Hollywood Dragon: BBW Dragon Shifter Paranormal Romance (13 page)

For a moment she thought she’d lost Toby, and inwardly cursed herself. The girl clearly had a semblance of conscience underneath the bravado and the nerves. But it was not her strongest impulse.

“Niklos takes care of us,” came the answer, in a determined voice. Like she was quoting from the manual. “Niklos keeps us safe as long as we return his trust and obey orders. We’ve had
five islands
,” she added. “And three towns, but we always have to be careful, because They might find out about us, and the government will put us in cages and experiment on us.”

“I am not part of They. I would
never
hurt a shifter. Or tell anyone.”

“You’re one too?”

Jan didn’t want to lie, but sensed that not being a shifter would make her one of that conveniently evil Them. “My mate is a phoenix,” she said. “Phoenixes want to protect everyone. It's their nature. Especially their mate.”

“Mates are just talk, Niklos says. And that kind of talk makes you weak.”

“Love is never weak,” Jan said. “It's stronger than anything. Toby, I hope you find out how true my words are, and how wonderful it is to find your mate.” Her voice trembled and broke.

“I better go,” Toby said in a low, flat voice.

“Toby. Listen. If Niklos can threaten me, who never did anything to him, how safe are you, really? In Sanluce, people come and go without threatening anyone  . . .”

Footsteps ran away.

Silence.

Jan slumped back in defeat.
If Shelley were here, she’d know what to do.
Some martial arts trick, some amazing feat with a motorcycle.

But it’s just me
, Jan thought dismally.
All I can do is sing
.

Well, why not?
Who knows, maybe someone would actually hear!

She took another sip of water, breathed deeply, and began Donna Elvira’s lament from Mozart’s
Don Giovanni
.

Chapter Thirteen

If he concentrated, JP could douse his phoenix’s glow. It was actually an energy-saving instinct, as the glow was part of the healing energy a phoenix could impart, but it took concentration. When he tamped down the glow, Mick had said when they were teens that he looked like a stealth craft, a darkness that briefly blotted the stars.

JP soared in a high circle above Sanluce, opening his mind to the mental plane. The life forces of all beings gleamed in pinpoint lights against the flat, dark infinity.

He could see them all, but only recognized those he knew. Auras’ colors reflected moods. Red always meant anger, pain, danger.

He sensed Jan’s aura like a ruddy sun straight to the northwest.

As he gained altitude he thought about how he’d been able to home on her from their first meeting. He’d attributed it to mere attraction. If he hadn’t been so distracted—
so distrustful
, his inner voice whispered—he might have recognized the truth earlier.

She might have been safe
. . .

No. He could not let himself go down the blame path now. He flew steadily, forcing his awareness to remain quiescent as a pool. If he reached mentally for that other dragon, it would immediately know.

Presently he sensed the malevolent awareness, currently in his human form, moving eastward. Probably driving

JP banked and drifted over the brilliant golden-red of Jan’s awareness. The desire to reach for her, to shift and save her, was so strong it nearly overwhelmed him. But as he neared, he became aware of darker red lights surrounding her in a deliberate grid.

JP shut down the mental plane so he could do a visual scan below. Directly below lay a series of long, rectangular buildings. Jan was locked in a storage facility. Ah. And the red lights had to correspond with attackers lying in wait to ambush any rescuers.

He drifted away, and when he knew he was far enough that no one would hear the whoosh of his wings, he flew at top speed back to Sanluce, where he found Dennis and a bunch of ex-military people gathered in his carriage-drive, huddled in a group.

He drifted down, transforming expertly as his bare human feet hit the cement. Everyone stopped talking and turned his way. He was naked, of course, but that meant nothing to fellow shifters. Clothing was part of human behavior. Irrelevant to shifter business.

“I’ve found her,” he said. “About six or eight miles from here, on the outskirts of Danville, corner of Second Street and Los Robles. It’s a storage facility, and judging from the arrangement of life forces around it, he’s got an ambush of about twelve lying in wait.” He moved to the smooth soil under one of the lamps and used a finger to sketch out a rough map of the place as everyone huddled around.

