IK3 (14 page)

turned back to Morgan. “When are they leaving for California?”

“I’m not sure. In a day or two probably.”

“Hmmm. Not much time to get my henchmen in place.” He walked over to

the small desk by the window and opened a drawer, taking a small object no

bigger than a dime out of it. “Here,” he said to Morgan, “it’s a GPS. Slip this

into that reporter’s purse. Neither she nor Myles have met Carl Landon. I’ll

get him to track them.”

“He didn’t do such a good job last time,” Lucifer said.

Balor smiled coldly. “I think getting his butt reamed thoroughly by me

taught him a lesson. I might just do it again before he goes as a reminder.

Nothing like a homophobic, macho kid quarter-staked on his belly with that

tight ass exposed, just waiting to be ripped and bloodied. That really gets

me off.”

Morgan kept her face impassive. Carl was a nice kid with shaggy brown hair

and a cute smile most women found irresistible. Unfortunately, he also had a

gambling problem which Adam Baylor had generously ‘paid off’ and now

owned him. That Carl was a winner with the ladies and proud of his lean,

muscular body were two things Adam had zeroed in on—and used. Morgan

had actually felt sorry for the kid after one multiple male-rape job that had

worked him over, leaving him bloody and raw for not attending to an

assignment.

It was always wise never to show weakness if front of Adam.

“Maybe Sigurd could trail them as well,” she said off-handedly.

“Can you convince him to do it discreetly?” Lucifer asked. “The more we can

keep the media’s attention captured here, the easier it will be to follow

them.”

“Of course.” Morgan flicked her lashes at him. “I’ll just give him some extra

attention tonight when we meet.”

Balor laughed. “It’s a good thing those dragons can morph down to dog size

or you might be out of commission for awhile.”

Morgan smiled. The animal was a lot gentler than Adam had ever been. And,

even better, she could absorb the dragon’s powerful energy, even if he

reduced his size to a large dog.

Only Adam Baylor did not know that.

“Not again! Oh, my heavenly stars, not again!” Mr. Smith stood at the front

door, wringing his hands and staring at Captain Johnson.

Chloe nearly collided with Gavin as they came running into the foyer from

separate rooms. From the number of flashing squad car lights, she could

only guess another body had been dumped nearby.

“That damn demon needs to be returned to hell,” Gavin muttered so low

that Chloe wasn’t sure she heard him right. She frowned. The theory—hard

to believe—was that a dragon or some other monster animal was loose in

Dallas. What did Gavin mean by ‘demon’?

“It was the same M.O.,” the captain said as Benton ushered them into the

adjacent parlor, a firm grip on a trembling Mr. Smith. He practically

collapsed in an armchair. Silently, the butler poured him a stiff drink and

gestured to the rest of them.

“No thanks,” Chloe said as Gavin shook his head.

“Can’t while I’m on duty,” Captain Johnson said although he looked longingly

at the brandy bottle.

Chloe guessed accepting the dragon theory might go down better with a

good snifter of French cognac. “Was it a man or woman? Have you ID’d

her?”

“Woman. From what she was wearing—or not wearing—she’s probably a

streetwalker.” He consulted his small notepad. “What I can’t figure is how—

or why—downtown hookers are ending up in this neighborhood, shredded

and mangled.”

Mr. Smith’s hand shook as he set down his empty glass. “Could it possibly

be a dragon?”

The officer’s lips formed a thin, tight line. “I would think we’d have gotten

reports of a dragon flying around. We certainly did when that red streak lit

the skies a few months ago.”

Chloe felt sorry for him. The poor guy just didn’t want to admit that there

might be some paranormal creature around. From what Jake had said,

people actually saw something that looked like a red dragon. It even sat on

the street in front of the vet’s home one time.

Mr. Smith picked up his refilled snifter. “Maybe it isn’t in its original shape.”

Captain Johnson looked at him warily. “A dragon theory is pretty far-fetched.

I hope you’re not trying to tell me it—what’s the word they’re using in those

teen fantasy movies? Oh—yeah—that it shapeshifts?” His glance shifted to

Mr. Smith’s glass and allowed himself a small smile that really looked more

like a grimace. “I hope we aren’t going to start rumors about vampires and

werewolves, too.”

Gavin looked at him sharply. “Has there been mention of anything like that?”

“No. And there had better not be. Good God, it’s bad enough we don’t know

what’s causing this, let alone get all the crazies involved.” He turned back to

Mr. Smith. “What did you mean though?”

Mr. Smith burped, his eyes owlish. “Well, Sophie had a smaller version of the

red dragon, but she called it a Gila monster. It flew with her and Michael

when they hunted the—” He stopped. “I mean, they were searching for a

rare treasure for me and she took it with her.”

“A Gila monster. Some pet.” Captain Johnson closed his notepad and stood.

“I’ll let you know as soon as I find out anything else. And meanwhile,

everyone who’s staying here should stay inside—we don’t know what is

loose. And have your PR lady keep the comments as neutral as she can.”

Mr. Smith nodded, looking hopefully at the brandy decanter which Benton

firmly closed and replaced on the small service bar. “Would you see the

officer out?”

Chloe furrowed her brow as Morgan appeared in the doorway, still clad in a

negligee that was practically transparent, but she only listened half-

heartedly as Gavin told Morgan what Captain Johnson had said.

The information that maybe the dragon could reduce its size would certainly

explain how it could go undetected. However, she had a strong inkling that

anything as powerful as a dragon—or whatever it was—would not stay small

for long. Jake had said the red one appeared to be over thirty feet long.

Where would a dragon that big go?

Chloe remembered Morgan’s remark about filming in the desolate regions of

Palo Pinto County. She’d been there once on a school field trip studying the

Commanche. They’d used the twisting gullies and huge outcrops of boulders

and hidden caverns as a way to disappear from the cavalry that pursued

them. What better place for a dragon to hide?

