His Blazing Passion: Real Men of Wildridge

by Kyle, Celia

  “Always worked fine in the past.”

  Damn, it was hard to concentrate with her bending over to look behind every grungy box and stained mattress. Best to join in the search, not only to get it over with faster, but to keep his eyes off her delicious rump.

  “Not on this guy,” she said, her tone growing brusque.

  “What do you mean?”

  Chelle stopped searching to fix him with a dark look, as if she was trying to decide how to tell him something. “You know how snake shifters can hypnotize their prey?”

  “Sure, but it only works on small animals they’re going to eat. Mice and shit.”

  She just stared at him.

  “Right?” he asked, worry starting to gnaw at the lower edges of his gut.

  “I wish,” she finally answered, “but this last time Danque was released after some seriously hard time, he came out…different.”

  “Different how?” Allon asked. This was the first he was hearing of any of this, and he hated being caught off guard, especially by Chelle. But this sounded like it went well beyond their little rivalry, so he listened carefully.

  “Ask the dragon he stunned the day he was released, and that was then. We’ve had reports he can keep his victims paralyzed much longer now, which indicates his abilities are getting stronger.”

  “Wait up. How is that even possible?”

  “No idea. The rest of the Skypoint team is trying to figure that out. So far the only thing we know is that when he went into the human prison he’d been sentenced to, he was a normal, scumbag snake shifter, but when get came out… He’s something entirely different now.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me any of this before?”

  Chelle simply winked and went back to searching for clues. Allon took a minute to digest this news as she finished up. Just as he’d predicted, they’d found nothing, but this information about Danque threw him for a loop. She waited patiently as he processed it all.

  “So…if he can paralyze a dragon—for any length of time—that would make him one seriously dangerous motherfucker.”

  “No shit, Sherlock. That’s why we need to take him by surprise and cuff him before he can shift and look at us or we’re dead. Why do you think it’s taken me so long to catch him?”

  “Just figured you weren’t as good at your job as I thought,” he teased, bumping her hip with his as they left the alley behind.

  * * *

  Fury rose like a plume of smoke within Chelle’s chest. Her hands slowly curled into tight, angry fists and her eyes narrowed down to slits as she glowered up at the roguishly handsome dragon. She was already dangling over the edge, annoyed by how long this assignment was taking and how slippery Danque had turned out to be. Nothing would have made her happier than to be done with this crap once and for all, to cash in her check and hit up her favorite spa. Maybe jet set to another country where her only obligations were to drink expensive champagne and drop big money in the designer shops between meals of fresh pasta and tomatoes.

  This had already dragged on much longer than she expected, and having to cope with an annoying, self-absorbed Conan-wannabe for this job was just icing on the shit cake. Despite her best efforts to comply with her employer’s edict, her thinly veiled anger was about to come thundering out of her in full force.

  He awakened the beast.

  Up went her hand, extending one long accusatory finger. Down went her shoulders as she squared up and puffed out her ample chest. She turned to Allon with such a fierce glare that she caught the quickest, faintest flicker of something akin to fear in his eyes.

  Good.

  She wanted him to fear her. Hell, she wanted everyone to fear her. It was much easier to inspire fear in others than love. Besides, love was a liability. It only made you weaker. It gave a person all kinds of brand new, raw vulnerabilities that some asshole criminal could exploit against her. But fear? Fear was an asset, just another tool in Chelle’s proverbial utility belt.

  “How dare you! Who the fuck you think you are, talking to me like that?”

  “Alright, calm down,” Allon groaned and rolled his eyes.

  Ooh.

  No.

  No, he did not.

  Chelle might as well have had steam spewing out of her ears.

  “Calm…” she sputtered furiously, blinking rapidly with the rage rising inside her. “Did you just tell me to calm down?”

  His eyes widened. “I…uh…”

  “Holy shit, you’re even dumber than I gave you credit for! First you insult me like I’m some noob or hack, when I’ve kicked your ass all over this case. And now you’re telling me to calm down? Boy, whatchyou been smokin’?”