Voices rose, then died down as Dennis raised his hands. “Half of you were here the summer my dad ran us like a boot camp. Remember the field exercises?” He paused for nods and yeses. “Well, we’re going to treat this like one of those covert missions. Dad still has a couple cases of smoke grenades, and a few other surprises. Deb, you’ll take one team to the north side, and I’ll take the south. We’ll surround them, and leapfrog in twos, clearing every corner high and low, moving inward . . .” He stabbed JP’s map with his forefinger as he outlined the plan.

Then they broke and ran to the designated vehicles.

JP figured they had ten minutes of driving to get there. He ran inside to his room to dress, then found his mother.

“Did you locate her?” she said.

“Yes. Dennis is taking a team to take care of the ambush.”

His mother eyed him, then indicated the big screen of the security computer. “I isolated the relevant part.”

JP watched as the clip began playing. A huge Mercedes—it looked armored—rolled into the lot, then worked around nose out, ready for a fast getaway. A couple of teenagers got out, one holding an envelope. That one—a young wolf shifter for certain—moved restlessly about as the thin, ferrety girl ran off.

JP switched to the second camera, which viewed the car side on. Tinted windows. He clicked the infra-red, and saw the heat outline of a big man.

He clicked back as the ferrety girl vanished into the rose garden.

The vid froze. “Eleven minutes later,” his mother said, and advanced the vid until the teenager and Jan came walking out of the side path of the rose garden.

Jan looked happy as she approached the car, then paused and glanced around with an air of expectation. “She was looking for me.”

He didn’t know he had spoken until his mother said, “You might have told me that you had found your mate.”

“You know how long she’s been here. I just found out for certain myself,” he said, and waited for the expected questions:
Are you sure this isn’t merely idle attraction? Who is she, who are her people?

Instead, his mother looked away, and gave a faint sigh. “I drove my own mate away before I married your father,” she admitted, as on the screen Jan got into the car, the teenage shutting her in. “He was a cook. At the time, I hated the idea of giving up everything I had been raised to expect, for a mere cook. I have regretted that decision ever since. Sometimes, when I am in the air and open to the mental plane, I can sense him far away.”

JP stared. His mother had never said anything like this, ever. He had no idea what to say.

“I never told you as I did not want you to think I regretted your birth. Or my work. We make our choices and live with them.” She shook her perfectly coifed head.

On the screen the teen got into the car, and it drove sedately past the other cars, speeding up when it reached the driveway. The wolf kid walked toward the house with his envelope, and vanished under the eaves.

“He handed it to Rose, who searched the house to find me. That’s why it took so long.”

“Does the kid come out again?” JP asked his mother.

“No. And Hank found a ratty pair of jeans and that same black tee shirt stuffed under a bush in the back garden. “Go find your Jan, Jean-Pierre,” JP’s mother said in a firm voice. “Bring her back.”

He kissed her on the cheek. “I will. I promise.”

Three minutes later, he was in the air.

* * *

“Don’t stop.”

Jan had been singing every sad aria in her repertoire. She had just finished with Madame Butterfly’s heartrending last aria, and had lain back, exhausted and depressed.

Jan sat up. “Toby?”

“I could hear you. So can Dave and Iggy. They said you sing good. Don’t stop.”

“I can’t sing anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m too sad. I’m sad because nothing good ever comes from kidnapping people. Ever.”

Toby said defensively, “I was starving. On the street. He found me. All of us, he saved us, and trained us, and said if he gets stronger, we get stronger.”

“Strong means attacking other people?”

“It means defending our clave.”

“But kidnapping me is not a defense.”

Toby’s voice went higher, thin with uncertainty and strain. “He said there is much gold thread somewhere under Sanluce. He said the more gold we get, the stronger we get, and that keeps everybody safe and happy.”

“Not the people of Sanluce,” Jan said.

“But they wouldn’t
listen
. They wouldn’t
share
. And then they attacked.”

“Toby, how would you like it if someone came to your clave from outside and said that you have to share, or else. Would Niklos share?”

After a brief silence, Toby said, “I shouldn’t be here. But your singing is so pretty. And he said you would be all right. It’s just to get that LaFleur guy to listen.”

Jan wondered if Toby was trying to reassure Jan, or herself.

A scrape, then the skitter of tiny claws. Jan suspected that Toby had transferred into her ferret and scurried away.

