“Okay,” Tommy said. He put the habanero in his mouth and chewed.
Fire spread across his tongue, up to his nose and down his throat. The pain filled his head, burning his nostrils, and he wanted to run to the sink and guzzle ten gallons of water. He didn't let her see any of this, though. He held it in and smiled back, though he was pretty sure his face was a scalding shade of crimson. If not purple.
“Very impressive,” Esmeralda said. “I almost believe you aren't in agony right now.”
“It's just a pepper.”
She moved closer to him. “How long do we have to stay with Ashleigh?”
“She says we have to stop Jenny before she kills more people.”
“And what happens after that? Can we leave?”
“You don't like Ashleigh?”
“She’s actually not so bad,” Esmeralda said. “I like her more as I spend time with her. But then, when I’m alone with you, I remember why I really came.”
“And I’m glad you did.” He slid an arm around her, avoiding the band of exposed brown skin between the hem of her short shirt and her low-slung jeans. She was dressing in Ashleigh’s old clothes.
“I know you use your power against me sometimes,” Esmeralda said. “But you don’t have to.”
“I can’t turn it off,” he said. “I don’t have a choice.”
“I want to be with you,” she said. “I hate my life. My job is nice, but my mother…and Pedro…” She rolled her eyes. “I don’t stay with you because you make me. I stay because I want to.”
“You do?”
“Yes.” She opened her beaded patchwork purse, which was hung over a kitchen chair. She rummaged inside it, then handed him a gold coin. “Do you remember this?”
Tommy looked at it. The head of an Indian chief, complete with headdress, was engraved on one side, an eagle on the other.
“I gave this to you,” he said. “I’m surprised you haven’t sold it.”
“It makes me think of you,” she said.
He looked at her. His heart skipped in his chest, the way it had when they were kids. She was looking up at him with beautiful brown eyes, her hand floating close to his waist.
“You really do remember me,” he whispered.
“I never told about the money,” Esmeralda said. “Even my mother. I told her I lost my power. It freed me from that horrible work.”
“You are sneaky.” He reached a hand toward her bare waist, but he didn’t want to touch her and fill her up with fear. He felt extremely frustrated.
“It is okay.” Esmeralda pressed his hand to the hot skin of her stomach. She shivered, and she sucked in a gasp of air through her teeth, but she kept his hand there.
“I fill people with fear,” Tommy said. “Whenever I touch them. I’ve shattered people’s minds, once or twice. And I didn’t even mean to.”
“I know,” she said. “I can feel it. But I…kind of like it.” She closed her eyes. “It makes me feel so alive.”
Tommy leaned down and kissed her. She tensed, then pushed her face against his. She shuddered as their tongues touched each other. She tasted like the habanero pepper, and her kiss burned his lips and tongue.
Tommy pulled her close and held her tight against him, and she kissed him harder. She slid both her hands to the back of his head and curled his dark hair in her fingers.
He realized he was going to take her right here, in the kitchen, against the counter, and he’d never wanted anything more in his life.
A high-pitched scream pierced his eardrum. The smoke detector, bleating its warning.
Tommy opened his eyes. Lost in each other’s lips and hands, they hadn’t noticed the ground beef turn to a charred black pile in the skillet, or the kitchen fill up with smoke around them.
“Fuck!” Tommy pushed the skillet onto a cold burner, then ran to the wall, jumped up, and slapped the smoke detector, which was mounted on the wall near the high ceiling. It gave a short beep as a parting shot, and then it shut up.
Esmeralda looked at the thoroughly burned meat. She smiled at him through the smoky air.
“This is your specialty cooking?” she asked.
“I got a little distracted.”
Esmeralda took another habanero from the jar. “Looks like it’s vegetarian chili tonight.”
Jenny woke to the sound of Darcy whispering.
“Huh?” Jenny said. She forced her heavy eyelids to open.
Darcy stood in the doorway of Jenny’s bedroom in the early morning light. Her purse was slung over her shoulder.
“Jenny,” Darcy whispered again. “I have to go home. My dad said I have to be home early or I’m in deep doo-doo.”