  “I-I,” he stammered uselessly. “I was just kidding!”

  “Bullshit! You know how I know that, tough guy? Because you’re just like every other carbon-copy tough guy out there. You think you can talk down to me because I’m a woman. You think you’re the best of the best all because of that dangling bit of flesh between your thighs. You can’t fathom the idea that I might be better than you. I’ve worked my damn ass off twice as hard as you to get to where I am. People look at you and expect great things, but they automatically reduce me to the sum of my parts. They don’t see me as a legend yet, but mark my fuckin’ words, honey, they will someday very soon!”

  Allon held both hands up in surrender, leaning away from her. “Fine. You got me. I fucked up. I judged you incorrectly in the beginning. That’s on me, and I’m sorry. But let me assure you, I don’t see you that way anymore. I really was only giving you shit.”

  Chelle wasn’t sure if she should believe him and apparently her expression said so.

  “Listen, Chelle, I know how good you are at your job. Hell, that’s why you’re my only real competition. There’s nobody out there killing the game like we do. You don’t have to prove to me how good you are. I already know.”

  He sounded sincere enough, and having grown up with three older and larger brothers, she knew the big ones liked to tease when they thought they could get away with it. That’s how she’d learned to stand up for herself—sometimes a little too fiercely.

  “Yeah, well… You better.”

  “So…friends?”

  “Sure,” she mumbled as they started their canvass of the rest of the neighborhood.

  But she didn’t really mean it. Maybe for the moment, but not forever. As soon as this case was over, they’d go their separate ways and no doubt continue their little rivalry. As much as it would pain him to hear it, Allon wasn’t the most important man to this mission—Danque was. And she was bound and determined to track him down. That would to prove to Allon how wrong he really was.

  The more they searched the back alleys and sketchy shops surrounding the Halfway Inn, the more on edge Chelle became. Something in the air itself made everything look dirty. Wrong. Houses sagged, weeds grew wild everywhere, and even the air smelled putrid, like death.

  “I don’t like this place,” Allon put words to her feelings.

  Chelle nodded, glancing around. “Yeah. Me neither.”

  “It’s crazy, this job. It takes you to some of the filthiest, most rundown places on the planet, but the money you get at the end of it can take you to the best places.”

  “You can say that again. Sometimes that’s the only thing that gets me through. Just thinking about how I’m going to spend my money. Maybe that makes me shallow, but whatever. A girl’s gotta eat.”

  “Agreed.”

  “I probably shouldn’t have bothered knocking you out of the sky yesterday. I’m sorry for that.”

  A smile tweaked the corner of his lips. “I wish you hadn’t either because I’d have a sweet bonus sitting in my bank account right now. Apology accepted.”

  Chelle burst out laughing. “Dude, I wasn’t apologizing! If I’d sat back and waited for you to engage with Danque, I would have been able to sneak up on the slimy bastard before he could look me in the eyes. And then I would have that fat bank account. That
’s why I’m sorry.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “Yup. But it’s hard to find a worthy opponent these days, and you have the unique ability to keep me on my toes. As much as I loathe your guts, I’ve enjoyed our silly competition.”

  He looked as if he couldn’t decide if he should be flattered or insulted. “Um, thanks?”

  She stopped and turned to him. “Look, if I’d played that dirty yesterday, Danque would have shifted, giving him the chance to use those hypnotic eyes on you. I can tell you exactly what he would have done to you. He would have frozen you mid-flight, causing you to crash from the sky, which is extremely dangerous, even for beasts as strong as dragons.”

  Allon blinked as this piece of information sank in. “So you’re telling me you plowed into me like that to… save me?”

  She rolled her eyes and, without confirming or denying, turned to head back to his SUV. But she couldn’t get the image of him out of her head, looking at him in a new way that made his skin glow. Like he was surprised she had a conscience or something. Much to her surprise, she kind of liked it.

