As quickly as possible, I searched the apartment and located a vinyl bag. Everything of mine, I tossed inside. Thankfully, Rome had brought several pieces of my clothing and many of my toiletries. Of course he hadn’t grabbed my ATM card, but the wad of money I found under the mattress made up for that. I stuffed the bills into my pocket.

Ready to face the door again, I stalked to it, glaring. How was I going to summon fire without creating an inferno? Maybe if I allowed myself a little anger. Only a little. Hopefully, the lock would burn and nothing else.

Please let nothing else burn.

Drawing in a deep, steadying breath, I dropped the bag at my feet. I popped the bones in my neck, preparing to work up a good (but tiny!) steam. To do that, I needed to think about things that angered me, but didn’t infuriate me.

Okay. So. I hated when people cut in line. I also hated rude customers and menial jobs. Oh, that’s good, I thought, giving myself a mental pat on the back as a kernel of anger sparked. However, the mental pat quickly doused the anger, flooding me with satisfaction.

Concentrate! What else did I loathe? I know! I know! I hated being chased by bad guys. I hated the fact that people wanted to kill me. I hated that I’d been given an experimental secret formula without my consent. Hated, hated, hated that I was now unemployed, broke, and that my dad’s rent would soon be due.

My breathing became choppy as my anger intensified. My fists clenched tightly at my sides. I hated that Rome was so mouthwateringly sexy. Hated that he tasted so good. Hated that I already craved another sampling of him. And what the hell had he meant, blurting out that he had a daughter? A daughter, for Christ’s sake. He hadn’t been lying about that. His eyes had been filled with stark, raw emotion. Desperate need and fear. Did that mean Rome also had a wife?

Oh, the bastard! He did. He had a wifey-poo at home. And he’d kissed me as if he couldn’t live another moment without cleaning my tonsils. He’d touched my face and made me-

A stream of fire shot from my eyes and slammed into the front door. The force of it knocked me backward. As I fell, fire continued to spew from me and flames erupted everywhere I looked, licking a deadly, orange-gold path from one corner to another. Gasping, I squeezed my eyes tightly closed, cutting off the fire, blanking my mind.

But no sooner did I close my eyes than I felt my fingers heat. Flames began to fly from them. Dear Lord. I’d opened a fiery floodgate that didn’t want to close. I felt its singe, its sizzle. The scents of ash and burning carpet, wood and plaster filled my nose.

My heart drummed erratically. Calm down, Belle Jamison. Right now! Please calm down. If I didn’t, I would burn the entire building to the ground. People might die. Because of me. Me. Deep breath in, deep breath out. The heat continued to wrap around me, and my body responded in kind, enjoying it and producing more.

“I can control the fire,” I said, holding out my hands and trying to draw the inferno back into myself. Let this work, let this work, let this work. “I can control the fire. I have power over the elements. They must obey me.”

I opened my eyes, catching a glimpse of utter chaos before another round of flames burst free. I squeezed my eyelids shut again as panic washed through me. Dear God, what should I do? How did I stop this? Think good, happy thoughts. Nothing that miffed me even slightly.

Okay. What made me happy? Sherridan had a date with the twins. My dad was alive. Fifty-percent-off sales. Chocolate chip cookies-they increased my waistline, but I didn’t want to go there. The thought of never having to serve coffee to snobs made me ecstatic.

With each new thought, my anger and panic receded and I felt my hands cool. Slowly I cracked open my eyes. A deep exhale became a heavy sigh of relief. An inferno might rage around me, but at least no more flames leapt from my eyes or hands.

I couldn’t let the neighbors be hurt by this, though. I raced to the kitchen and was relieved to see the extinguisher Rome had used was next to the stove. Why hadn’t I kept it near me? Stupid. As I sprinted back to the door, I sprayed everything in my path. White mist soon thickened the air, and the flames died to a gentle sizzle.

I dropped the now-empty canister, my arms falling shakily to my sides as I looked around, assessing the damage. The couch, TV, coffee table and my bag were ruined. The shag carpet was ruined, too, but that was a cause for celebration.

The front door had burned completely away-except for the freaking lock, which clung to the only beam left standing-leaving a gaping hole that led straight into the hallway. Thick smoke billowed and wafted out. An alarm erupted in the hall, screeching with enough volume to make me cringe.

Within seconds, the neighbors were pouring from their apartments. If one of these people knew Rome, they might call him and tell him what I’d done. He could be on his way back right now. And let’s not even discuss the fact that I’d just announced my presence to the bad guys who might not have known where I was.

“What did you do?” an elderly woman demanded, crossing her arms over her ample chest. She wore a cherry-red robe and had blue rollers in her hair. “Does Raymond know you’re in his apartment?”

Raymond? Who the hell was Raymond? Maybe the man Rome had stolen the apartment from-if so, sorry, Raymond!-or maybe it was a fake name Rome liked to use. Either way, I wasn’t sticking around to find out.

“Turn off that goddamn alarm,” someone else shouted.

“Did someone call the super? He’s going to be POed.”

“No way you’ll get your deposit back now.”

At least the apartment was so old it didn’t have a built-in sprinkler system. Every one of us would have been drenched. “Tell the super I’m sorry,” I said, and shoved past the crowd of onlookers.

“Hey, you can’t leave,” the woman in rollers screeched, momentarily drowning the sound of the alarm. “You almost burned us all. Get back here.”

I found the door to the stairwell and slipped inside. Adrenaline poured through me, filling me as if I were drinking it. Urging me onward. The sound of voices and the wail of the alarm faded as I pounded down the steps to the ground floor. Strands of hair slapped at my face, momentarily blinding me. I kept moving and finally made it outside. Morning sunlight streamed from the bright Georgia sky, hot and oppressive. Humidity instantly beaded on my skin; gnats buzzed past me.

People roamed the sidewalks, unaware and uncaring of my turmoil. Cars meandered along the streets. Exhaust wafted to my nose, tickling my throat, and I coughed. The cough continued as I stood in place, trying to figure out which way to go.

I guess I should have thought this through a little more. I didn’t know where I was, where I should go, and had no real plan. I didn’t recognize the area, only knew it seemed so open. Glancing left and right, I willed myself to calm. I’d be okay. I’d be okay. I’d be okay. No one looked suspicious.

Coughing, I turned right and walked. Just walked, acting as breezy as I could. Hopefully I could lose myself in the crowds until I oriented myself and-Shit! Rome raced around the far corner of a building, his eyes narrowed on me as if he’d expected to see me. His features blazed with fury.

Despite the heat, my blood chilled. And chilled. And chilled as fear bombarded me. I spun and leapt into a desperate run. Buildings whizzed by me, glazing with ice as I passed. People sidled out of my way, and those that didn’t froze in place. Literally. I wished I could stop it, but couldn’t make the panic go away.

I hadn’t come this far to be captured by Rome. Again. If, in the near future, I decided to work with him and trust him, it would be on my terms. On my time. I would not be forced. I would not be coerced or manipulated.