Acrid smoke burned her eyes, but she blinked rapidly and stumbled forward. In the far-right corner, Drake knelt before a heap of long copper hair strewn over the rotten pine floor, a pink T-shirt clutched in his hands. Around his white knuckles, scorched fabric burned. Smoke spewed out his mouth and nostrils.
“Drake, stop. It’s going to be okay.” Tansy dropped to the floor beside him and tugged at the T-shirt. “You’re going to get burned.”
He didn’t respond.
She laid a hand on his shoulder, then drew it back immediately. Yikes. He was as hot as an ember.
“Drake, please listen. You want to save Daphne, right? If you don’t calm down, this place will go up in flames, and you might alert the kidnappers. Forest fires tend to attract attention, you know?”
Slowly, the fingers of his hands loosened, and the charred T-shirt fell to the floorboard. Bits of flame lit the strewn locks, and the scent of singed hair filled her nose. She kicked the smoldering T-shirt out of harm’s way and stomped on it until no sparks remained.
Drake rose, his face ashen and his eyes reflecting a black abyss of horror.
She recognized that despair. And she’d do anything to heal that pain. Her own face must have looked similar the day Everett died, only she’d been alone in the hospital when he’d passed on in his sleep to Summerland. She’d thought she’d been prepared, tried to convince herself that death would be a blessing, a relief of his suffering, but she’d been oh-so-wrong. Nothing could prepare you when it concerned your child’s life. Nothing.
So she did the only thing she could do. With no regard to her pride, to past hurts, or to old resentments, Tansy went to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. Despite the intense, uncomfortable heat, she laid her head on his chest and listened to the loud, erratic pounding of his heart. At first, he didn’t respond, but finally, he put his hands on her waist, and his chin dropped to the top of her scalp.
“She can’t be dead,” he rasped. “I can’t . . . I just can’t . . .”
Tansy gave him a hard squeeze, and then pulled back far enough to face him. “Be strong, Drake. We’ll get through this together.”
He nodded and cleared this throat. “Right. Sorry.”
“For what? Caring about your daughter?”
“For the past. For being a prick when I hired you. And for almost losing it just now.”
Damn if she wasn’t the one about to fall apart with that unexpected proclamation. Tansy swallowed hard past the painful lump in her throat. “Alright, then,” she said brusquely, moving toward the mound of discarded hair. “Let’s get to work and find out what we’re dealing with. It’s my experience that kidnappers frequently move their hostage from place to place to throw off anyone who might have seen anything suspicious. So what we found here is probably a good sign.”
She sat down and gathered a few copper strands in her right hand. “They cut her hair and had her change clothes in order to move her—to prevent her being recognized.”
“Can you know that for sure?” Relief mixed with skepticism shone in his eyes.
“About to find out now.” From her jacket pocket, she withdrew a tin the size of a breath mint container and opened it.
“What the hell is that?” he asked, eyeing the strange contents.
“I call it my witch-to-go kit. It has everything I need. A feather to represent air.” She plucked it from the tin and laid it on the floorboards. “A tiny vial of holy water. A tealight candle for fire and a pack of matches.” She upended the tiny tin, and bits of dirt and salt sprinkled everywhere. “A bit of dirt to represent the earth element, and a dash of salt for luck.”
Drake sat beside her. “Going to do the pendulum and map thing again?”
“Yep.” Tansy lit the candle, pulled the local map from her pocket, and set to work.
A tendril of energy unfurled in the pit of her stomach—and then she saw her. Daphne sat at a rickety table, her head in her hands. A skinny man with cropped brown hair paced the room, and she recognized him as Adam Wingate from a photo in his employee file. Adam violently flung his hand in the air, a scowl on his face. Daphne looked up with bloodshot eyes, and her thin shoulders drew in, as if she were trying to make herself smaller. Invisible. Her hair, the same deep auburn as Ruby’s, was cut to chin length in jagged, uneven edges. She wore an oversized brown T-shirt that hung on her thin frame. If only she could communicate with Daphne, give her some assurance that help was on the way. But she’d never been able to master that feat. Still, Tansy whispered a small message of hope. Hang in there, darling.
She couldn’t make out what Adam was screaming at Daphne—picking up sound was another feat she’d never mastered in these visions—but it didn’t matter. She expanded her focus outward, taking in the rustic kitchen, then shifting through to a small living area. A screened door led to a porch, and her mind’s eye drifted beyond that to where a semicircle of abandoned cabins surrounded a giant fire pit. