Dragon Fever: Limited Edition Holiday Romance Boxset

by Serena Meadows

  Higher than the noisy helicopters, faster than the lumbering jets, Kane danced and flew, diving fast only to swoop upward again, gaining altitude. For hours he soared, banking on the twitch of a wingtip, then straining to reach the moon.

  Only when the oxygen grew thin did Kane relent his chase for altitude and dove back toward the lights of the city beneath him. Folding his wings, he dropped, faster than gravity could pull him, knowing that one wrong move, the failure to react in time, would have him plastered to the asphalt in a bloody heap.

  Just over the roofs of the buildings, Kane spread his wings to buzz, faster than sheet lightning, over the city. Soaring upward again, he gazed over the lights reflecting off the black water of the rivers that converged in the city. Further away, the moonlight danced off the snow-capped peak of a single mountain.

  He had no idea the name of the tall peak, but thought perhaps he might travel to it, and live there. It reminded him of the home he had left behind. Homesickness, loneliness, overwhelmed his joy of flying again. Banking right, he flew slowly toward the hotel, avoiding a roaming helicopter by soaring over it.

  Landing on the roof, Kane furled his wings. Lingering in his other form for a few minutes, he stared at the mountain, clear in his sight. Once he changed back into his human, he would no longer be able to see it. Thinking about Taylor, he considered using his new phone to call her.

  He needed a friendly, compassionate voice, just to talk to, to connect with in his current state. Yet, he changed forms and walked back to the broken door, knowing she would be asleep at that hour. And would be annoyed to be woken up by someone she barely knew.

  Returning to his room, Kane walked down the empty hallway, hearing the sound of televisions through some of the walls, from others loud snoring. He slowed, seeing a form slumped on the floor and leaning against the door to his room. As though sensing his presence, the person lifted her head to watch him approach.

  Taylor.

  Her face, pale and drawn with fatigue or pain, scared him. Increasing his pace, Kane observed her awkward struggle to her feet, her wince, her weary smile. “What’s wrong?”

  Taylor held her left arm across her stomach in a way that Kane recognized instantly.

  “I knocked on your door,” she answered, gazing up as he stopped beside her. “I thought maybe you were asleep.”

  “I was on the roof.”

  Kane used his key card to unlock the door and held it wide for her. He flipped on the lights as she paced slowly in ahead of him, then sat in the chair by the window.

  “I don’t suppose you have anything to drink?” she asked.

  “I have beer.”

  “That would be great.”

  Opening the mini-fridge, Kane pulled out two beers and opened one to give her. Uncapping the other for himself, he sat on the edge of the bed near her, wondering how she had gotten hurt and whether it would be intrusive to ask.

  “I guess I just needed someone to talk to,” Taylor said at last.

  “I’m right here.”

  “You are such a nice guy.” Taylor smiled slightly. “I wish I had met you before I met Craig.”

  Intuition flashed through his mind. “He hurt you, didn’t he?”

  She drank from the bottle with her right hand, then nodded. “The day before yesterday.”

  “The day after your bender.”

  “Yeah. But not because of that, or you. He doesn’t know about you.” She stared out the window into the darkness, and Kane suspected the darkness stared right back. “He’d kill me if he did know.”

  “Let me look at your arm.”

  He set his beer aside and crouched beside her chair. Taylor gave him her arm, permitting him to gently pull her sleeve up past her elbow. Sucking in his breath in a long hiss, Kane looked at the dark bruising, the swelling, from her wrist to her elbow.

  “It’s not broken,” Taylor reported mildly. “At least, I don’t think it is.”

  “You should see a doctor.”

  She laughed. “Oh, no, can’t do that. If I did, the doctor would report abuse to the police, and then Craig would beat me to a pulp.”

  His anger rose. “The police are supposed to protect you, are they not?”

  “Sure. But they are better at protecting one another.” Taylor eyed him with bitter amusement. “Craig is a police officer.”

  Kane returned to his spot on the bed, frustration with what he knew about humans, and the way they treated one another, mounting. “Why do you stay with him?” he demanded, knowing he should moderate his voice but unable to. “Can you not leave? I thought females were free to leave their mates if they chose to.”

  “We are,” she replied. “There are folks at shelters who help women like me. But I dare not go. Not yet.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because Craig, being a cop, has resources to find me. And kill me.”

  She stared into his eyes. “And he will kill my daughters.”

  Kane dragged his fingers through his hair, blowing out a frustrated breath. “And he can get away with this? Because he is a police officer?”

  “Not with murder, no,” she answered, cradling her left arm. “He’d kill himself before letting himself be arrested for that and risk the death penalty. The police brotherhood may look the other way at a little girlfriend abuse, but not her death, and certainly not the deaths of two small girls.”

  “Then what can you do, Taylor?” he asked, gesturing toward her arm. “Keep letting him harm you?”

  “I’m biding my time for now,” she replied. “When I have enough money, I will leave, and he’ll not know where to look for me.”

  Chapter Six

  Craig Westerman stood with his back at stiff attention, his hands behind his back. He had no sooner arrived for his shift when Lieutenant Johnson summoned him to his office. Now he stared, inwardly furious and scared, as Johnson informed him of how much trouble he was in.

  “A civilian caught the incident on his cell,” Johnson told him, his tone icy cold. “A handcuffed suspect, and you punching him in the stomach. Obviously, an investigation has opened on it, Westerman.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Craig hated this motherfucker, and his position of authority over him. Ever since Taylor told Johnson he had beaten her badly enough to warrant a hospital stay, Johnson watched him. He made certain Craig knew he was being watched. Thus, when he disciplined Taylor, he had to make certain she wouldn’t require a doctor’s visit.

  “The powers that be are upset about this,” Johnson went on, leaning back in his chair. “It hasn’t made the news yet, but it probably will. One of my officers striking a handcuffed suspect.” Johnson shook his head, scowling. “If this was a first, Westerman, I might be inclined to help let this blow over. But it isn’t. If you’re lucky, you might keep your job. If you’re not so lucky, you might be charged with assault.”

  “I’m sorry, sir; it’ll never happen again.”

  Johnson snorted. “Oh, yes, it will. You’ve got a temper, man, and tempers and police work make a very bad mix. Most of the time, you’re a good cop. The rest of the time, you’re on a power trip. You think you’ve got the powers of God.”

  Craig said nothing, fighting to keep his anger in check. If he lost his job over this, no other city, town, or county would hire him. Not when he was fired for assaulting a handcuffed prisoner. The next job he might get was a Walmart security guard. If he was lucky.

  “I can’t protect you on this one,” Johnson continued as though taking Craig’s silence for agreement. “I won’t protect you on it. You’re a disaster in the making, and if you go down, you won’t take the department with you. Got it?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Johnson studied him for long minutes, making Craig think the guy was trying to read his mind. Maybe he was. At last, he said, “Until this is settled one way or another, you’re off the street.”

  Craig knew his jaw dropped but was unable to keep it shut tight. “What?”

  “I see i
n your eyes how pissed off you are,” Johnson replied calmly. “At me, I’m sure, but I don’t care about that. I let you arrest somebody, you’re likely to kill him as much as arrest him. I’m not risking a life, nor another civil rights violation lawsuit. Yeah, the guy you sucker-punched has a lawyer and is suing the city.”

  “Lieutenant, he mouthed off,” Craig protested. “He was cussing me out.”

  Johnson banged his fist on his desk, his dark face a mask of rage. Craig flinched back, realizing he should not have said that.

  “I don’t care if he insulted your mother,” Johnson snapped. “If you can’t take a little verbal abuse, then you have no business being a cop. Whether you like it or not, that guy has civil rights, and one of those rights is to not be assaulted by the arresting officer. Now you are driving a desk, Westerman, and your partner assigned to another officer. Now get out of here.”

  Furious, humiliated, vowing revenge, Craig turned around and stalked from Johnson’s office. Wanting to vent his fury on something, even a wall, he strode down the short hallway to the locker room. Before he reached the door, he heard good-natured raunchy jokes and laughter from beyond it.

  While he should be a part of such camaraderie, and usually was, this day, he stormed in, muttering under his breath.

  His usual partner, Cliff Mayes, busy grinning at whatever lewd joke Richard Adams had just told, turned his grin on Craig. He slapped Craig’s outstretched hand, then bumped knuckles with him. “Sup, brother?”

  “Johnson just put me on desk duty.” Craig spat on the floor.

  The grins and laughter died away. “That business with you punching the guy?” Adams asked.

  “Yeah. Some yo-yo filmed it.”

  “That’s bad, brother,” Cliff told him. “But it’ll blow over. This shit always does. Give it a week, and you’ll be back, badder than ever.”

  “I dunno,” Adams commented with a head shake. “You got a history, man. The brass has to come down hard on this. All across the country, people be watching us cops, all the unjustified shootings and shit.”

  “I didn’t shoot no one,” Craig snapped. “I just hit the guy.”

  “While he be in cuffs.”

  Craig narrowed his eyes. Adams was one of the cops who hadn’t jumped to Craig’s assistance when he put Taylor in the hospital the first time. But he had looked at Craig with judgmental eyes and made snide comments about cowards beating up women.

  If Craig had liked Adams before that comment, he certainly didn’t like him after.

  “Hey, check this out.”

  Cliff pulled his cellphone from his uniform pocket and clicked buttons. “I got this in my Facebook feed,” he said, chuckling. “This happened in our hood, too.”

  “What?” Adams asked.

  Curious in spite of his anger and his intense dislike of Adams, Craig looked over Cliff’s shoulder. Adams crowded at Cliff’s other side while other officers gazed at them with half-smiles, wanting in on the joke.

  It was a cell phone video at what looked like a Walmart with an altercation between a guy and a pregnant woman. He slapped her face, then a huge blond dude literally picked the guy up with one hand.

  “Eh?” Cliff asked, laughing. “This is one powerful fella.” He glanced at Craig, grinning. “Even you won’t wanna sucker punch this one.”

  Craig continued to watch as security arrived, and the perp tried to run. The big man knocked him out cold with one big fist, and even Craig was impressed by the dude’s speed and strength. Then the guy vanished into the crowd, and the video continued with the cops arriving to arrest the guy who hit the woman.

  “He shoulda minded his own business,” Craig groused as Cliff shut down his phone. “So what? Guy disciplining his woman; no big deal.”

  “It’s that attitude that’ll get you fired, Westerman,” Adams said, his eyes hard. “The guys ain’t gonna keep you outta jail for messing up your girlfriend. Not again.”

  “You didn’t do shit to help, either,” Craig shot back.

  “No, and I never will. Only cowards beat up women.”

  Craig made to lunge at Adams, his fury ramped up to a killing level. Adams held his ground, ready to fight, his fists up. Cliff caught Craig around his waist, as did two other officers nearby. Another took a stand between them, yelling for Craig to calm down.

  Relenting, Craig relaxed, glaring, shaking off the hands ready to seize him again should he go to charge Adams. He stared, unblinking, at the big cop in front of him. The guy’s name was Harrison, and he jabbed his finger into Craig’s chest.

  “He’s right, asshole,” Harrison barked, daring Craig to take him on. “We helped you once when you shoulda gone to jail. Not again. Your meanness will get us all in dutch, and I for one ain’t gonna risk my job for your stupid ass.”

  Cliff put his hand on Craig’s shoulder, urging him both to calm down and to come away with him, deescalating the conflict. Craig let himself be guided away, feeling a chill run through him. He had figured his brother officers were on his side no matter what, and to discover that wasn’t true at all—it scared him.

  “Look, bro,” Cliff told him. “I’m your friend, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “As your friend, I’m telling you, you gotta cool it. Your temper is making people nervous. You putting Taylor in the hospital, you know that ain’t right. But we stood by you. You go pissing off guys like Harrison and Adams, they ain’t gonna stand by you no more.”

  Reluctant, Craig nodded. “You’re right, man. I just can’t seem to hold it together. I just lose it.”

  “You better try.” Cliff gazed at him earnestly. “You got to. Otherwise, the big dogs will toss you off the force.”

  “Yeah.”

  Cliff patted Craig’s cheek with affection. “Hang tough, bro.”

  He held out his hand, and Craig slapped his palm against Cliff’s, then gripped his fingers as Cliff pulled him close in a quick man hug. “See you.”

  “Be good, baby,” Cliff told him with a grin, then headed out of the locker room to begin his patrol.

  “I am good, baby,” Craig responded, hearing Cliff’s laughter as the door closed behind him.

  Chapter Seven

  “You don’t have to,” Taylor said.

  Kane grumbled something under his breath she couldn’t understand, then commented aloud, “I know. I don’t have to do anything. I want to.”

  He accompanied her across the lobby to the front door, the clerk on duty not even bothering to glance up from his book. Outside in the cool night air, Taylor thought of Craig out prowling the streets in his cruiser, abusing the power and authority the badge he wore gave him. Her left arm throbbed dully with every beat of her pulse, and she hoped she still had one or two pain killers left.

  Pulling her keys from her pocket, Taylor clicked the remote that unlocked her minivan. It beeped, the lights flashing briefly in the still darkness.

  “How will you get back here from my house?” she asked.

  “I’ll figure something out.”

  She had told Kane her story as he listened, drinking his beer, his pale blue eyes cold as she spoke of Craig’s abuse over the last year since she and the twins had moved in with him. She found him a patient and sympathetic listener who asked the occasional question.

  Now he insisted upon accompanying her home, as though Craig waited there to break her arm and her ribs as well as her teeth. His answer to her protest was curt. “I’m making sure you get home safe. That’s the end of it.”

  Taylor decided his rather old-fashioned sense of protecting the fairer gender was both quaint and adorable. And when she offered to let him drive, he flushed a bright pink before admitting he didn’t know how to drive a car. Thus, he sat in the front passenger seat as she got in behind the wheel and carefully steered the minivan toward home with one hand.

  Taylor glanced sidelong at him as he gazed forward through the windshield. His hawk nose and fierce eyes glowed a faint green in the dash’s lights. “Thank you fo
r letting me unload on you.”

  His full lips quirked, and now he didn’t look quite so savage. “You’re welcome.”

  “It’s nice to have a friend to talk to,” she went on. “My mom helps, but, well, she’s my mom.”

  “I know,” he replied, his tone soft. “I need a friend, too.”

  “Then I’ll return the favor and let you unload on me.”

  Kane grinned. “I’ll let you.”

  In comfortable silence, Taylor drove toward her neighborhood, feeling glad she had gone to Kane. She almost didn’t, as she barely knew him. But, in talking herself into going to his hotel, she considered that any guy who steps up to save a woman from being taken from a bar by three men had to have decency and integrity.

  “Are the children with your mother?” Kane asked.

  “Yeah.” Taylor’s sore arm rested in her lap, and she took her right hand from the wheel long enough to gently rub it. “After Craig has had a go at me, I will sometimes ask her to take them. If it’s bad enough.”

  “And it’s bad enough?”

  She nodded. “I don’t like taking the heavy pain killers when they’re with me. I can’t trust I’ll wake up if they need me.”

  “You’re a good mother, Taylor.”

  “Thanks.” She sent him a quick smile. “What about you? Are you a father?”

  “No.” Kane gazed out the passenger window. “Maybe someday.”

  “You want kids?”

  He eyed her in surprise. “Doesn’t everybody?”

  “Not necessarily,” Taylor replied with a light laugh. “There are lots of people who happily go through life without kids.”

  “Oh. Well, I do. When the time is right.”

  But Taylor thought she saw a bleakness in his eyes and the set of his mouth. As though he considered his dream of having kids would never happen. She had reached her neighborhood, a quiet subdivision with access to a pool and a Nazi commander for a HOA president.

  She parked in her driveway, gazing at the comfortable three-bedroom house with a fenced backyard and a neatly mowed lawn. “Home.”