by Lee French
“I don’t know where she is. There’s not much more to tell.”
Violet watched while Jayce picked up Will and carried him inside. “Jasmine, honey, “ she whispered, “We’ll find you. I swear on my Grannie’s grave. Whatever it takes, we’ll find a way to get you free.”
Dragons In Chains
Prologue — Maisie
Summer in Honolulu meant work, from morning to night. Maisie didn’t mind. Though exhausting, her job was fun. At the moment, she sat wit the other girls in the show, rubbing her feet and grabbing what rest she could in the half hour break between performances. Normally, she stayed in costume all day. After an incident during the last show, she wore only her bikini and leafy wrist- and ankle-band, with flowers woven into her black hair.
“Maisie, what happened?” Dave, the stage manager, leaned in and scowled at her.
“Talk to Rob,” she snapped.
“I did. He said you flubbed the sequence.”
Her nostrils flared with irritation and she narrowed her eyes. “He’s a damned liar. He missed a step and I tripped over him. That ass is just lucky I was able to recover without falling on my butt.”
“I saw it,” Linda confirmed, nodding. She’d been directly behind them both as part of the chorus. “It was Rob’s fault.”
“When you go back and tell him we said so,” Maisie sneered, “you can let him know I’m still not going to sleep with him, no matter how many times he asks.”
Dave rolled his eyes. “You guys need to keep the personal stuff off the stage.”
“Tell him, not me.” Maisie stood up and jabbed a finger in the air. “I don’t want any ‘personal stuff’ with him. Just because he gets to grab my ass on stage doesn’t mean he gets access to it any other time.”
Dave shook his head and huffed the sigh of a man who doesn’t care but has to deal with it anyway. “You’re not making my job any easier.”
“I’m not the one causing a problem, Dave, he is.” She held up her grass skirt so he could see the damage to the side. Two inches of leaves had been ripped. No amount of shimmying could hide that. “You want to do something about that, go right ahead. I’d be happy to break in a new partner. Right now, though, I need a new skirt because Rob stepped on it.” At least they wore swimsuits under these things. Otherwise, she would have been flashing the audience the whole time. A quarter of them probably wouldn’t have minded, but it was a family show: bikinis for Dad, shirtless men for Mom, fire and drums for the kids.
Dave held up his empty hand—the other had a clipboard—in a placating gesture. “Fine, fine, whatever. Just— Whatever.” He waved it off and left quickly.
“Rob needs to get fired,” Linda said. “He’s such an asshole.”
Maisie threw her damaged skirt in the bin for that purpose. Someone would try to salvage it later. Fortunately, she had a backup skirt, and pulled it out of her locker. “No argument here.”
“He’s cute, though.” Amy sighed, a dreamy look in her eyes.
Maisie snorted. “You’re welcome to him.”
“Hey, do you want to go to the beach tomorrow, Maisie?”
Looking over at Linda, Maisie shrugged. “Sure, I guess. Not like I have anything better planned.”
“You know he’s only asking you out because you keep turning him down.” Amy still had that look. It would be annoying if she wasn’t nice.
Maisie snorted. “Meaning what? I should just sleep with him and get it over with? No thanks. He is so very much not what I’m looking for. Like I said, he’s all yours.”
“What’s the matter, Maisie?” Bunny’s voice held a generous dollop of fake mocking. “Don’t you like a guy who’s full of himself?” The group of women fell into amused giggles and laughter. They all knew the break would be over before they knew it, though, and set to the task of adjusting costumes and makeup and hair. Chatter turned to plans for tomorrow. Maisie and Linda would hit up one of the tourist beaches and spend the day prowling for beefcake to watch.
Soon enough, they moved out to assemble for the show in the garden setting, around and on an artificial pond. Maisie was the star attraction: the best dancer of the group, and the one Hawaiian girl with icy blue eyes that made her a bird of paradise among the hibiscus. As for the men, none of them stood out among the muscles and six-packs. Rob stepped up beside her, ready to heft her onto his shoulders as soon as the announcer introduced their act.
