Dragon Passion

by Amelia Jade

  He tried to move away, but the pain was too great. He had done his job, buying his team time to regroup and go on the attack. Justin was at peace with that. A smile blossomed on his face as he watched the blow slowly begin to descend.

  Death had come for him, and he embraced it.

  ***

  Then suddenly Madison was there, blood dripping from her clothing as she drove her fist into the back of the Agent’s skull.

  Surprise bloomed in the man’s eyes, and even as he fell forward over Justin he spun to face her, lashing out with curled fingers. His nails gouged her skin, leaving four long marks along her cheek, but it only seemed to enrage her further.

  She followed the man down, using her superior strength, speed, and agility to land on top of the Agent.

  Justin smiled even as the pain slowly began to recede from his body. The Agent might have enhanced strength. But Madison had enhanced everything. With only one target in front of her, he watched as she systematically destroyed him. She broke both his hands, then his arms. Cupped hands landed on his ears, blowing out his eardrums before she pulled back and slammed an open-bladed hand into his neck, crushing it beyond anything the Agent’s healing could repair before he choked to death.

  He rolled to his feet gingerly. Three, possibly four ribs were broken. He was bleeding profusely from his side and something in his head was out of place as well. In short, everything hurt.

  A body fell to the floor beside him as the others finished off the last Agent. Blood splashed up onto his pants, a morbid reminder of the duty he had—somehow—managed to avoid that day. His eyes were drawn to the human guard that lay crumpled next to the tunnel on the far side of the warehouse.

  The man had yet to move. Justin realized by his awkward positioning that the man wasn’t getting up again.

  Abruptly his stomach began to lurch, and he thought he was going to be sick.

  “Everything okay?” Jared asked as others rushed to tend to their fallen brethren.

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, shaking off his Alpha and motioning to Arianna and Andre. “How are they?”

  Jared grimaced. “Hurt bad, but they’ll make it. We got caught by surprise. That’s how they did so much damage. Turns out the shipping container wasn’t empty, and as we were finishing off the last of the original team, these three came out. Arianna and Andre were closest, so they took the brunt of the first hits.”

  Justin nodded, even now seeing Arianna sit up. Her side was a torn ruin, but as his leader had said, it didn’t look mortal. Ajax was hovering around her, trying to do everything for her even as she swatted at him, trying to tell him she would be okay in time.

  The sight of the pair of them, still clearly in love despite everything going on around them, reminded him of Shay and what he had discovered about her father.

  Pulling out his phone, he continued to watch as Andre and Arianna began to heal, looking better with every passing second. Although shifters healed fast, in a fight thirty seconds is a lifetime.

  “Room 606,” he said into the phone as the front desk of her hotel answered. There was a brief pause.

  “I’m sorry sir, but there are no guests in that room. The last one checked out an hour ago.”

  He froze. Shay had not mentioned anything about leaving. A sickening thought came to him.

  “Did Mr. Lyon or Mrs. Lyon check out?” he asked cautiously.

  Another brief pause.

  “It would appear Mr. Lyon was the one who checked out of the room sir. Now, sir, I really shouldn’t be giving you that sort of information. Is there anything else I can do?” The voice was that of a young man who had clearly realized after the fact that he shouldn’t have divulged that sort of thing.

  “No, that’s everything. Thank you very much,” he said and hung up.

  “We have a problem,” he said, turning to face Jared.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Shay

  Hours passed with nothing happening.

  She sat upright as the door unlocked with abrupt suddenness, startling her from her trance. There had been no noise to signify that someone was approaching.

  The door slid open and a man in a gray suit walked in, his strides smooth and even, barely making a noise. He was so light on his feet he practically floated. Her eyes were not drawn to his feet for long though as she looked up at his face.

  The man was completely bald, any remaining hair taken right down to the skin. What appeared to be a permanent leer was emblazoned upon his face. Worst of all though was the ugly red scar that started at his right eyebrow and ran up over his head, disappearing behind it.

  Bright blue eyes focused on her, watching the reactions playing over her face as she tried to contain her revulsion.

  “Who are you?” she spat out, trying to get around him and out the door.

  The security guard from earlier appeared with a little folding tray containing a pitcher of water and two glasses. His presence forced Shay to back farther into the room. The guard put the table down to the side, and then reached outside to grab two folding chairs. He swiftly opened them and then arranged everything so that the two chairs faced the door with the table between them.

  Then he left, closing the door behind him.

  Shay noted that he didn’t lock it.

  “Sit,” the man in the suit said simply, his voice compelling her to obey while at the same time presenting her with an undertone that threatened her if she didn’t do as he said.

  It was a powerful combination that she couldn’t resist.

  “Where is my father?” she asked, unwilling to completely submit to the sheer force of his will.

  “Manners,” the man said, giving her a wink with his scarred eye.

  Shay shuddered, ignoring his offer of having a drink first.

  “We shall drink first,” he said. “Choose your glass.”

  Her angry glare seemed to just wash over him as he continued to stare at her, waiting for her answer. When it became apparent he wasn’t going to cave anytime soon, Shay picked a glass at random and waited while he filled it.

