Dragon Fever: Limited Edition Holiday Romance Boxset

by Serena Meadows

  Ronan frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “If we can manage a little misdirection,” she replied, nibbling her lip, “make him think it’s somewhere else, he’ll have his friends watching that, not the terminal.”

  “And then walk in, get it, and blow this joint?”

  Daryl laughed. “Where’d you learn that phrase?”

  His arm around her shoulders, he pulled her closer to him. “I watched a little television after you fell asleep last night.”

  “You’re learning fast.”

  They returned to the Royal Ascot Arms via another cab and headed up the elevator to their rooms. It was afternoon, but Daryl didn’t feel hungry as she paced their quarters, thinking. Ronan switched on the television and lay on the bed, watching some movie.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, his arms behind his head.

  “Trying to think of a way to get Tank running in the wrong direction,” she replied, tossing out one idea after another. That won’t work, he’ll never fall for it.

  “Write him a letter.”

  Daryl stopped, one foot ready to take another step, and wheeled on him. “What?”

  “Inform him you’re scared he’ll kill you and tell him where he can find his money. He’ll look there and give us time to go back to the bus station, grab it, and be on a bus to Oregon.”

  Amazed by the simplicity of the idea, Daryl continued to pace, thinking hard. “But he may not go for it,” she muttered, scowling at the floor.

  “Why not?”

  “He knows you’re a dragon. Why would I be afraid of him if I have a dragon in my bed?”

  Ronan shrugged. “Does he really? Yesterday, he had no idea I’m a shifter. A dragon just appeared to spit some fire at him. Today, his guys will tell him the man you were seen with turned into one. Will he make the connection?”

  “Yeah. He’s a smart guy.”

  “What if I had abandoned you?”

  Daryl gaped, pausing again in her pacing. “Then I’d be more scared than ever. Terrified he’d find me and I’d have no protection at all.”

  Ronan grinned. “Then it could work?”

  “It might.” Daryl turned toward the room’s desk and stationery. “At least, it might distract him enough that he might stop watching the terminal. And his pals may not be so thrilled about staking it out for him anymore.”

  “And without their help, he’s blind?”

  “At least in some respects. His gang obeys him for the most part, but they’ll raise a stink if they’re made to sit watching a bus terminal for days on end without much hope of a reward.”

  “So, their loyalty isn’t boundless.”

  “They’ll kill for him, never doubt that.” Daryl sat down at the desk. “But sitting on their butts for little or nothing isn’t their calling.”

  Biting her lip, Daryl scribbled a letter to Tank stating that he could find his cash in a certain locker in Grand Central Station and where to find the key. She explained she was terrified he’ll kill her and that she was alone and scared. I will leave town and never come back. You have your money and no reason to come after me. Leave me alone, Tank.

  Folding the paper, she put it into a hotel envelope and wrote Tank’s address on it. “When we head out next,” she said, setting the letter on the desk, “we’ll mail it. Give it a day or so for it to get to him.”

  Ronan held out his hand in invitation. Daryl accepted it and sat on the edge of the bed with him. “Then we get out of here?” he asked, his hand on her waist.

  “Yeah.”

  Daryl shoved her hair over her shoulder, then bent to kiss him, her lips moving slowly over his. His mouth curved into a grin. “Good. I’m not cut out for city life,” he murmured.

  “Neither am I.”

  Daryl straightened and glanced at the time. “What say we go get a bite to eat?” she asked. “I know I’m spending your money, but once I get my hands on mine, I’ll pay you back.”

  His brow lifted. “Didn’t you say once that all that eating will make you fat?”

  “Are you really going to remind me of that? You are the pits, Ronan. Really. The pits.”

  He sighed dramatically and sat up. “And I did say you were too skinny, and you are. Let’s go.”

  Daryl clicked the television off. Picking up the letter, she put it in her rear pocket and asked, “You keep all your money with you? At all times?”

  Ronan stretched. “Yeah. Why?”

  “Just worried about sticky fingers, even in a place this fancy.”

  Standing, he bent to kiss her. “You worry too much.”

  “I’m just naturally suspicious of others.”