“Bitch. That was your fault.”
“It was not, and you know it, asshole. Watch your damned feet this time or I’ll improvise kicking you into the water.”
“Whatever.”
“Go to hell.” She had more to say, but Rob grabbed her and she forced herself to smile. He picked her up and carried her out on his shoulder, both of them playing the part of lovers for the audience. While she shimmied her hips and swung various props to show off her flexibility and skill, the other women danced around her. Three men banged sticks on drums. Another five danced with fire. Rob spotted her on jumps and flips, and lifted her and carried her around.
The last show of the day started in the twilight hours, making the fires flung around by the men more dramatic. Maisie always liked the ones in the dark and near-dark better—it felt magical. When it ended, everyone shucked their costumes and makeup to get out quick. Much to her annoyance, Rob stood by her bicycle where she’d left it locked up for the day, under a freestanding fake tiki torch. She could get a car, but then she’d have to figure out where to park it and pay for the gas. The buses didn’t go close enough to her parents’ house to be worth it.
“I guess ‘beat it, asshole’ isn’t explicit enough?” The way he stood blocked access to her bike, but only from one side. She stifled a gulp and went around him to unlock the chain.
He scowled with his arms crossed over his chest. “What’s your problem?”
Glancing around, she thought she caught sight of a security guard walking past the alley. It made the stabs of apprehension in her gut ease a tiny bit. “My problem? I’m not the one with the problem. Let go of my bike.”
Rob spent all day, five days a week, supporting her weight, lifting her, and throwing her around. She had no chance of breaking the grip he had on the top tube of her bike. “Not until you agree to go out with me.”
Those words made her blood run cold. She stared at him, knowing she looked scared, and could see in his face that he knew it, too. And he liked it. “Is this seriously the only way you can get a date?” It came out much less scornful and much more breathless than she wanted it to.
Smirking, he grabbed her arm with his other hand, gripping it tightly. “I’ll take that as a yes. Let’s go.”
Stunned by the idea he intended to haul her off whether she wanted to go or not, her mind blanked. He yanked her away from the bike. It took her three stumbling steps to finally form the coherent thought that he wouldn’t stop. Something stupid popped into her head as she glanced back, and she said it. “Someone’s going to steal my bike, asshole.”
He glanced back and dismissed the matter. “I’ll buy you a new one.”
There had to be a way to get him to let go for a second so she could run for it. Her panicked thoughts chased themselves until the answer stared her in the face. Maisie opened her mouth and screamed. Instead of letting go, he pulled her close and covered her mouth. She bit his finger and jabbed her elbow at his ribs. He still didn’t let go. Why didn’t he let go? She kicked and squirmed and made as much noise as she could through his hand. Someone would hear it. Someone would stop him, or at least call the cops.
When he reached the car, he thumped her against it, making sure to hit her head. “Shut up,” he snarled. “Jesus, just shut up already.”
The impact knocked her senseless long enough for him to let go and hit her across the face. Her head snapped to the side with the sharp blow and she crumpled to the ground, curling up to protect herself from more and whimpering. More would come, she knew it, and if she tried to crawl away, it would be worse. After a few seconds
of tense waiting, she looked up to see Rob lying limp on the ground, face down, two white men in dark suits standing nearby like sentinels. A third crouched down and checking him over. The fourth stepped close and crouched beside her.
“Are you alright, miss?” They all wore sunglasses, and she saw the little cord going down from his ear and into his collar. He offered her a hand.
For a moment, she stared at it in shock. “More or less?”
“Is he your boyfriend?”
Shaking as she rose to her unsteady feet, she gripped his hand for support. “No.” He’d shoved a syringe full of clear liquid into her upper arm and pushed the plunger down. She blinked, suddenly dizzy.
“Good.” She saw him pull the syringe out and felt numbness seeping across her body. Before she could cry out again, she collapsed into his arms and everything went black.
Chapter 1
“Remind me why I thought this was a good idea.”
“You never said it was a good idea, you just agreed to do it.”