  “Cheers,” he said, raising his glass to her and taking a long sip of the ice water.

  Shay held out for a moment longer, but the cool liquid was calling to her after being trapped in the room for so long. She knew the glass might be drugged, but at that point, they had her at their mercy anyway. What would the point in drugging her be? If they wanted her dead, she’d be dead already.

  “Better,” the unknown man said. His voice was clipped but cultured at the same time. As if he’d gone to a school that forced him to speak a certain way, but he’d rebelled against that later in life, only to find out he couldn’t rid himself of it completely. It was an odd combination that grated against her ears each time he spoke.

  “Where is my father?” she asked again, ignoring her own safety.

  “I was hoping that you might be able to tell us that, Ms. Lyon,” he said, crossing his right leg onto his left as he spoke, trying to affect an air of nonchalance and failing miserably.

  “I haven’t heard from him in months. Why the hell would I have come and sneaked in to your base if I knew where he was?” she asked, staring at the man like he was an idiot.

  The stranger worked his jaw, red flashing across his cheeks for a brief moment.

  He didn’t think of that. Not too smart this one, is he? Yet obviously he’s somehow in charge. Perhaps by brute force?

  “Your father was…out on a mission for us,” he said after a short pause. “That mission, unfortunately, did not pan out as planned. But he is currently unaccounted for.”

  Shay cringed internally. “Is that code for…dead?” she asked nervously.

  The man smiled, the action taking his permanent leer and disfiguring it into something horrific, a grinning visage of death incarnate straight out of some deranged artist’s nightmare.

  “No, but if he doesn’t report soon, or if he fails us again, it is likely he will be terminated.”

&nb
sp; “Like, from the company?” she asked, immediately realizing how childish and blind she sounded.

  The man just grinned his grin.

  Right. I knew he meant kill.

  “Who the hell are you people?” she asked.

  The man pulled something from his pocket before he replied, but didn’t show it to her right away. “If this man is who I think he is, then you already know who we are.” He held up a picture, showing Justin in the lobby of her hotel.

  “How?” It was the only word she could get out.

  “We took the liberty of removing your things from your hotel room. Apparently your friend here did not take too kindly to that. Now, who is he?”

  Something clicked in Shay’s brain, lining everything up so that things made sense.

  “No,” she whispered, appalled at what her conclusion meant. “You’re the Agency?”

  The repulsive grin grew larger, threatening to rip his face in two, disfiguring him even more. “So he is who I thought. Excellent. Now I have a face.”

  But Shay was too overwhelmed to hear it. Another thought was pounding at her brain, making her sick to her stomach.

  Her father was working for them. For a group interested in wholesale genocide of an entire species.

  She turned to the side and dry heaved, unable to contain her disgust. The room spun around her, made worse as the man in the suit began to laugh. Shay was at her breaking point. Everything that she had thought was on an upward spiral had come crashing down in the space of a few hours. Most of it was because of her own stupidity, but there was no lamenting that now.

  Something inside of her creaked and groaned as it reached the limit of how far it could stretch. She either went over the edge and lost all control, or—

  Her head snapped up violently as she rounded on the bald man, whose laughter died abruptly. Shay wasn’t ready to break, not today. Inside she felt herself snap back, pulling away from the abyss that had threatened to swallow her. No, she had gotten herself into this mess, and she was the only one who could get herself out.

  There had to be a way, but to find it, Shay would have to remain alert and focused.

  “You have more spirit than I anticipated,” the man said, calmly meeting her glare and letting it wash over her.

  Still, Shay noticed a modicum of respect filter into his gaze as she didn’t back down this time.

  “But there are ways to deal with that,” he chortled.

  “I’ll never do anything to help you,” she spat.

  “Perhaps not for your own sake, no,” he said with a nod. “I will give you that. But what about for your father?” He paused. “Or your lover?”

  Shay’s eyes blazed with hatred, and right then she wished for the strength that Justin possessed so that she could leap across the distance between them and squeeze his neck until it collapsed.

  “So here’s what you’re going to do,” he said, as if unaware of the look she was giving him. “You will call your father, and tell him to come in. If he does, then I’ll let the two of you live.”

  “And if not?” she grated out, her jaw clenched tightly, knuckles white as they gripped the glass in her hand.

  “You aren’t stupid,” he said condescendingly. “You figure it out.” He rose to leave.

  “Why do you care about whether he comes in or not?” she asked suddenly, something not quite adding up.

  Mr. Gray contemplated that question for a moment before answering. “There are things that we aren’t ready for your little group to find out yet. Things your father may or may not know. It is a risk we cannot take.” He smiled happily. “I’m sure you understand.”

  “He’s going to come for me,” she said, trying to sound intimidating.

  “Good. My trap will be better this time,” her captor said. “Now, shall we make that phone call?”

  Shay just rolled her eyes. “You can’t kill me until you use me to bring him in or expose him. You can’t kill him until I get you in touch with him and get him to reveal himself. Either way, neither of us are in danger. Why the hell would I just give in?” she said, snorting in derision.

