The third book in the Treasure of Paragon series, MANHATTAN DRAGON, takes place in New York and features Rowan. Turn the page to read an excerpt from MANHATTAN DRAGON, coming late 2019.
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Manhattan Dragon
The Treasure of Paragon Book 3
Please enjoy this excerpt from MANHATTAN DRAGON, book 3 in the Treasure of Paragon series, coming in 2019. Join my VIP list at https://www.genevievejack.com/newsletter/ to be notified when the preorder becomes available.
Chapter One
She was supposed to be dead.
Rowan felt remarkably spry for a corpse. But then, she’d died multiple times since coming to America over three hundred years ago. New identities were necessary for an immortal. Every so often Rowan would shed her skin like a snake and start over with a new last name, a new address, a new life. It was easier in New York than most cities. The city that never slept rarely slowed down to notice one mysterious woman with unfinished business.
She wasn’t a thief. But Rowan came to steal.
A dragon was born with a certain set of instincts. Keen observation was one of them. A natural affinity for anything rare and valuable was another. For example, Rowan had spotted the blue teardrop-shaped diamond around Camilla Stevens’s neck from across the gallery where she served as curator—an example of her keen observation skills. Understanding that the stone was, in fact, the six-carat Raindrop of Heaven diamond, sold at auction recently for $1.2 million? That was her talent for recognizing the rare and valuable.
Neither of these instincts explained why she was sneaking up the path to the white brick mansion in the Hamptons with an enchanted lock pick in her pocket. That had more to do with her history as an exiled princess of Paragon than her innate abilities. She’d witnessed her brother’s murder at the hands of her uncle before she was cast into this world. Rowan had no patience for corruption and what the wealthy Gerald Stevens and his wife Camilla had done made them the exact type of elitist scum that drove Rowan to distraction.
For a human, playing Robin Hood in the Hamptons would be a ticket to the slammer. The place was crawling with security. And there was only one main road in and out of this property. But humans couldn’t make themselves invisible. Nor could they fly.
Besides, there was no better alibi than being dead.
The night hummed a familiar tune. Crickets called to each other like lovers from the grasses, the waves brushed the beach in a soft caress behind her and a warm spring breeze off the Atlantic rustled the branches of the hawthorn trees that grew along the main drive.
She had it on good authority that Gerald had moved the stone here after her first attempt on it. She’d been so close then but she’d gotten careless. In the end, it had been easier to get caught and recycle herself than deal with the fallout of disappearing in front of dozens of eyes. She wouldn’t have that problem tonight.
“Thank you, Harriet,” she murmured as she slid the metal file into the lock of the french doors at the back of the Stevenses’ home. It was a sophisticated lock. Stevens was a real estate developer and was no dummy when it came to home security. But security systems had their limitations. For example, most weren’t able to record an invisible intruder or detect a lockpick charmed with ancient Traveler magic.
The door parted like the lips of an eager lover and she slipped into the dark interior. No alarm. No dog. That was fortunate. A few lights were on but she knew no one was home. Gerald and Camilla were hosting one of the biggest political fundraising events in the city that evening. How could you effectively bribe your way into rezoning the city if you didn’t consistently line the pockets of your political allies?
Fucking asshole.
The gem practically sang to her from the master bedroom on the second floor. It was time to save the jewel from he Stevenses’ filthy hands.
She trailed down the hall, allowing her invisibility to fade to conserve energy. She’d need it for the journey home. The hardwood creaked beneath her footsteps.
Rowan paused outside the bedroom. A delicious scent she’d never smelled before met her nose, sandalwood and dark spice. She breathed deeply. Her eyes rolled back in her head. What the hell was that?
A shiver traveled through her body straight to her core. Whatever it was, she wanted to roll in it. She made a note to find out where Gerald Stevens bought his cologne. It couldn’t be Camilla’s. It was too masculine. Too heady. It took effort to pull herself together but she managed to slip into the master bedroom and refocus on the task at hand. The diamond wouldn’t steal itself.
The room was a white-walled wonder with decor that belonged in the museum of modern art. At its center, a bed the size of a barge was flanked by twisted wire sculptures Rowan knew were worth more than most people’s yearly salary. No doubt they were paid for in cash. People like the Stevenses loved to use art as a way to hide their wealth from the taxman.
Once she oriented herself, she found the door Harriet had described and had to smile at the Traveler’s accuracy. The best decision she’d ever made was to save her dear friend from tuberculosis in 1904 with a gift of her tooth. She’d never regretted binding herself to the powerful Traveler, whose psychic gifts and practical magic rivaled any witch’s.
The giant walk-in closet was built of cedar and had a convenient keypad on the drawer that served as a safe. Rowan held the lock pick against the keypad and watched the keys glow purple, one at a time. The magic showed her which numbers to push. The drawer popped open with a hiss, and there it was, the Raindrop of Heaven, twinkling up at her from a bed of blue velvet. She reached for it, her fingers caressing the cool facets of the diamond. The weight of it dropped into her pocket, along with the two matching earrings. Pure satisfaction curled her lips.
She closed the drawer and froze. The delicious smell was back, even stronger than before. She whirled to find a man standing behind her in the small space, big for a human, and all male. He scratched his jaw as he looked her over with eyes the color of melted caramel. He crossed his arms over the chest of his sport coat.
“Who the fuck are you?”
