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'Til Dragons Do Us Part (Never Deal with Dragons)

Page 7

by Lorenda Christensen


  Of course that question had my mind shooting straight into fantasyland, and the next thing I knew, my pulse was speeding up, and the air around me felt a little too warm.

  “Savannah?”

  I couldn’t help it. I blushed furiously, shocked and embarrassed at how fast my mind had taken a left turn straight into the gutter. And with the guy I’d dragged in with me standing barely a foot from where I sat.

  I had to clear my throat before I could answer. “Yeah?”

  Cameron gave me an odd look, but continued. “We think we have everything we need for now. Since Amanda has plans to head back to the shop, I wondered whether it was okay if I had Henry take you home tonight?”

  “Yes, sure. That would be great, thank you.”

  I watched as he started back to the house. The statistical probability of this was almost nil, but in addition to a perfect everything else, the man had an absolutely fantastic butt.

  “Woah, girl. Slow it down a little,” I muttered to myself. “He’s not for you.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  I jumped at the male voice, surprised to find Henry standing just behind me.

  I felt my ears heat. “Nothing. I’m ready to go.”

  Chapter Seven

  Instead of taking me home, I asked Henry to drop me off at Simon and Jeanie’s. Exhausted from my day, I knew the chances that I’d feel like cooking anything at my place were incredibly low, so I opted to kill two birds with one stone and take advantage of Jeanie’s open invitation to supper while I filled them in on my tentative success as a wedding assistant.

  I’d managed to regain my composure by the time we reached Simon and Jeanie’s, and I almost laughed at Simon’s expression when he opened the door to find me standing beside a uniformed officer.

  “Hey there, Simon.”

  “Hi, Vanni. What are you up to?” His tone was casual, but his eyes were begging me to give him a hint as to what con we were running. His eyes flicked back into the house, where I could hear Emma crying as Jeanie spoke in a calm, deliberate tone that told me she was inches from tearing her own hair out by the roots.

  “Oh, you know. Just catching a ride home with Henry, here. He’s one of the bodyguards assigned by Lord Relobu to watch Bridal Visions. Lots of threats surrounding this wedding.”

  Henry gave Simon a goofy grin, holding out his hand for a shake. “Nice to meet you.”

  “You as well. I’m Simon. You’re a bodyguard, huh?” Simon gripped Henry’s hand in polite greeting.

  My new buddy opened his mouth to reply, but I beat him to the punch.

  “Henry is actually more of an audio/video guy. Cameron hired him to help put up all the cameras for the ceremony. It recently got moved from the Silo to Relobu Manor. Isn’t that exciting?”

  Understanding dawned, but Simon covered it well. “I see. Glad to hear they’re taking care of you. Henry, we’re just about to sit down for dinner. You interested in joining us?”

  Henry grinned, but shook his head. “Nah, but thank you. I’ve got a hot date, a slice of pizza and a beer waiting for me at home. Savannah, it was good to meet you, and I look forward to working with you in the future.”

  “You too, Henry. Have a good night.” Simon and I watched as he ambled back to his car, waiting until he’d slipped into the driver’s seat before stepping back into the apartment.

  I followed Simon into the living room where Jeanie sat soothing a still-crying Emma.

  “Mommy, I’m still thirsty!”

  Jeanie frowned and placed a hand on Emma’s forehead. “Baby, you just had a whole glass of water. It’s bedtime now, how about we go read a book, and if you’re still thirsty after, I’ll get you something else?”

  The little girl nodded, and Jeanie gave me a strained smile before leading her daughter down the hall and to her bedroom.

  “Jeanie’s taking her into the doctor tomorrow morning. She’s been tired and cranky all week. Maybe it’s the sudden move, but she just hasn’t been acting like our Emma lately. She must be coming down with a bug or something.”

  “Poor kid.”

  Simon sighed, and collapsed into the sofa. “I say poor parents. Jeanie’s so wound up she didn’t even blink when I offered to cook tonight. But enough about us. It sounds like I need to be saying ‘poor Vanni.’ Fill me in on what’s going on with the gig.”

  “Poor Vanni indeed. I was hoping to get something other than cheese and crackers for dinner tonight, but it appears I’m out of luck. The gig is fine, I guess, though it just got a bit more complicated than I’d hoped.”

  He sat, scowl-lines deepening as I told him about the threats related to the wedding, and the steps Relobu had taken to ensure the safety of his “family.”

  “You think the threats are real?”

  I thought back to the intimate photos of Myrna and Trian and the pages of dragonscript. “I do.” I laughed without humor. “Myrna is adamant on showing everyone there isn’t that much difference between dragons and humans. Based on those letters, I’d agree with her. The two species definitely have violence in common. Relobu is right to beef up security—it’s not a huge stretch of the imagination for a stray bomb or dragon attack to interrupt whatever plans they’ve made.

  “That being said, I think it’s in our best interest to get in, get the painting, and get out. Before we have wedding terrorism to deal with. We move the timeline up. Way up.” I looked to Simon. “I know we usually try to go in, gather information on the place and people we’re dealing with, and form a plan. And I’ve always agreed with that approach. But in this case, the longer we wait, the more soldiers Relobu will be adding to his rotations. And it won’t matter that he’s not hiring them to protect Bright Seasons. They’ll be in our way just the same. The faster I can get the painting, the better.”

  Simon frowned. “I don’t like it, Vanni. You said yourself that Relobu has more cameras than you’ve ever seen in one place. I mean, geeze, I just met the guy they hired to handle all of them. Add that to the guards, and it’s more than we can manage without hacking into the feeds. To do that, we need time.”

  Jeanie, who’d been listening from the hall as she waited to get Emma settled into bed, sat beside her husband and lay her head against his shoulder before looking at me. “Are you safe? I mean, right now, if you went in tomorrow, would you be safe? You know I’m not one to turn down good money, especially when it comes with a great opportunity to get word of our operation into the right ears, but it’s not worth your life.”

  I waved away her concern. “For now, yes. I’m safe. I really don’t expect any trouble from the outside until closer to the wedding date. Besides, even as a human I have a pretty hard head. If something comes up, I’ll just find a closet somewhere and morph.”

  “We both know that bombs explode faster than you’d be able to morph.” She cast a troubled glance toward Emma’s bedroom before redirecting her attention to me. “Which I guess means I’m voting in favor of moving up the timetable. I’d rather get Savannah out of there before the wedding, before all the people making these crazy threats have time to set their plans into motion.”

  Simon still wasn’t happy. “I don’t like it. I’m coming with you tomorrow.”

  “Simon, go with Emma and Jeanie to her doctor’s appointment tomorrow. You know you want to be with your family, and I need to draw as little attention as possible. I’m putting up with a nightmare of a boss for this wedding assistant thing, the least we can do is get some mileage out of it. Bringing a stranger to the Relobu estate wouldn’t do anything but remind Cameron Shaw that he still has background checks to run.”

  He mulled it over, and finally agreed, albeit very reluctantly. “So what’s your plan?”

  “You remember the treasure hoard I told you about?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well Amanda is thinking about using a set of dinnerware from the collection. I’m simply going to pick it up for her.”

  Simon looked skeptical. “You’re going to try and sne
ak out a painting the size of Bright Seasons with a box of dishes? Vanni, I taught you better than this.”

  “It’s not just a box of dishes. It’s like three hundred boxes. Perfect reason to use our truck. Oh, and if you still have them, I’d love to try out a pair of those new clamps you built. The walls in this place have pressure sensors.”

  I laughed as his eyes lit up. Simon loved nothing more than to test out his new toys.

  “Come on back to the workroom, and I’ll show you how you use them. Actually, it’s something I need to show you how to make.”

  “I don’t want to learn how to make them. That’s your wheelhouse.”

  “But just in case I’m not around, you’ll be able to whip up a set. They’re rather ingenious if I do say so myself.”

  “You always say so yourself.”

  “Brat.”

  “Braggart.”

  * * *

  Turned out, Cameron hadn’t forgotten the background checks. In fact, I’d barely stepped from the delivery truck I’d “rented” from Simon—complete with a hidden compartment behind the driver’s side seat—before one of Cameron’s human guards had me rattling off my birthdate, a list of previous employers, and my last two addresses.

  I gave him the information, glad that Simon kept our cover stories fresh and up-to-date. There was no doubt I’d pass a cursory look, and would probably be okay should they want to dig a bit deeper. But the request reminded me of the ever-tightening security here in Tulsa, and made me glad that we’d decided upon the “smash and grab” approach I was about to attempt with the Tofegaard.

  I’d started the day by announcing to Henry that Amanda wanted the whole of Lord Relobu’s presidential chinaware—appropriated from the remains of the United States White House many years back—delivered to Bridal Visions for inspection and cleaning since Myrna had decided to use them for the reception. Henry had been agreeable to the suggestion.

  Until, of course, we ran into Cameron Shaw.

  “Tell me again why you’re transporting dishes from Relobu’s personal collection when the wedding is going to be held here?”

  “You know Amanda.” I rolled my eyes for effect. “She wants to make sure everything is perfect. So she’s doing the inspection of the pieces herself.”

  “And that’s fine with me. But Relobu has plenty of space here if she needs to sort through it all. Besides, why didn’t she mention it to me yesterday?”

  Ah, how I hated logical men.

  “Listen. It’s not as if I’m looking forward to loading all this up, unpacking them, and then loading them up again to bring them back for the wedding. But that’s what I have written here,” I pointed to my always-present notebook, “and I’d really like to keep my job, so that’s what I’m going to do.”

  I could tell by the set of his jaw that he was about to refuse.

  “Besides, this dinnerware was on the list of things Relobu had already approved for use at the wedding. And that list was put together before the wedding was moved back to the mansion from The Silo. So doesn’t it stand to reason that Relobu is okay with this stuff leaving his house?” I paused for a moment, then said the one thing I knew would change his mind.

  “Are you always this suspicious?”

  I stared at the floor while he wavered, feeling horrible that I’d just deliberately caused him to second guess himself.

  Cameron sighed. “Okay. Fine.” He waved to Henry, who jumped up from the chair he’d fallen into while we argued. But instead of waving me on my way, and going back to whatever heads of security were supposed to be doing at ten in the morning on a Tuesday, Cameron addressed his rosy-cheeked employee.

  “Henry, can you go to the control room and put a call in for some of the groundsmen to come around and help us get this stuff into Savannah’s truck?”

  “Oh, no! It’s totally okay. I can handle it.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “All one thousand place settings?”

  “Oy.” That was a lot of plates. But to be fair I hadn’t actually planned on taking any of them in the first place. The plan had been to get the painting, put it in the Simon-fashioned compartment in the truck, and then tell Henry that I’d misread Amanda’s instructions. I’d head back to Bridal Visions with an empty truck, a sheepish expression and an ignorant Henry.

  The next day, we’d be well on our way out of the country, painting in hand, off to a meet with our client in London.

  “Just back the truck into the delivery bay, and we’ll get it loaded.”

  So much for that idea. I’d have to ask Simon what the full set of White House china would go for on the black market. The thought made me chuckle. At this point, if hauling around a few boxes of china was the only bump in my plan, I’d count myself lucky.

  I did as I was told, running to the truck and maneuvering the large trailer into the concrete bay just outside the kitchen, all with a little help from a dragon who’d perched himself on the roof to holler directions at me. Apparently, if you were a dragonspeaker and didn’t work for DRACIM or a dragon lord, you were a walking freak show. Once Relobu’s dragons had learned I was a non-DRACIM dragonspeaker, they all wanted to get a look at me.

  I jumped from the cab, ready to use the excuse of a bathroom break to remove the painting. But the words dried on the tip of my tongue as I caught sight of Cameron Shaw.

  He’d been adamant about getting me some help with the boxes. But for some reason, it had never occurred to me that he’d personally be helping.

  Or that the sight of a man’s bare arms could stop me in my tracks. Oh sure, I’d noticed he was in shape when we first met, and I’d spent a good deal of yesterday afternoon imagining what he looked like naked, but all his gorgeous skin had been covered by a dress shirt. Now I got a chance to ogle the real thing.

  Cameron had removed his button-up to reveal a simple white tee, and the box of dinnerware he held caused the muscles in his arms to bunch up. But it was the tendrils of a half-hidden tattoo that really caught my attention. It appeared to be some sort of creature, the scaled tail of which formed a band around his bicep before ending just above the crease in his elbow. Could it be a dragon?

  Be still my heart. I don’t know what it was with me and tattoos, but spotting one slapped a multiplier on a guy’s good looks. With Cameron already sitting near the top of the male-attractiveness scale, my hormones were doing a happy dance.

  “Wowza.”

  I hadn’t realized I’d spoken aloud until Cameron looked up to catch me staring. “Excuse me?”

  I felt the skin on the back of my neck heat. It wouldn’t be long before my ears lit up like brake lights. “Nothing. That’s just a lot of plates.”

  His smile was wry. “I know. That’s why I questioned your reasons for hauling them halfway across town.” Cameron gave me an odd look, but soon his attention was on one of the groundsman who was asking how high the boxes should be stacked in the trailer.

  For the next two hours, I kept my arms full of dishes, and my eyes off Cameron Shaw. When the truck was fully loaded, I thanked the men and excused myself, using the bathroom break card.

  Minutes later, I was humming under my breath as I lifted the frame and slid Simon’s pressure-sensor contraptions onto the wall in its place. I paused a moment to make sure the magnets engaged, then proceeded to divest canvas from its mounting before slipping Bright Seasons back onto the wall. Only this time, the parliament members were all a few centuries younger.

  Thank God we had Jeanie. Back in the days when Simon and I were sharing the creation of the stand-in canvasses, we’d been hard pressed to make anything that could be mistaken for the real thing. But Jeanie was awesome, and she’d managed to paint us a replacement that looked so close to the real deal, only an art student—or a Tofegaard groupie—would be able to tell them apart.

  With the timetable moved forward, we’d needed the painting much earlier than expected. She’d grumbled all night about rushing a master, but Simon had cured her perfectionist tendencies with
another glass of wine. The paint had been dry enough for transport by morning, provided I didn’t touch it too hard.

  I tucked the original under my arm. Even out of its frame, the painting was far too large for me to hide. I needed something to stash it in until I made sure the delivery bay was cleared of people. I looked around the room.

  “Oh, how I love the houses of the rich and famous,” I murmured as I spotted one of the many red, hip-high vases Relobu had scattered around the house with just the perfect amount of...yep, fake flowers. Which meant no water at the bottom of it.

  I gently slid the rolled-up canvas into the vase, letting loose a small grunt of satisfaction when I stepped back to confirm the painting wasn’t visible behind the rearranged flowers. “Savannah Cavenaugh, today is your lucky day.”

  Chapter Eight

  Unfortunately, my day wasn’t as lucky as I’d expected it to be. I opened the door leading to the delivery bay to find Cameron leaning against the truck. With his dress shirt back on, he was the very picture of a relaxed, confident male.

  But this time, instead of feeling the urge to lick him, I wanted to slap him. I knew it wasn’t his fault he always managed to be around when I was in the middle of stealing something, but the pattern of his presence was beginning to wear on me.

  He looked up as the door clicked shut, his pleasant expression washing away my remaining irritation. “Ready to go?”

  Walking to his side, I slid my hands into the front of my jeans before perching next to him on the truck’s front fender. “Yeah, almost. I need to grab Henry, and then we’ll take off.” I paused for a moment, hoping Cameron would volunteer to find him and give me enough time to slip the canvas into the truck’s secret holding space.

  “No need. I sent Henry on ahead. Myrna and Carol are en route to the shop for their fittings, and I wanted some extra eyes on the place while they’re there. Mind if I catch a ride with you?”

 

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