  “I’d better text Ragan to see if there have been any more hits on Jilleon’s card,” he said, changing the subject as he tapped his phone.

  By the time they reached his ride, Ragan had replied with a negative. Allon grumbled, but hurried to her side and opened her door before she could beat him to it. This time she didn’t mind the chivalry so much, giving him a smile as she climbed inside.

  “So, where to next?” he asked as he started the engine, ready to leave this shithole in the rearview mirror.

  “Well, I guess it’s time to try your idea of staking out the aunt’s house,” she said.

  What she didn’t say was that the thought of spending several hours cooped up with him in tight quarters didn’t sound so bad anymore.

  Chapter Seven

  Allon made his way across the coffee shop parking lot carrying a cardboard tray of coffees that was completely unbalanced. He caught the bag of danishes that fell off it without dropping a single cup. One of the less obvious advantages to having long arms. But when he reached the SUV, he wished for a third hand. Naturally, Chelle stared at him unhelpfully from the passenger’s side.

  He gave her a pointed look, but she only grinned at him instead of leaning over the console to open the door for him. Because of course. He tried thrusting his knee up at the handle, as if that would magically open the door, and that only got Chelle laughing at him. Allon huffed, set the tray of coffees on top of the SUV, and opened the door the normal way.

  “I’ll remember that next time it’s your turn to get stakeout snacks,” he grumbled as he climbed in and reached up to get the coffees from their perch.

  While he was doing so, Chelle’s hand darted out and snatched the bag of danishes. She peeked inside and scrunched her nose, arching a sharp eyebrow at Allon. He found it surprisingly cute, but he knew it usually preceded some kind of complaint.

  “The hell is this?” she demanded, turning the open bag to him as if that somehow explained the issue. “No crullers?” Her green eyes shot to the coffees before she seized hers and cracked the lid open to peer inside. “Not even a little whipped cream?”

  “Are you always so bitchy when someone buys you a meal?” he grumbled, catching himself altogether too late.

  Oh shit, he’d really stepped in it this time. And he couldn’t claim he was only joking, like he did after his snarky comment earlier. Any second now, a set of knuckles would slam into his jaw, and he deserved it. Only the pummeling never came. When he dared shoot a glance in Chelle’s direction, something akin to amusement danced in those mesmerizing eyes of hers.

  “Oh, so you think this…food, if you can call it that, is acceptable for a first date?” She tossed the bag onto the center console and brushed off her hands like they were contaminated. “Because, personally, I expect table service at a bare minimum.”

  He paused, a smile threatening to overtake him. The sudden flirting, if that’s what it was, caught him off guard, but he recovered quickly as he pulled out of the coffee shop’s parking lot.

  “White table cloth and candles type of gal, huh?”

  She snorted and rolled her eyes. “You think I’m a princess or something? Save that for my mom.”

  “I know, let’s hit a nice steakhouse and pop a bottle of wine or two. If we get a good window seat, we can watch out for Danque over six hours of a five-course meal and stuff ourselves with some red meat.”

  “Yeah, our bosses would love that,” she laughed, punching him in the arm good-naturedly.

  He chuckled and then turned an apologetic look at her. “Hey, sorry about that comment. It’s just been a tough twenty-four hours. I’m not used to getting my ass calmly handed to me over a conference table twice in one day. Makes me a little, uh, cranky.”

  To deflect from his discomfort, he jammed a hand into the danish bag and devoured half of one before she could even respond. If his mouth was full, he couldn’t admit any other embarrassing vulnerabilities.

  Chelle leaned back and kicked her boots onto the dash. Given her height, she folded herself up like a pretzel, but Allon was relieved to see she didn’t seem metaphorically bent out of shape.

  “Let me guess,” she said as she sipped on her coffee drink. “You like to be the hero. Pushing just hard enough to save the day but never stepping over the line so far as to earn a reprimand. Am I close?”

  “Uh…duh! I mean, we all got into this line of work because we like feeling like the hero, at least a little. Right?”