  They rode down the elevator with another couple, an older man and woman who clearly had money by their mode of dress. She wore a pearl necklace and a huge diamond ring while he had a Rolex strapped to his wrist. They looked at Daryl and Ronan and their plain jeans and shirts with disdain evident on their features.

  “Ronan, honey,” Daryl drawled, catching his startled eye, “I do so hope you haven’t forgotten we’re to have dinner with the mayor tonight. The governor may also attend, I heard.”

  “No, sweetlips,” Ronan replied easily. “I haven’t forgotten. We’re expected at the mayor’s palace at eight sharp.”

  Daryl stifled a giggle as the older couple glanced at one another, mouths open. Then the elevator doors slid open with a quiet hiss, and they hustled out with no few wary backward glances. Crossing the lobby’s marble floor, Daryl took Ronan’s arm.

  “The mayor doesn’t live in a palace, you know.”

  “No? What does he live in?”

  “A mansion.”

  “There’s a difference?”

  Daryl laughed as they reached the front desk. “No, not really.”

  She bought a stamp from the clerk, saw her letter into the mailbox, and, hand in hand, they headed for the main doors. “Where do you want to go for lunch, sweetlips?” Daryl asked.

  “Your choice, honeybun.”

  Passing the doorman and reaching the valet, Daryl and Ronan paused to order a cab. As the valet dialed a cab company, three cars screamed from the parking lot, headed right for them.

  Chapter Ten

  “Well, well, well,” Tank said cheerily, oozing from the front car, smirking, “Wassup, baby? Did you miss me?”

  Ronan, grinding his teeth in fury, eyed the four men emerging from the cars to surround them. All except Tank held guns in their hands, the expressions behind the weapons blank and implacable.

  The stricken valet backed away, his face pale, before bolting for the doors. Daryl set her jaw and faced Tank, seemingly without fear.

  “Actually, I didn’t, Tank,” she replied. “You aren’t worth it.”

  Tank clutched his chest dramatically with his left hand, his right bound in stiff plaster. “Oh, how you wound me, baby.”

  Ronan met Tank’s eyes briefly, observing the flicker of fear in them. You should be afraid of me, asswipe.

  “Keep this son of a bitch outta my hair,” Tank ordered.

  Two-Bit and Flame used their guns to force Ronan aside, both clearly not concerned that Ronan was the least bit dangerous. They don’t know what I am. They haven’t yet made the connection between me and the dragon. Yet, he could not find a way to turn that to his advantage.

  “Where’s my money, baby?” Tank asked, agreeable again. “Tell me, and you and your boy-toy are free to go.”

  “Just like that?” she asked.

  Tank made a strange gesture, crossing his chest with his fingers, then holding the first two up. “Scout’s honor.”

  Daryl folded her arms over her chest, scowling. “Like you were ever a Boy Scout.”

  If none of these guys were in the black vehicle, they don’t know the dragon and I are the same.

  Tank seized Daryl by the arm and yanked her toward him. Ronan forced himself to stand still, as though intimidated by the weapons pointed at him, letting his face show the fear he didn’t feel. It nearly kil
led him to permit Tank to manhandle Daryl, and deep within him, his rage grew and unfolded like wings.

  “Stop messing with me, bitch,” Tank snarled, his pleasant demeanor now gone. “One word from me and Flame’ll light you up like a fucking Roman candle.”

  Daryl cringed from him, and whether her fear was genuine or not, Ronan couldn’t tell. Her face buckled into an expression of terror, her mouth bowed down, tears flowed down her cheeks in a river. “Okay, okay,” she cried, trying to jerk her arm from his grip. “Stop hurting me.”

  “Pain will be the least of your worries if you don’t tell me where it is.”

  Daryl sobbed. “It’s in Grand Central Station.” She all but crumpled, held up only by Tank’s grip on her arm. “Locker number five-six-three.”

  “And the key?” he demanded.

  “The ladies' bathroom to the left of the main entrance.” Daryl wailed harder. “In the toilet tank, third stall. Oh, please, just leave me alone.”