Her head panged. She crouched down by the door, forehead on her knees. Some time passed, minutes or hours, impossible to tell, then was startled by muffled shouts. Bangs.

Guns?

More noise, then a stinky, oily smell wafted under the door, clawing at the back of her throat. Jan scuttled back away from the door, gripping her purse to her, though it was scant protection.

Then she heard a distinctive clink and rattle at the door. And the door eased up so slowly that it barely made a noise.

In the darkness, a smaller, inkier darkness scuttled under the door, blurred, and a girl, faintly made out, crouched next to Jan. “They found you somehow. They attacked Rob’s team! I can hear good with my ferret ears, and Iggy didn’t know I was there. Niklos told Iggy to kill you if LaFleur’s people get here before he does.”

Jan heard Toby gulp, then the girl whispered, “Can you slither out? Then I’ll lock it again, and say you were a snake shifter, and got out that way.”

Jan moved to the door, but paused. “Toby, thank you very much. But whatever happens, I want you to know. If you get tired of living like that, come to JP LaFleur. Say I sent you. He would
never
tell anybody to kidnap or kill other people. To him, that is not safety.” Though she had never heard him say such a thing, she was totally convinced it was true.

“Go.
Hurry
. . .”

Jan squeezed under the door, which scraped painfully on her butt. She grabbed up her purse and sandals, thinking,
No one will believe I shifted into a snake and carried this stuff
. “Please think about it,” she whispered, then straightened up into a thick, terrible-smelling smoky fog.

She held her breath, peering around. She couldn’t see much beyond a foot in front of her, the overhead lamps a mere yellowish smear. Crouching low against the side of the building, she ran to the corner, then peered into the murk. Other than a couple of distant shouts, she saw nothing, so she slid along until she heard the roar of an engine and the screech of tires.

She threw herself behind a row of trash cans as the car screeched to a halt. Doors opened, and a voice she recognized shouted, “Stay here and monitor the phone. If he’s here
I’ll
find the bastard.”

The ring of keys was followed by a huge whoosh of air and a thud as of the biggest sail in the air being hit by a windstorm:
crack!

The smoke roiled crazily, briefly clearing—and Jan saw the big silver Mercedes. A man leaned against it. She froze, watching him as he fumbled in a pocket. For a gun? For a cigarette. A lighter clicked, then clicked again.

“Shit,” the guy muttered. “Iggy?”

No one answered, and the guy walked a little way from the car. “Iggy. You got a match?”

A shout came from somewhere behind. “Over here.”

The man looked around. Jan ducked back. Then footsteps walked away. Her heart tried to crowd her throat as she slipped out and ran to the car. A quick look and she tried the door. It was open!

Black clothes had been flung inside, with the car keys on top of them. The clothes stank of cigarette smoke.

She jumped inside the car, her fingers shaking so hard she dropped the keys the second she picked them up. Whimpering, she forced herself to hold her breath and started the car.

Then she began driving straight into the murk, hoping she wouldn’t crash into a wall or building. She could see about two feet in front of her, so she forced herself to go slow.

After two buildings slid by, the air began to clear. She kept driving with the lights off. She had no idea where she was—she had to get away.

When she came to a chain link fence she almost stopped, then drove right at it. The fence bulged, then snapped and flattened under the tires. The car bumped into an empty field.

She drove slowly, navigating by starlight. She still did not dare turn on the headlights—she was sure the bad guys would see her right away and give chase. A lone street light at a corner lit a closed fish and chips place, and some kind of repair shop, across from a gas station, also shut down.

She pulled up the car behind the fish and chips place, and left the engine running. First, she got out, swept the black clothes up and threw them into a dumpster that smelled so bad her eyes watered. Then she quickly got back into the car, her thundering heartbeat slowing enough for her to think. Was all that noise somehow caused by JP?

She had to go back. But what could she do, except be a target for that creep? If she were Shelley, she could fight any comer.

I’m not. So think
.

If the rescue (if that noise was a rescue) found her gone, where would they look?

Back in Sanluce.

She poked at the navigation system—and it came on. And the first map that came up was the one leading straight to the LaFleurs’ estate.
Thank you, Niklos,
she thought sourly.

And began to drive.