hand using his undamaged arm, slammed his weight onto her shoulders and slid behind her. He gripped her head in his arms, straining her neck muscles. “Should I remove this pretty head?” he yelled to the crowd.

  The crowd was silent for a second, shock rippling through them at the sudden change in fortune. Then the chant began. “Rip it off! Rip it off! Rip it off!”

  Anastasia snarled at all the bright, excited faces and voices calling for her death. It was so easy for them, throwing around their credit and watching people’s lives ruined for their entertainment. When she got the chance, she’d bring this club to its knees. Set free the fighters forced to perform to pay off debts they owed the club owner.

  “What do you think?” Lincoln’s voice was hot and urgent against her ear, sending a spike of desire down her spine. “Should I remove your head?”

  “I’d like to see you try.”

  “Say you submit. I’ll let you go.”

  “Go to hell.” She twisted in his arms, but couldn’t free herself from the hot, hard muscle pressed against her. And a tiny, treacherous part of her didn’t want to move.

  “We’re already there.” He tightened his grip. “Submit. And we can get on with this.”

  Anastasia ground her teeth so hard her jaw ached. As much as she hated to give up, they were fighting for something bigger than her pride. Slowly, she raised an arm. “I submit.”

  The crowd groaned. More beer cans hammered down on them.

  The announcer stepped forward and grabbed hold of Lincoln’s hand, tugging him away from Anastasia. “Our lady is on her knees. Devil Killer has once again been victorious.” He dragged Lincoln around the ring, showing him off to the crowd.

  Anastasia got to her feet, rubbing the soreness in her neck as she scowled at Lincoln.

  The announcer returned Lincoln to her side. “Good show. Credits will be in the backroom when you’re ready.”

  “Thanks,” said Lincoln.

  “And the boss wants a word before you go. He likes what he’s seen tonight.”

  The anger and frustration Anastasia felt vanished. This was what they’d been waiting for.

  Chapter 2

  The burn on Lincoln’s shoulder stung and throbbed, along with his heartbeat. It wasn’t a serious burn. He’d have nothing more than a faint scar and another tale to tell over a few beers. A story about how the woman of his dreams had marked him for life.

  He grinned at the thought, and looked at Anastasia who walked beside him through the fight club. Her expression was blank as she dragged her long, red hair off her face.

  “That was a good fight.”

  “Thought I was supposed to win.”

  “Change of plans,” said Lincoln. “The fireball put me down, but I didn’t want to disappoint my growing fan base.”

  Anastasia snorted and a stream of smoke filtered out of her nose. It was
the sexiest thing Lincoln had seen in a long time. He didn’t think he’d ever tire of Anastasia and her incredible abilities.

  He grabbed two beers from the bar at the back of the club and offered one to Anastasia, but she shook her head and grimaced.

  “Alcohol and fire are never a good mixture. Need time to cool down.”

  Lincoln kept both beers. “More for me.”

  “Need your beer goggles for when you spend the night with Orchid?”

  He raised his eyebrows. “I didn’t know you cared.”

  “I don’t.”

  “So how do you know the name of the woman who was coming on to me before we started the fight?”

  “She’s the top bitch in here. Pays to know your enemy.”

  “She’s got something to do with Clive?”

  “She’s his honey.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Women like to gossip.” Anastasia shot him a dark look, as if daring him to challenge her. “I like to listen in.”

  “Then I guess I’d better keep my hands off Orchid,” said Lincoln. “Don’t want to piss off Clive.”

  “Not if we’re going to be working for him.”

  “Speaking of which, looks like the muscle is coming for us.” Lincoln gestured with his head, as a solid-looking guy dressed in a black suit strode toward them.

  The man stopped next to them. “Boss wants a word.”

  Lincoln nodded and followed the muscle through the crowd with Anastasia. They walked through a doorway at the back of the club, away from the throbbing, crazed crowd who were yelling for the next fight.

