Dragon Heat 1 - Dead Sexy Dragon (4 page)

a box with an address at my back door. I’d hide their box

in one of my bigger boxes of cookies or pastries and send

my deliveryman on his way.”

Stig tried not to let the disappointment show on his face.

Inside was a different matter. He wanted to shout at her,

chastise her for such stupidity. He counted backward from

ten to get a handle on his frustration. “What was in the

boxes?”

“Drugs. Money. Guns.” Cora shrugged. “I don’t know. I

was too afraid to look. What if the person on the other end

of the shipment reported tampering?”

He could appreciate that fear. “I suppose something

went haywire at some point.”

“My delivery guy was T-boned at an intersection during

a rainstorm. The boxes of cakes and pastries and cookies

went flying all over the damn road. One of them just

happened to spill out a brick of cocaine.”

“For fuck’s sake!” Stig kneaded his temples. “Were you

arrested?”

“No. But the story hit the evening news. At that point, I

had, like, nine employees I hadn’t let go because of

finances. All but four of them quit. My regulars were

canceling orders left and right.” She gave a sad little

shrug. “At that point, I figured my ass was already toast,

so I told the cops the truth.” Cora issued a sarcastic laugh.

“Needless to say, the people I’d been ferrying boxes for

were none too pleased.”

More tears welled in her eyes. She sniffled loudly. “I

went ahead and opened for breakfast the next morning.

You know, burritos and pastries and all that. Right before

eight, some jerk in a white cargo van drove by and tossed

two Molotov cocktails through the front windows. We

barely made it out alive. After the police were done

questioning me yesterday morning, I grabbed my stuff and I

ran.”

“To me,” Stig murmured.

“To you.” Cora dabbed at her face with a napkin. “You

were the first person to pop into my head. I knew you’d

find a way to help me, but that eight-hour drive here was

the longest of my life. ”

Stig reeled with shock at Cora’s revelation of criminal

misdeeds. “We’ll have to get you a lawyer.”

She nodded. “A friend of mine is an intern in the public

defender’s office. Her boss was able to keep me out of

cuffs but he thinks the district attorney will probably hold

jail over my head in exchange for testimony.”

Stig cursed softly and wiped a hand down his face.

“Why didn’t you come to me before, Cora?” He didn’t

even bother to hide the aggravation in his voice. “I would

have helped you! I would have given you the money to

cover Hector’s debts.”

“There’s no way you have the kind of cash on hand

these people wanted, Stig. You were a marine just like

Hector. I’m sure your furniture business does well, but

there’s no way you’re pulling in those kinds of profits.”

Of course, Stig thought with some sadness. Cora had no

idea what kind of wealth he’d amassed over the centuries.

To her, he was nothing more than a former marine and

woodworker. She had no way of knowing the truth—that

he was an immortal dragon. During his lifetime, he’d

bought and sold property, invested in new technologies

and pharmaceuticals and more. He wasn’t as wealthy as,

say, Ignatius or Reynard, but his bank account showed a

very healthy balance.

“I would have found a way, Cora.” He should let it go

but he couldn’t. He fumed over the situation she’d gotten

herself into because she’d been too proud—and silly—to

ask for help.

“I know,” she whispered. “I just didn’t want to involve

you in something so ugly.”

“I would have gladly mired myself in it. You’re very

important to me, Cora.”

Her head snapped up at that revelation. Their gazes

locked across the table. Stig couldn’t believe he’d said

that aloud, yet he had no urge to take it back. It was the

truth, plain and simple. Cora meant a great deal to him.

Other than the handful of marines he still kept in touch

with via e-mail or phone, Cora was his last connection to

humanity. She was something sweet and sassy and

beautiful he wanted to protect. Her genuine love of life

kept him tethered to reality. It would be so easy to shut

himself away in his isolated fortress and live as many of

his Brothers preferred: in solitude. Embracing the loner

lifestyle had proven useful over the years. It kept him safe

and his life free from complications. It allowed him to

keep his mind on his duty and on protecting the dragon

community from the Knights who wanted them extinct.

For Stig, it had always been easy to separate himself

from the outside world. He liked living alone in the

middle of nowhere.

Until Cora.

Sitting here in his kitchen, sharing a home-cooked

breakfast, made him painfully aware of all the simple

pleasures he’d been missing. There was something

alluring about the idea of coming down to a kitchen filled

with the smells of breakfast cooked by the woman sharing

his life. He hadn’t realized just how lonely his solitary

lifestyle was until then.

But those types of ideas were dangerous. Cora wasn’t

the girl for him. The rules of the Brotherhood of the Green

Hide were painfully clear. Other dragons in the general

population might stray across species lines but it wasn’t

allowed among the Brothers. The very act that had made

the Brotherhood necessary and that had put the Knights of

St. George on the hunt for them had been caused by a

human woman and a dragon. It simply wasn’t done.

Even if Stig’s blood oath to the Brotherhood hadn’t

stood in his way, Cora belonged to another world and

deserved things he could never give her. To protect her

from the danger that always surrounded him, he should

send her away. His dragon was already sniffing around

and trespassing into her dreams. It was only going to get

worse.

Unfortunately, a very real threat to her existed outside

the safety of his home. Until it was sorted out, he had to

keep her close.

“You can stay until we sort this out.” Stig rose quickly

and cleaned off his plate. “You’ll be safe here.”

Cora stood and caught his hand as he turned to leave.

Her touch branded him and sent electric arcs up his arm

and across his chest. His breath arrested in his lungs as

Cora slid her arms around him and hugged him. Stig didn’t

know what to do. His arms dangled uselessly at his sides.

