Firebreak (Jackson's Hollow #2)

Chapter 7

"You want me to what?" Jo asked, staring at Diego. An assortment of items lay around the floor now in various states of existence–piles of ashes, slightly charred, warped, and very much still smoking. The last item, probably the most challenging so far, had been a baby pool of water–the result of which was now a blob of wet plastic and a room full of scalding steam that they'd had to rapidly vent away before it could burn Jo.

She was still very much pressed against the wall farthest away from that pool, and very much disliking their newest grand idea.

The swarthy man serving as the voice of her torment looked strangely unperturbed in the face of his potential barbecuing.

"Direct the flames around me so they don't burn me." Diego gestured at the potted tree behind him he wanted her to burn instead, then glanced at the observation window with a look that very much said he didn't understand why he had to repeat himself again.

Well, maybe if he tried saying it a different way, Jo would understand why he had a death wish.

"My flames are flames," Jo said, shaking her head. "They burn. I can't make lukewarm flames. And I can't make them move in unnatural patterns." Well, they didn't burn her. But who knew the reason for that, because so far they burned everyone else.

"I have telekinesis. Worst case scenario, I'll move them out of the way myself."

"You're actually okay with experimenting with your life like that?" Jo asked, crossing her arms as she dared him to lie.

He raised an eyebrow, but that was the only sign of emotion from him. Jo had no idea how to interpret that in this situation. "It's my job."

Jo snorted. That was a BS line if she'd ever heard one, but to be fair, she doubted he'd reveal the truth with the government overlords watching.

"Fine. Just remember your charred body isn't on my hands," Jo said with a shrug. Easier said than done, but he didn't have to know that. She moved as far away from him as she could–hopefully that would give him enough time to react and push the fire away. She sighed and rubbed her temples, trying to focus–it was important she do her best to not kill this guy. But all that really seemed to grab her attention was the constant dull ache in her heart–the one that wanted to be home, curled up on the couch in Ryker's arms in front of the fire.

Maybe they'd be arguing about pizza, or planning the next fix-it project in her house, or she'd be begging him not to kill Blake when they started the second semester of college. She could see it already.

"Blake is doing what? No, Jo, no. I can't. Tell him to switch majors." He'd probably try kissing her neck or her mark to convince her to do what he wanted. He'd learned that trick way too fast. But she'd hold her ground.

"You tell him, you're the one he's texting."

"He knows you're the one replying."

"And he knows I'd never turn him down."

"Why are you nicer to him than me? I'm your mate. You should be on my side!" And Jo would laugh and tease him for taking second place to Blake. But they'd both know that was completely untrue, because Jo was head over heels, completely in...

Jo's throat suddenly felt like it was closing, and she swallowed hard to force back the sob that threatened to break through.

No, she couldn't go there right now.

"Everything okay over there?" Diego's voice broke through, yanking her back into her harsh present reality.

"Yup." Jo took a deep breath. "Fine."