Detective Nick Grandstaff stared at the woman in the Stevenses’ closet and tried to decide if she was real or a lovely hallucination. He was leaning toward hallucination. After all, she was too perfect to be real. Only a figment of his imagination could strike all his personal erotic notes. Long, dark waves cascaded over her shoulders. Silky. Shiny. Touchable waves. When she turned and looked at him, her amber eyes were too big and beautiful to be human. And oh God, her curves. Curves for days. Curves that made his palms prickle to touch her.
“I’m a friend of Camilla’s,” Fantasy Woman said. She pushed a drawer closed with her hip. “She said I could borrow a pair of shoes.”
He snorted. Nick could hear the lie in her voice as clear as if the words came out of her mouth colored red. Whoever this woman was, she was up to no good.
“I wasn’t aware Camilla had any friends,” he said.
Fantasy Woman laughed through her nose as if she couldn’t help herself. He thought he might die from the thrill the sound sent through his body.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“Nick.” He frowned. She was supposed to be giving him information, not the other way around.
She inhaled deeply. Those amber eyes narrowed on him. Bedroom eyes. Goddamn she was sexy. “What are you?”
“Detective,” he mumbled. What the hell was with the oversharing? He mentally shook himself.
“Detective Nick.” Her gaze flicked down to his gun. “If you know what kind people Camilla and Gerald are, why are you here?” Again, she inhaled, leaning toward him. Did he stink? It had been a long night. He resisted the urge to sniff himself.
“Look, sweetheart, I’m on duty here. Security. You need to tell me your name and why you’re in Camilla’s closet, or I’m going to have to take you in.”
One of her
hands reached out to dance her blood-red nails across the tops of Camilla’s shoes. God damn, he could imagine how those nails would feel on his skin. Gently trailing down his chest. Digging into his back. He shifted, wishing he had something to hold in front himself. He needed a cold shower and to get his brain out of fantasyland. She hooked her fingers into a pair of black Louboutins.
Her ring flashed in the fluorescent lights. That thing was a monster. Anyone who could afford a ruby of that size didn’t need to be borrowing anyone’s shoes. She was close now, looking at him through her lashes, the shoes by her side.
“Easy enough to clear this up. I’ll give Camilla a shout.” He raised his phone to his ear.
In the blink of an eye, she was on him, her hand wrapping around his wrist. He lowered the phone.
“They’re shutting down the Children’s Center,” she said, her eyes wide.
“Huh?” All he could see was her lips. All that existed was her perfume, cherry blossoms and almond. His breath hitched.
“Camilla and Gerald. They’ve used their influence to have the community center building rezoned. They’re shutting it down. Turning it into apartments. Over a hundred needy kids use that facility. It’s a lifeline for some of them. It’s all they have.”
“I don’t know anything about that.” He planted his hand on the doorframe, boxing her in. “Wait for a minute. Tell me who you are and I’ll clear up this mess up with Camilla.” He suspected she wasn’t there for shoes, but he wished she was, wished there was a reason he could let her go and maybe get her number while he was at it.
She ducked under his arm and walked into the bedroom toward the doors to the balcony. Damn, she moved fast. He put his hand on his gun.
“Are you going to shoot me, Detective? For borrowing shoes?” Her full lips spread into a smile.
“I can’t let you leave with those. I’m responsible for guarding this house.” He drew the gun. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”
She set the shoes down on the bed and opened the doors to the balcony. The ocean breeze coasted in around her, delivering another dose of her heady scent. He raised his gun.
“You can’t get out that way, sweetheart.” His voice was thick. All gravel. “It’s going to be okay. Just tell me who you are.”
She backed onto the balcony. “I’m a ghost.”
Nick almost discharged his weapon. In the blink of an eye, his fantasy woman completely disappeared.
Acknowledgments
When I started writing Windy City Dragon, I was living through a Chicago area winter. The tension from the snow and the cold was with me every day and I started to view Tobias and Sabrina as two tightly coiled springs that longed to release toward each other. Both of them are headstrong and deeply burdened by their pasts. I love how Tobias and Sabrina grow toward each other in this novel and want to thank those who helped me bring their story to life.
Author TM Cromer, thank you for being a friend and a sounding board. This book is better for your input. Author Sara Whitney, thank you for your keen eye and clear wit and for challenging me when you knew I could do better. Your help is much appreciated.
Also, thank you to editor Anne Victory for helping me buff this manuscript to high shine. Your careful attention is a godsend.
And finally, thank you to the readers, bloggers, and reviewers who have made this series a success. I appreciate you and I hope you love this one as much as I do.
About the Author
USA Today bestselling author Genevieve Jack writes weird, witty, and wicked-hot paranormal romance and fantasy. Coffee and wine are her biofuel, the love lives of witches, shifters, and vampires her favorite topic of conversation. She harbors a passion for old cemeteries and ghost tours, thanks to her years attending a high school rumored to be haunted. Although originally from the Midwest, she adores the beaches of the southeast where she spends her days with her laptop and one lazy dog. Learn more at GenevieveJack.com.
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Books By Genevieve Jack
GENEVIEVE JACK
* * *
Knight Games Series
The Ghost and The Graveyard, Book 1
Kick the Candle, Book 2
Queen of the Hill, Book 3
Mother May I, Book 4
Logan, Book 5
* * *
Fireborn Wolves Series
(Knight World Novels)
Vice, Book 1
Virtue, Book 2
Vengeance, Book 3
* * *
The Treasure of Paragon
The Dragon of New Orleans, Book 1
Windy City Dragon, Book 2,
Manhattan Dragon, Book 3 (Coming Soon)
Windy City Dragon Page 27