  The guy led them into a bright corridor and knocked at the first door he came to.

  “Come in.” The voice on the other side of the door was deep and gravelly.

  The muscle opened the door and stood to one side, his hands clasped in front of him.

  Lincoln resisted the urge to pull Anastasia behind him, keep her safe. But it wouldn’t look good if they appeared too cozy after they’d just tried to kill each other.

  Clive Sabbath, the club boss, looked up from behind a desk. His pale-blond crewcut glinted in the overhead light, matching his pale eyebrows. Tattoos covered his skin, thick black and green swirls, and he wore a silver chain around his neck. He gestured with a scarred hand to the seats on the other side of the desk. “Make yourselves at home. After your performances this evening, you both deserve a break.”

  “All in a night’s work.” Lincoln slouched into a seat. Anastasia sat next to him, perching on the edge and wrapping her fingers around her knees.

  “Guess it must be.” Clive’s pale gaze ran over Lincoln. “That burn must sting like a bitch.”

  “I’ve had worse.”

  Clive flashed a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “And how about you?” He turned his attention to Anastasia. “Your fire mod is first class.”

  “I can look after myself,” said Anastasia.

  “So I witnessed,” said Clive. “I rarely have time to watch the fights, but knew the two of you had something special.”

  “I’m all about the special.” Lincoln smirked and drained the can of beer he held.

  “Imagine you are, with a face like that.” Clive’s eyes narrowed as he looked at Lincoln. “You work for a particular crew?”

  “For myself.”

  “Looking for a regular gig?”

  “Not so much in the fighting ring,” said Lincoln. “I value this face too much.”

  “You pretty boys are always the same.” Clive leered and sat back in his seat, linking his fingers behind his head and stretching his arms. “A broken nose would suit you.”

  “Happy to try out in the ring, if you want to make good on that,” said Lincoln.

  Clive chuckled humorlessly. “Another time. You two know each other?”

  “Through the fight scene,” said Lincoln. “Met a couple of times in the ring.”

  Clive grinned. “I’ve got vacancies on my team, if you’re interested. Always need switched-on crew who aren’t put off by a little violence.”

  “Doing what?” asked Anastasia.

  “My crew would have a lot of ideas about what to do with you,” said Clive, his gaze turning feral.

  Lincoln forced himself to smirk and relax, despite wanting to jump across the desk and slam his fist into Clive’s face.

  Anastasia stood, her black eyes flaring red. “I’m not into that.”

  Clive raised his hands. “No harm in asking. But that won’t happen. Not if you’re a part of my team. People respect each other here.”

  Anastasia slowly sat down. “I can live with that.”

  “If you’re interested, I can give you regular work. And plenty of credit.”

  “I’m interested,” said Lincoln. “Not sure she’s up to much, though.”

  Anastasia shot him a glare. “I’m in. What’s the work?”

  Clive’s grin widened. “Having the two of you on the team will make things lively. Looks like you’ve got scores to settle. Might have to get you back in the ring to fight it out.”

  “It’s best if the girl doesn’t join us.” Lincoln knew he was going against Heath’s orders by saying the words, but he didn’t want Anastasia to be a part of this. This place oozed corruption and danger. And she’d seen enough of that.

  Anastasia jabbed his burn with a finger. “What’s wrong with you? Afraid a girl will best you?”

  Lincoln hissed and grabbed his arm. “This isn’t the place for you.”

  “You saw for yourself that I’m no ordinary girl,” said Anastasia, her scowl growing. “I’m a full-grown, hot-blooded woman. And you got lucky in the ring. Try me again. I’ll take you down for good.”

  “Now that’s fighting talk,” said Clive, slapping a hand on the desk. “I like your style, Taser. You’re on the team. Both of you are.”

  Lincoln glowered at Anastasia. He’d have to watch her back once they took on this gig. And she’d hate him for doing that. “I could do with regular work. Not always much out there for someone with a record.”