  The backhand came out of nowhere.

  Shay flew across the small room. The glass shattered as it hit the wall, having been flung from her hand. Shards peppered her face, opening a dozen cuts as she bounced off the wall and landed on the chair, the flimsy piece of furniture snapping apart under her. Parts of the plastic jabbed at her, gouging her more.

  Something in her shoulder throbbed with pain from where it had made contact with the wall first, and her fingers tingled in response.

  “Do not mistake my preference for manners as weakness,” he said, then kicked her solidly in the ribs, driving the air from her lungs.

  Shay tried to suck down huge gulps of air, but the muscles weren’t responding to her commands. Her eyes bulged in terror as she realized she couldn’t breathe, that nothing was getting to her screaming lungs. She curled up into a ball, trying desperately to recover.

  Then suddenly her muscles relaxed and sweet, cool air rushed into her body as her chest heaved with the exertion of replacing everything that had been driven from it.

  “When you change your mind,” he said, “just knock on the door three times.” He stepped out of the door and it began to close. “Don’t take too long,” he said sweetly, and then he was gone.

  I am in a world of shit.

  The thought echoed through her brain as she rocked back and forth on the floor, tears streaming down her face from the pain of his blows.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Justin

  His long legs took him from one side of the lobby to the other. There he paused, turned on the balls of his feet, and strode back across the marble floor to the other side. His eyes continually flicked to the long, dark brown counter where the front desk agent was animatedly talking on the phone for what seemed like the tenth time.

  Something was wrong. Shay was gone, and there was no trace of where she had disappeared to. A male with short-cut brown hair and dressed in black police-looking clothing had shown up at the front desk with her bags and checked out of the room. That was all he had been able to get out of the man at the front desk by being polite.

  Now the harried-looking middle-aged man was frantically talking to his boss, who he had finally gotten on the phone after a lengthy delay. Apparently his permission was needed to allow access to the security tapes. Justin didn’t care as long as they let him look at the tapes, and soon. Otherwise he would take matters into his own hands if he had to. Not that breaking down a door and intimidating a few annoying stuck-up humans wasn’t something that would bring a smile to his face, but he knew it wouldn’t necessarily get him any farther. So he was playing the polite game.

  For now.

  “Sir,” the employee said, waving his hand to get Justin’s attention.

  He walked smoothly, not stopping until he was directly in front of the man, with only the small counter between the two of them. Then he grinned, baring his teeth as much as he could.

  “Yes?” he asked with false politeness.

  “I-I, um,” he sputtered, forced to crane his neck way up as Justin drew himself up to his full height.

  “Can I see the videos now?” he asked, taking pity on the man in hopes of hurrying things along.

  “Yes, yes of course,” he said, “right this way.”

  Justin had already located the security room during his pacing, and he walked there quickly, forcing the man to jog to keep up.

  “Martin?” the man said, opening the door with a swipe of his keycard.

  “Yes?” the bored, elderly man sitting behind a bank of video screens said.

  “I need you to show this man the video logs for today. From roughly 2:20 this afternoon in the lobby, to be more specific.”

  “Okay, boss,” the man said in his slow drawl, reaching forward and tapping a few keys.

  Justin noted that the man spoke slow and seemed unconcerned, but the confidence with which
his fingers used the system indicated that he actually knew his job quite well. In a few seconds four different feeds had appeared on the centermost screens. Another few taps synced them up, and then he hit play.

  Justin watched the front desk intently, trying to spot his quarry. It was a busy hotel, and several men approached the counter as he watched, all of them in some form of black, whether a suit or a jacket.

  His phone buzzed.

  “There!” he said as a man walked to the counter, carrying several bags. Justin recognized the purple one. He had seen it in her room. “Can we backtrack him at all to get a better view of his face?”

  The security man, intrigued now, sat forward and tapped his keys. He rewound each tape until he located the man, and then followed him until he got the best shot of his face.

  “Sorry sir,” he said, still in his slow drawl. “Doesn’t seem to be much to go on. Appears he kept his head down most of the time.”

  “Shit,” he swore, swatting at his pocket as it buzzed again.

  This time it continued to buzz.

  Phone call.

  He pulled it from his pocket as he leaned in to look carefully at the screens, trying to pull any identifying features from the man, but all he got was short dark hair, medium-build, classic Agency black uniform.

  “What?” he snapped into the phone, about to ask the security guard to begin rewinding video to see if they could catch the guy entering the hotel.

  “Something important has come up,” Jared said into the phone.

  “I don’t have time—”

  “You had better make time.” The icy tone with which Jared used to interrupt him made Justin stand upright in the little room. Whatever it was, it was serious.

  “What is it?” he asked, stepping away from the guard.

  “We have an Agent in custody.”

  “What?!” he exclaimed in surprise. No Agent had ever been taken alive.

  “He showed up at one of our safe houses and asked to be taken in,” Jared said.

  Dumbfounded, Justin stared at the security guard, his jaw needing to be swept from the floor.