Firestorm by Rachel Caine

fumbled it out of my purse and flipped it open. “Yeah?” I sounded as drugged and disoriented as I felt.
    â€œYou stupid slag .” I knew that rich tenor voice, sharpened now with anger. “You called the police on me.”
    I flopped back into the comfort of the pillow and threw an arm over my eyes. “Yes, Eamon, I called the police on you. You threatened my life, tried to kill me, and abducted my sister—”
    â€œI saved your bloody life!” He sounded livid. I could almost see the veins pulsing in his neck. “I could’ve left you out in that hurricane to die, you know. I put myself out for you!”
    â€œYeah, you’re a prince—Please tell me you’re not, by the way. I mean, my opinion of British royalty isn’t that high, but—”
    â€œShut it,” he snarled. “Alerting the local constabulary isn’t going to get your sister back.”
    â€œCan make your life damn inconvenient, though, I’ll bet.”
    Silence. I could hear him breathing. I could picture him standing there, phone gripped in those long pianist’s fingers. The inner Eamon didn’t match the sensitive hands, though he could pretend with the best of them. Deep down, he wasn’t elegant, and he wasn’t cultured. He was a total bastard, and the fact that my sister had been enthralled with him—and might still be, for all I knew—made me feel more than a little nauseated.
    â€œLook,” I said. “I know that you expect me to be your costar in this little drama you’re playing, but I’m busy. Get to the point, Eamon. You going to kill me? Come on and get in line. I haven’t got time to screw around with you.”
    Silence, for a long few beats, and then, “Is there a problem?” he asked. Which wasn’t what I’d expected.
    â€œWhy do you care?”
    â€œBecause—” He paused for several long beats. “Because what I want from you is a Djinn. If there’s anything happening that affects that goal, I need to know.”
    â€œYou have no idea how much I wish I’d given you one back home, and gotten you the hell out of our lives,” I said. I remembered the bloodstains in the conference room. Not that I wished dismemberment on anyone, but with Eamon my moral high ground was somewhere about the elevation of a sand dune, and eroding fast. “The situation has changed. I can’t get my hands on a Djinn anymore. No one can.”
    â€œWon’t, you mean.”
    â€œI don’t have time to explain it to you, but even if I gave you a Djinn bottle, it wouldn’t do you any good. The—the master agreement’s been broken. They don’t obey us anymore. And they damn sure wouldn’t obey you.”
    â€œI see,” he said slowly. “That’s…very unfortunate. For your sister, at any rate.”
    â€œWhere’s Sarah? If you’ve hurt her—”
    â€œDon’t be ridiculous. Why would I hurt lovely Sarah?” That sly hint of amusement was back in his voice. “Much more rewarding to play along with her fantasies. You’d be amazed what kind of thing that woman gets up to in the privacy of her—”
    â€œShut up !” I shouted it, heard my heart thudding in my ears, and forced myself to relax. He liked sticking in the knife. It was part of his game. No matter what he said, I’d seen the way he’d touched her, and his hands didn’t lie about that, at least. He was gentle with her. Gentler than he had any reason to be. It was even possible he really liked her, as much as he liked anyone. “Look, just let her go. There’s no reason to keep her. I already told you, I can’t give you a Djinn. Please. Just—let her go.”
    â€œAre you completely sure you can’t give me what I want? Because if you are , there’s no reason for me not to put a bullet in the head of your beautiful sister, pose her in