  “Where did you get your fighting skills?” asked Clive. “When you were inside?”

  “Spent a few years in the Marines,” said Lincoln. “Got booted out for screwing the General’s daughter.”

  Clive roared with laughter. “Why am I not surprised to hear that? At least you can put your skills to good use here.”

  “What do you do here?” asked Anastasia.

  “This and that,” said Clive. “Mainly pickups and drop-offs. Or check out sites we’re interested in. You won’t need your fists often, a threat or two is usually enough to keep people in line.”

  “Sounds easy,” said Anastasia.

  “Keep on the right side of me, and it always is,” said Clive.

  The door behind them opened. Orchid strolled through, slowing as she spotted Lincoln and Anastasia. She gave Lincoln a bright smile, which disappeared when her gaze ran over Anastasia. “Didn’t realize you had company.”

  “Our newest recruits.” Clive beckoned Orchid over and she walked around the desk and sat on his lap, curling one arm around his neck. “Make sure you’re nice to them.”

  “I’m always nice.” Orchid kissed Clive’s cheek, her gaze lingering on Lincoln. “So long as they’re nice to me.”

  “You think they’re a good fit for us?”

  Orchid’s gaze narrowed as she stared at Anastasia. “They’ll do.”

  Clive’s hand moved inside Orchid’s catsuit, as he fondled her breasts. “Me, too.”

  “Anything you want us to do tonight?” Lincoln shifted in his seat and shot a glance at Anastasia.

  “Take the night off,” said Clive. “Get to know the place. Meet a few of the team. And leave your contact details with Pete.” He gestured to the guy standing by the open door. “I’ll be in touch when I have a job for you.”

  Lincoln stood. “Have a fun evening.”

  Clive laughed, his face already disappearing into Orchid’s chest. “I intend to.
”

  Lincoln grimaced as he slid out the door, Anastasia by his side. He passed his comms number to Pete before they headed back to the club. Another fight was already underway. The crowd was pressed around the action, so the bar area was quiet.

  “As much as I want to get out of here, we’d better have a drink and make nice with the rest of the thugs,” said Lincoln.

  “Agreed,” said Anastasia. “And I need a drink after seeing Clive and Orchid’s little demonstration. Might take the edge off my churning stomach.”

  “Poor woman,” said Lincoln, as he led Anastasia to the bar. “She could have enjoyed herself with me, but instead, has to put up with Clive.”

  “Not sure which one’s worse,” muttered Anastasia, as she hopped onto a bar stool.

  The barman strode over, his bare forearms covered in faded tattoos. “Nice to see you haven’t killed each other.”

  “We’re working on it,” said Anastasia.

  “Actually, we’re thinking about becoming friends.” Lincoln slung an arm around her shoulders, but she shrugged him off.

  “In another lifetime,” Anastasia ground out.

  The barman smiled. “I’m Theo. Happy to be at your service. What will it be?”

  “I’ll take a beer,” said Lincoln.

  “Water. Plenty of ice.”

  “The lady doesn’t drink?” Theo got to work on the order.

  “The lady breathes fire,” said Anastasia.

  Theo grinned, showing a row of gold-capped teeth. “Impressive trick. When were you modified?”

  “Couple of years ago.” Anastasia shrugged and looked around the bar.

  “Must play havoc with your insides,” said Theo. “Saw a guy who boiled himself from the inside when his mod went wrong.”

  “It can make me warm.”

  Theo continued as if Anastasia hadn’t spoken. “And I watched a fight once, when a modified fighter got punched in the stomach. The chemical sac he’d had fitted ruptured. Burned to death from the inside out as chemicals ate through his organs. Freakiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  Anastasia grimaced. “That won’t happen with me.”

  “You must have paid a lot for your mod.” Theo placed a tall glass of water in front of Anastasia. “You ever want to breathe fire over me, gorgeous, just say the word. All the free ice and water you can handle.”