  When Tank released her arm, Daryl collapsed on the pavement, sobbing, almost incoherent. For a moment, Ronan thought Tank would kick her as she knelt at his feet, and if he did, Ronan would lose all his self-control. But Tank didn’t. He flicked his gaze from Daryl to Ronan, as though expecting him to fight.

  “Thanks, baby,” Tank murmured, his eyes still on Ronan as he pulled a gun from the waistband of his jeans. “You did good.”

  “You’ll let me go now?” she begged, gazing up at him. Her eyes widened as she saw the gun in his hand. “No, Tank, please. You promised.”

  Sirens wailed, drawing closer by the sound. His gut told him to not change forms and blast these guys with fire. Ronan braced himself, readying for the fight to come, for Tank obviously had no intention of letting them go.

  “Cops,” Two-Bit snapped, lifting his gun toward Ronan’s face.

  “Kill ‘em.”

  Like a serpent uncoiling to strike, Daryl rose from her crouch. Her hand snapped out, throwing it wide to strike Tank’s awkward left hand with her right. In the same movement, she lashed out with her left fist, punching him squarely on the nose. Tank staggered back with a sharp cry and gave her the prime opportunity to thrust her knee hard into his crotch.

  Ronan didn’t hesitate. His fists seized both Two-Bit’s and Flames gun. Both weapons discharged, exploding harmlessly over his head. Clenching his fingers over theirs on the hard metal guns, he squeezed. Into his grip, he poured all of his dragon strength, his rage, crushing their hands. Both cried out as their fingers snapped, struggling to escape him, beating on his forearms with their free hands.

  Keeping his victims between himself and the other two, Ronan prevented them from shooting immediately. “Grab his gun,” he yelled to Daryl.

  Even as Tank lay on the asphalt, his face nearly purple in agony and fury, he tried to bring the gun around again to shoot her. Daryl kicked the cast on his right arm, making him howl, then stomped on his left wrist. The gun dropped from Tank’s lax fingers. She plucked it up and pointed it at the others.

  By now, the sirens had nearly reached them, and from the corner of his eye, Ronan caught a glimpse of the flashing lights atop the vehicles. He charged forward, shoving Two-Bit and Flame into the yet unfought pair of bangers. Trapped between their fellows and their cars, the two stumbled, their guns lowering.

  “Run!”

  Ronan grabbed Daryl by the arm and dragged her with him over Tank’s fallen form. She shoved the gun into her waistband, then ran with him, away from the cops and the bangers both. She pointed wordlessly toward the street to the right of the hotel. He shot a rapid glance over his shoulder, seeing Tank’s men scramble to their cars, forcing Tank inside. He heard the engines scream and tires squeal across the parking lot over the wail of the sirens.

  “Will the cops chase them or us?” he asked as they ran.

  “Both, maybe.”

  “Then we need to lose them.”

  Dodging pedestrians along the sidewalk, Ronan was forced to let go of her hand. By the sound, at least one cop vehicle chased after them but was slowed to a crawl by the heavy slower traffic on the street. Casting another rapid look over his shoulder, he saw a man in a uniform leap from the passenger side and, his hand on his gun, give chase.

  “Stop! Police!”

  “Keep running,” Daryl gasped, her gold hair streaming out behind her like a banner.

  Gazing ahead, Ronan tried to see a way to lose their pursuer. He saw nothing useful, then glanced back again. The cop still yelled orders for them to stop but fell further and further behind. “We’re outrunning him.”

  Daryl tried to also look back, but her thick hair fell over her face. She swiped it back with her hand, then barked a short laugh. “He gave up. Too many donuts.”

  Ronan planned to ask her later what she meant by that, but he gestured toward an alley. “Down there.”

  “No fires,” she huffed, glaring at him. “Promise.”

  “Promise.”

  Ducking down the alley, Ronan still heard the siren, but it came from a distance away. He suspected it still hunted them and pointed toward a rear door in a building. “Can we get in there?”

  “It’s probably locked.”

  Turning the knob under his hand, Ronan wasn’t surprised to find Daryl was right. Taking a step back, he lifted his leg and smashed his boot against the wood. The lock snapped with a flat cracking sound, and the door swung open to rebound against the wall.