Bobby snorted and shook his head. “Least I know my expectations been met.”
Stephen chuckled. “The plan is going swimmingly so far.”
“That’s for sure.” Bobby looked around the holding cell they occupied, not remotely afraid of the four punks they shared it with. A month or so ago, he would’ve been sitting on the edge of the bench, worried about offending or annoying guys like that. Now, they couldn’t hurt him even if they all had guns stuffed in their pants. If they tried anyway, the vampire sitting next to him wouldn’t let them. “How long you reckon before a suit shows?”
One of the punks stood up and cracked his knuckles, radiating menace. His Chicago accent sounded weird to Bobby, even after being around so many different people from so many different places; Bobby’s own Southern drawl would always be what sounded ‘normal’ to him. “Nobody cares about your stupid plan or whatever.”
Two of the others egged him on with guttural noises of approval. The fourth guy sat apart and huddled on himself, watching with keen interest.
Bobby and Stephen both turned to look at the guy, neither of them impressed. His black tank top showed off muscles and tattoos, probably from gang affiliation. The guy’s baggy jeans had a studded leather belt holding them lower than Bobby liked to wear his, but at least covering most of his dingy white boxers. The guy’s hair was slicked back with a black and white pattern bandanna wrapped around his brow.
“Bobby, would it be a problem to add assault to the charges against us?” Stephen addressed him without looking away from the punk.
“So long as you don’t kill him,” Bobby shrugged, “don’t see why.”
“I’m not afraid of you,” the punk said with a jut of his chin. He took another step forward and held his fists up.
Since Bobby could only see the back of Stephen’s head, he had no idea what the punk saw on his face. Whatever it was, the guy paled and gulped. So did the other two. “Your survival instincts are a little dull.”
“Oh yeah?” The punk gulped again. He took one step back and lowered his hands, yet kept the defiant stance. “You talk tough, but I bet you got nothing.”
“Wrong answer.” Bobby sighed, because it didn’t have to be like this. He turned away so he only had to hear the thump and crack as Stephen pursued some small violence. “Don’t hurt him bad, neither,” he chided. “Cops’ll forgive a little scrapping, but they ain’t so kind when somebody needs to go to the hospital.”
Stephen sat back down beside him, no sign of anything having happened from him. The two other guys, though, had to pick their bold friend up off the floor. “It’s not my fault the floor is bare concrete.”
“That there is an excuse.”
“Excuse, explanation, tomayto, tomahto, whatever.”
“If’n this weren’t a jail cell, I’d be real disappointed, but they probably got something coming to them.”
Stephen laughed again. “I expect we’ll see a suit in no more than four hours from when they processed us,” he peered up at the clock out of reach beyond the bars, “so anytime now.”
Bobby glanced up at the clock, too, wondering what Lily was doing right now. Half past midnight in Chicago meant half past eleven in Colorado. She ought to be asleep. Unless, of course, he decided to be an ass of an idiot who ran off without a word or note to be a stupid hero. At least he was doing something. Jasmine and ten others were still prisoners, and he meant to find them and free them. No matter how stupid this idea might be, it was better than sitting around at the farmhouse, waiting for a clue or something they’d never get.
The door into the area opened, and Stephen smirked. “Right on time.”
Bobby turned to see two suits, both looking straight at him and led by the black lady cop that stuck the two of them in here. The one in front paused and said something into his cuff while the other one kept going. “Mitchell and Cant, on your feet, give me your hands. What happened to Ibanez?” No one said anything. Stephen and Bobby dutifully presented their hands and got them slapped with cuffs. “Mmhmm,” she said with narrowed eyes.
“It’s nice to finally meet you, Mitchell.” The suit grabbed Bobby roughly by the arm.
“Am I famous or something? Would you like a signed photograph?”
“I’d like one,” Stephen said cheerfully. The other suit grabbed him and hustled him out right behind Bobby.
As they reached the front door of the station, Bobby lifted his hands. “Guys, you know as well as we do the cuffs are kinda silly. If’n we wanted to get gone, we wouldn’t be here, don’t act like you don’t know that. It’s insulting.”