Darn it. She’d missed a good story regarding the red dragon since she’d

been in California visiting her mother. Maybe a little trip out to Palo Pinto

would prove enlightening. Chloe wished she could leave immediately, but

she couldn’t take a chance on the media following her or, for that matter,

Gavin or Mr. Smith stopping her. Evening would be better. With her old car,

the media would think she were only staff going home. She kept her

camping gear in the trunk, so she could sleep out tonight and start searching

as soon as dawn cracked in the morning.

She needed a good story—one she could dedicate to Jake. He didn’t deserve

to be forgotten. And neither did those two poor women.

****

more than even his vampiric skills could handle. Thankfully, Morgan had

been busy fielding calls and requests for interviews over this latest murder

and Gavin went searching for Chloe to establish road rules for the trip west.

Rules he was pretty sure she wouldn’t want to follow.

Only she was nowhere to be found. She wasn’t in her room or the library or

the gardens. Caldwell hadn’t seen her since lunch and Gavin didn’t

remember seeing her either, having been preoccupied in keeping his keen

hearing attuned to Morgan’s conversations on the phone in case she tried

contacting the demon. Even he could not be in two places at once. Gavin

sighed, wondering what karma he was repaying in being plagued with a

woman who had demon-infested blood and a stubbornly independent female

who did not heed good advice. Chloe had been told to stay indoors. Did she

listen? Of course not. Worse, Gavin suspected her dragon tattoo had

somehow attracted Sigurd’s attention—and if that were true, the free-

spirited waif could be in real danger.

Muttering darkly, he went back to her room. Her clothes hung neatly in the

closet and her suitcase was under the bed. He poked his head into the

adjacent bath and realized her toiletries were missing. Why would she—He

stopped in mid-thought, spying a note propped up against the soap

dispenser.

It only contained one line—that she was on a story and would be back the

next day. Gavin cursed roundly. No doubt the ‘story’ had to do with the

murders which meant she was setting herself up—albeit it unknowingly—to

be the next target.

Folding the paper, he placed it in his jean pocket and grabbed a shirt she’d

left draped over a chair. Holding it to his nose, he closed off his other senses

to fully inhale her scent. He’d give a century of time if Lucas were here to

shift into wolf form to track Chloe down, but he was on his own.

With luck, he would find her before the dragon did.

****

varying hues of pinks and lavender, even as the sky gave up its last streaks

of red and orange to deepen into indigo.

Chloe added broken-off mesquite to her small fire in the area she had

cleared and settled into her sleeping bag. She could have slept in her car,

but the night was perfect for being outdoors. For October, the air was still

warm, and soon thousands of sparkling diamonds would light a velvet-black

sky. In the distance, she heard coyotes calling to each other and smiled.

Some people thought they were a nuisance or even dangerous, but she had

always enjoyed listening to their songs. Besides, the fire would keep them

away as it would wolves and bobcat.

Burrowing into her downy nest, Chloe allowed herself a grin. In a few more

days, she and Gavin would be headed west, without Morgan. Gold-mining

country lent itself to camping out, something an Englishman had probably

never done. Nestling together in a sleeping bag could be way more than just

cozy… Still smiling, she turned on her side, closing her eyes and drifted off

to sleep.

“Mmmm,” Chloe murmured sometime later as a callused male hand slid

down her shoulder to cup and knead her breast. Warm lips caressed her ear,

trailing kisses down her throat as she turned sleepily over to invite more

contact. “Gavin?”

“Shhhh, do not speak,” he said and laved a nipple while he rolled the other

one between his thumb and forefinger. He slipped his thigh between her

legs, rubbing delicious friction in just the right spot.

“Mmmm,” she said again and wrapped her arms around his strong back,

stroking the smooth skin over hard muscles and then moaned softly as his

hot, wet mouth covered her breast and he began to suckle. “That feels so—”

“Do not speak!”

He raised himself and, in the darkness, all she could see were his darkly

glittering eyes before his mouth took hers. His tongue thrust into her mouth,

deep and demanding, as he spread her legs and moved over her, his hard

erection probing her slick entrance—

A low growl brought her bolt-upright and awake. Chloe clutched the bedding.

The fire was still burning. No coyote would get that close—she peered into

the darkness and then gasped.

Two huge, white hounds, their eyes glowing red, sat on the haunches

watching her. Between them a man stood, but he wasn’t Gavin. Chloe

squinted, barely able to make out his form. He was bare-chested and

perfectly-muscled, his hair long and he exuded pure male sexuality and—she

squinted harder—it looked like he was wearing a set of antlers on his head.

Either she was still dreaming or some oddball sect was having strange rituals

out here in the country. She looked around, but saw no one else. “Who are

you?” she asked.

“My name is not important to you. This is my land.”

Chloe breathed a sigh of relief. He thought she was a trespasser. “I’m sorry.

I didn’t think that anyone would mind if I camped here for the night.”

He smiled, flashing extremely white teeth in the darkness. “I do not mind at

all. Were you enjoying yourself?”

“I— I was asleep, dreaming.”

“Are you sure?”

What did he mean by that? A chill ran down her spine. Could he have been—

no, she was still fully clothed. She looked up uneasily. Something was way

off here.

“How did you find me?” she asked, hoping her voice sounded calm. He

glanced at the fire and then back at her and she felt her face heat. Of

course, fire kept animals away, but it also attracted humans. These hills

belonged to Comanche at one time. Maybe this guy was a Native American,

practicing some religious thing. That would account for the antlers. “Am I

imposing on tribal land?” She stood slowly, hoping those monster dogs were

under his control. “I’ll leave immediately.”

He took a step closer. “I was about to hunt, but it can wait. Why don’t we