Her curvaceous body pressed against him in all the wrong

—and right—places. He could so easily cup her cheek and

tilt back her head, finally claim that pink pout for his own.

Arms still around his waist, Cora smiled up at him.

“Thank you, Stig.”

“Anything for Hector’s sister.” He quickly pecked her

forehead and stepped back. “I’ll be in the shop if you need

me.”

Lips on fire and pulse sprinting, Stig spun on his heel

and left the house. He had to get away from her before he

made a colossal mistake.

* * *

Anything for Hector’s sister.
The words echoed in her

mind, rubbing a raw spot as they bounced around. She

gulped back her disappointment and started to clean up the

kitchen. For a second there, Cora had been sure Stig was

debating whether or not to kiss her. She’d heard the uptick

in his heartbeat as she’d hugged him. There was no

mistaking his body’s response to her closeness. He wanted

her.

But he was afraid. She’d sensed that clearly. Of what,

she couldn’t say. There was some line he wasn’t prepared

to cross. Cora’s mischievous side wondered what it

would take to get him to throw caution to the wind and

take the leap. She supposed a little aggressiveness on her

part might work.

Was that a good strategy? Probably not, she admitted.

Stig didn’t seem like the type to be led into anything he

didn’t want. He was principled like that. She mentally

crossed off any plans to strut naked around the house or

display any sort of seductive behavior. The last thing she

wanted to do was alienate or annoy him. She needed to

stay in Stig’s good graces. He was the only thing between

her, the streets, and some very bad men.

Disappointment seemed to be Cora’s default setting as

of late.

She cleaned up the kitchen and headed upstairs to

change out of her pajamas. A pair of jeans and a simple

yellow tank top were the first things she spotted when she

opened her suitcase. Once dressed, Cora found her laptop

and cell phone and moved downstairs. A comfy brown

leather couch in the living room called to her. She nabbed

the corner seat, stretched out her legs, and started making

phone calls and typing notes.

The detective in charge of her case gave her an update.

There were no leads on the arson at the bakery, nor were

there likely to be any in the future. None of the witnesses

were talking.

“Where are you staying?” he asked.

“I’d rather not say.” Cora didn’t want to risk anyone

finding out where she was. The kind of people who would

burn down her bakery were the kind of people who

probably had someone on the inside. “You can reach me

on my cell.”

“Sure.”

The call ended and Cora returned a message from her

insurance agent. There was some question as to whether

the policy would pay for the total loss since Cora had

technically been engaged in illegal activities, albeit under

duress. That piece of information left her even angrier at

herself. What the hell had she been thinking? Why hadn’t

she been braver and told those punks to go to hell? Why

hadn’t she been smarter and reported their sorry asses to

the police?

But what was done was done and there was no changing

it. She’d made her bed. At least she’d be able to start over

in a new city. Where or how she’d build her new bakery,

she had no idea. She’d find the right place eventually. She

had to because the thought of never again waking up early

to knead dough or decorate cupcakes or mix up some of

her grandmother’s famous pastries was unimaginable.

Baking was in her blood.

Her business dealt with, Cora called and texted a few

friends to let them know she was okay. She hedged on the

location with them as well. She couldn’t be too careful.

With her to-do list complete, Cora set aside her phone

and laptop and wondered how to spend the rest of her day.

Used to the hustle and bustle of the bakery, she found the

house incredibly quiet, almost unnervingly so. How could

Stig bear the solitude? Perhaps he found the animal

residents of the surrounding woods company enough. The

thought of said animals goosed her memory. She eyed the

kitchen and shoved off the couch. Last night, she’d heard

something odd down in his basement. She’d meant to tell

Stig about it but he’d left in such a hurry. The thought of

bothering him now wasn’t all that appealing. His abrupt

departure had made it fairly clear he wasn’t in the mood

for chitchat.

Cora stood in front of the forbidden door. There could

be something down there, something hurt and in need of

help. Curiosity triumphed over sense and Cora twisted the

handle. The unlocked door creaked ominously as she drew

it open and stepped through the doorway. Steps led down

into darkness. She cautiously felt the wall on either side of

the staircase but detected no light switch.

She retreated from the darkness into the safety of the

kitchen and located a flashlight in one of the drawers. She

flicked it on and carefully descended the stairs. Moist,

pungent air engulfed her. She listened intently for any

noises but heard only the faint drip of water. A plumbing

leak?

The light beam bounced side to side. She expected to

see a basement of some kind, four walls and shelves, but

there was nothing. As far as she could tell, there was only

the stairwell leading down to a cement floor.

Her internal alarm clanged loudly. This wasn’t right. As

she reached the bottom of the stairs, her worst fears were

realized. The staircase dead-ended at a large metal door

with a keypad.

Cora’s blood went cold. This wasn’t a basement. This

was a holding cell.

As if the fires of hell nipped at her heels, she rushed up

the steps. Panting and shaking, Cora slammed the basement

door. She dropped the flashlight back in the drawer and

ran back into the living room where she promptly flopped

down on the sofa and tried to reconcile what she’d seen.

What was Stig keeping down in that basement? Was it

something illegal? He obviously didn’t want anyone to

know about it. Oh God! What if he found out she’d been

down there?

“Calm down.” Cora spoke sternly to calm her nerves.

Stig was a standup guy. He’d been a marine, for crying out

loud. Surely there was some other explanation for what

she’d uncovered. It was likely to be simple and not in the