  She seemed amused, which he didn’t understand at all.

  “What? I’ve seen how you work, so don’t pretend like you don’t like the action.”

  “Oh, I like the action,” she crooned, allowing her gaze to drag down his body and back up again. “But I suppose we all have our own private motivations. Anyway, I get what you’re saying. I’ve had a rough month tracking Danque. I’m starting to think I could use a little normalcy, and if you knew me better, you’d know how weird that is.”

  “Define rough.”

  She hadn’t told him much about her trek across the country, hot on Danque’s trail, and he’d been dying to ask. This moment, sitting in a car on the way to stake out the fugitive’s aunt’s house seemed like the first time they were opening up to each other and revealing things they might otherwise hide. Now was as good a time as any to pry.

  She hesitated for a moment. “So, the first guy I tracked down was Danque’s dealer. Right? Obvious. Easy contact to get—just grease a few palms here and there and eventually someone says they saw him hanging around this guy’s turf or that one’s. I pay a visit to stake out the place and see if I can catch him myself. Eight hours kicking around that shit neighborhood and nobody shows. I even see a few people go up to the door and knock, no answer. Finally, I figure it’s time to check it out for myself.”

  Allon focused on driving the crazy LA roads, but he paid attention to every word of her story.

  “I shone a flashlight inside and saw the poor fucker on the couch, all messed up.” She shook her head but didn’t seem disturbed by whatever she’d seen. “He was still alive, but Danque had cleaned him out and beat the shit out of him for good measure. When the guy finally came to, he told me Danque didn’t even say a word, just walked in and started wailing on him. Poor dealer was a coyote, which seems like a fair match, but with Danque’s new powers, the guy didn’t stand a chance.”

  “Think Danque’s trying to cut in on his territory?”

  “No way,” she said firmly. “Not his MO, but considering his arrest record, dealing might be less likely to get him caught. He was just grabbing something to take the edge off while on the road, not to mention whatever cash the dealer had. Doubt he has much of either left. My coworkers don’t agree with me but I don’t think he really uses drugs a ton. I believe he thinks they’ll dull his abilities, and he likes those way too much.”

  Allon caught a tone at the end. “You sound
like you have personal experience.”

  Chelle let her head loll in his direction, her expression grim. “You could say that. But I got lucky. Real lucky. The kind of lucky that makes you think about going to church and thanking every god ever imagined for allowing you to live one more day. Or buying a lottery ticket.”

  Steel edged her voice, making it obvious this wasn’t a topic she liked discussing. He knew how that felt. Hell, every bounty hunter in the biz did. Every assignment was different, but they all held the potential to become a horror show. He guessed it was a little like soldiers returning from war and never talking about their tour in any kind of real detail—except with others who’d experienced it. Even so, he felt a surge of pride—no, honor—that she was sharing with him at all. As one did in such situations, Allon remained silent, giving her the space to recount as much or as little as she felt comfortable.

  With a sniff, she swallowed hard and launched into it. “Happened after the last bank robbery—Danque’s second since I started tracking him. Which doesn’t make me feel like tracker of the year. Know what I mean? I just thank my lucky stars that none of the civilians who were injured in those robberies died.

  “Anyway, I tracked him to the rock he was hiding under. Some shitty apartment in the Midwest he was sharing with some crackhead. Seems they got into a tiff just as I was heading upstairs to nail his ass to the wall.”

  “Jesus, that was bold.”

  Chelle shrugged. “I was getting a little desperate. He’d knocked over two banks on my watch. I just wanted it all to be over. You know? So I got a little daring and dressed up like a janitor. Put on a set of work clothes, throw your hair in a bun, and act like you know where you’re going, and you’d be surprised how few people bother you.”

  Allon had always thought that was the kind of thing people with forgettable faces did. Chelle’s face was far too beautiful to be anything close to forgettable, but he had to admire the sheer confidence it must have taken to do that.