  “Let’s hope you didn’t just set off an alarm,” Daryl said, lunging inside.

  Ronan shut the door behind them and looked around at the building they found themselves in. “How will we know?”

  “When the cops land on us with both feet.”

  Uncertain as to what sort of occupant owned this particular building, Ronan followed Daryl as she headed across the expansive cement floor. “What is this place?”

  “I think it’s an old theater,” she replied, catching her breath. “See the costumes hanging there?”

  Ronan glanced at the racks of clothing she pointed toward. “Think there are people around who might turn us in?”

  “I don’t hear anything.”

  Opening another door, Daryl peered out cautiously, and Ronan gazed over her head at the stage and the rows and rows of seats beyond. “I think we’re good,” she whispered. “But we might be wise to head for the roof.”

  “Then what?” Ronan asked as she strode quickly toward a set of stairs to the right of them.

  “Look and see if the cops have given up looking for us for one thing,” she replied. “And maybe we can get across to another roof.”

  Ronan tagged behind her as she trotted up three flights of stairs and stopped at another door. She swung it open, then propped it open with a large rock that apparently had been placed there for that purpose.

  “In case we need to back the way we came,” she explained.

  At the edge of the roof, Ronan and Daryl peered over, gazing down at the passing traffic below them. As always, people paced along the sidewalk in droves, hurrying to their destinations with an intensity that seemed almost fanatical. Traffic whizzed past, stopping at the lights before moving on again.

  “I don’t see any police,” Daryl reported.

  “Neither do I.”

  No sirens announced their presence; no flashing lights appeared as far as Ronan could see in either direction. Daryl straightened and took his hand. “Let’s check the alley, and if there’s none there, then I guess we gave them the slip.”

  No police cruised the alley either. Ronan perched on the edge, eyeing Daryl as she continued to stare down, searching for cops. “How did Tank find us at the hotel?”

  Daryl drew a deep breath, lifting her heavy lengths of hair from the back of her neck. “I don’t really know, but I’m a good guesser. He probably put the word out for his people to keep an eye out for me.”

  Ronan frowned, puzzled. “In a city this big with how many people in it, how can you be recognized?”

  “You’re
right,” she admitted, sitting beside him. “But the dope world isn’t as big as you’d think. While not everyone knows everyone else, I was fairly well known in Tank’s circles.”

  “So someone at the hotel knew who you were?”

  “That’s my guess. I may not have recognized him or her, but they knew who I was.”

  “We need to get our stuff and get out of there.”

  “Yeah, I agree. We should find a place where we can be safely anonymous.”

  “Is there any such place, Daryl?”

  Ronan took her hand when she flushed scarlet, staring down at her lap. “I don’t mean to hurt you, but if you’re that well known—”

  “I’m not, okay?”

  Daryl stood up, yanking her hand from his, and crossed her arms over her stomach. Ronan recognized her hurt and anger but had no idea what to do or say to alleviate it.

  “I’m sorry I got you into this fucking mess,” she snapped, pacing. “I didn’t know that I’d be known in some stupid hotel on Staten Island, and not everyone in New York knows who I am. For shit’s sake, I’m not famous or a movie star or anything. I’m just a junkie who scored big.”

  Ronan stood up to take her in his arms, but Daryl tried to jerk away. He held on and still pulled her in close. She stood still and unyielding against him as he stroked his hand down her hair. “You stand out to these guys,” he murmured against her head. “You’re so incredibly beautiful. That’s why it’s so easy to remember you.”

  “I never asked for that.”

  By her choked voice, Ronan suspected she was close to crying. “It doesn’t matter. You stand out like a shining star, and it’s no wonder you stick out among all these guys.”

  Daryl sniffed. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

  Lifting her chin with his finger, Ronan kissed her. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sorry.”

  She met his gaze, her eyes a brilliant blue with unshed tears. “I know. I’m just a little sensitive right now.”

  “Is there a hotel where we can be certain you aren’t known?”

  “I think our best bet might be a cheap motel someplace,” she answered, relaxing against him. “Maybe near one of the airports. Lots of travelers and a high turnover of employees.”