The suit glanced at his partner, then they nodded to each other. They took the cuffs off and tossed them off to the side without bothering to try to aim for a cop. “What do you want?” Bobby’s suit asked as they pushed through the door and into the Chicago night, his hand still firmly gripping Bobby’s bicep.
“We’re tired of running, of the bickering and stuff.”
“Whatever it is about us, it must make the women especially bitchy. It was fine at first. But the girls,” Stephen said with a roll of his eyes, “it’s like trying to deal with angry cats.”
“Seriously not worth it.” Bobby nodded his agreement. “You don’t stick us with nothing, we come willingly, somebody on your team gets to pitch us a deal for what y’all want from us. We don’t like it, we walk away, we leave y’all alone so long as you leave us alone. That’s the deal.”
The suits stared at them with identical blank expressions. Several long seconds later, one jerked a thumb at the standard issue black SUV illegally parked in front of the station. “We’ll have to clear that first. In the meantime, get in the car.”
“One of us could just talk to your handlers directly,” Stephen offered. “It would save time.”
“Fat chance,” his suit snorted. “Get in the car.”
They got in the car while both suits stayed outside to use their phones. “I ain’t sure whether to be insulted or not that they only sent two guys to pick us up.” Bobby popped a single dragon off his thumb. It zoomed around the car, looking for anyone hidden in the shadows of the back. It found nothing and returned to him.
“Here’s hoping they don’t just stick us with something and shoot us in the head.”
“D’ya think that would kill you?”
“No idea. Not keen to find out.” Stephen sat back casually, adopting the relaxed persona of a Very Important Person waiting to be driven by his chauffeur.
Bobby tapped the buckle of the seatbelt, trying to decide if wanted to put it on or not. “You reckon they figure it don’t matter how many they send?”
“Probably. Why risk four when you can risk just two and get the same result?” Stephen shrugged. “I think they’re just goons anyway.”
“Should we ask about that old guy?”
“As soon as we mention the name, they’ll know we know something and stop treating us like dumb but dangerous kids. We’ll become smart dangerous kids,
which is kind of a scary thing to old white guys used to being in control.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
Stephen rolled his shoulders again. “We’re here to be agreeable because we’re tired of running and tired of bitches telling us what to do. Just remember that and we’ll be golden.”
Bobby nodded. That was the plan, along with hoping they’d be taken wherever the others could be found and freed, or someplace they could find records to tell them where that might be. As plans went, it lacked subtlety, nuance, and greatness. He’d gotten tired of waiting for a better one.
The suits opened the doors and climbed into the front seats. “Your terms are acceptable.” The one in the driver’s seat started up the car.
His statement relaxed tension in Bobby’s shoulders he hadn’t previously been aware of. “Where we going, then? I hope it ain’t Salt Lake City.” He ignored Stephen’s small cough and elbow nudge.
“No. We’ll meet someone in Indianapolis. It’s about a three hour drive, give or take.”
Bobby let out his own tiny cough, hoping to cover his surprise. How many locations did these guys have? More importantly, these suits didn’t need to know how fast the two of them could fly, and didn’t need to know how interested both of them were in the location. “Don’t suppose we could stop for a bite to eat on the way? I’m starving.”
Stephen snorted. “You’re always starving.”
“I’m a growing boy.” Bobby grinned. “I ain’t picky, neither. Anything’s fine.”
“I, on the other hand, am extremely picky.”
The suit in the passenger seat turned around with a blank face, the sunglasses keeping the movements of his eyes a mystery. “Define ‘picky’.”
“I prefer redheads, between ten and five inches shorter than me, clean and sober, in heels.”
Passenger Suit’s mouth puckered up in annoyed distaste. “We can hit up a drive-through.”
“I ‘preciate that.” Bobby rolled his eyes and shoved Stephen.
“It’s the truth,” Stephen said, sounding wounded. He looked back at Passenger Suit. “Nothing for me. Get him enough to feed a small army.”