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“Great, so now he’s going all ‘I’m the king of the world’ on us?” I said, tugging on the t-shirt and tying it in a knot at my waist to help keep it on.
Riker didn’t laugh. Instead, he cast one of those odd looks my way, his brow furrowed like he was trying to solve a puzzle where the pieces were my face. “You think this is funny?”
“Riker, if I don’t find some humor in this, I’ll end up bonkers,” I retorted, meeting his gaze with a challenge.
“We’re playing with fire here, literally. Zayn’s not above burning down anyone who gets in his path.”
“Ah, but he forgets—we’re the ones with the water balloons.” I flashed him a grin, though the heat of the moment—pun intended—was starting to seep back into my bones, a reminder of just how close we’d come to being extra crispy.
“Water balloons filled with holy water and salt, maybe,” Riker corrected, but there was a glint of something in his eye that wasn’t entirely professional concern. Was it amusement? Disbelief? Attraction? It was hard to tell with Mr. Stoic-and-Badass.
“Right, because a regular water balloon would just be ridiculous,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“Let’s just hope Zayn doesn’t have any more tricks up his sleeve,” Riker said, finishing off his look with a leather jacket that screamed ‘badass with a side of danger’.
“Or in his lamp,” I added, because why pass up the chance for a good genie joke?
He shook his head, but I caught the hint of a smile before he turned serious again. “Stay sharp, Tessa. We can’t afford any slip-ups.”
“Story of my life,” I muttered under my breath, slipping into my tennis shoes and ready for whatever came next.
A bead of sweat traced a path down my spine, and I fanned my face with the edge of my trashed shirt—an action that did little to quell the lingering heat. “Is it just me, or is it getting hot in here?” I asked, hoping I sounded more casual than I felt. The snap-crackle-pop of the fire might have been out, but the room still sizzled with an unseen energy.
“Could be the aftereffects of the fire,” Riker suggested, his brow furrowing as he scanned the room for any remaining embers that might’ve escaped our notice.
“Or maybe I’m just excited about the thrill of the chase.” I grinned, trying to shake off the prickly feeling of heat that seemed to cling to my skin. “That has to be it, right?”
Riker’s gaze lingered on me a second too long, and I wondered if he could see through my bravado. Could he sense the strange warmth that had taken up residence beneath my skin ever since Cairo had touched me in tunnel?
“Speaking of which,” I said quickly, eager to steer us back to safer ground, “we really do need to talk next steps in hunting down King Zayn. That pyromaniac djinni isn’t going to trap himself.”
My phone’s ringtone blared. I fumbled for my phone while Riker raised an eyebrow, the universal signal for ‘this better be good’. “Helen,” I muttered, swiping to answer. “Talk to me.”
“Darling, you wouldn’t believe the morning I’ve had,” Helen’s voice trilled through the speaker, each word wrapped in drama. Her tone was a mix of exasperation and too much caffeine. I pictured her, hairdo wobbling as she paced in six-inch heels.
“Try me,” I said, propping the phone between my ear and shoulder as I searched for my second shoe. “I’ve been playing fire brigade.”
“Sweetie, it’s Cairo.” There was a rustle—probably Helen gesticulating with that bullwhip of hers. “He’s pulled a Houdini on us.”
“Disappeared? When?” My heart kicked up a notch, not just from the heat lingering under my skin but from concern. Cairo wasn’t one to run without a plan.
“Sometime after midnight, the dear boy,” Helen sighed theatrically. “And he kept muttering about choices. It was all very cryptic. Choices, choices, choices—like he’s Hamlet deciding on a wardrobe change.”
“Choices? What kind of choices?” I pressed, snapping the phone back into my hand as I found the rogue shoe hiding under Riker’s couch.
“Who knows with djinn? Maybe choosing between cabernet or merlot, or perhaps something less wine-related and more... life-altering.” Helen’s voice dropped in pitch, a feather boa of concern brushing against her usual flamboyance.
“Thanks,” I said, trying to keep the worry out of my voice. “Keep your eyes peeled, and your whip ready.”
“Always, darling. Toodle-oo!” And with that, she hung up, leaving me staring at my phone as if it might sprout wings and fly away.
“Trouble?” Riker asked, catching my look.
“Isn’t it always?” I replied, tucking the phone into my back pocket. “Cairo’s gone missing, and apparently, he’s got some big decisions on his plate.”
“Great,” Riker huffed, running a hand through his hair. “Because we needed more complications.”
A fluttering sensation of heat crept up my neck, a telltale sign of my irritation. Cairo had decided to go all lone wolf on us. Or should I say, lone genie? Either way, he’d vanished into the smoky ether without so much as a cryptic postcard.
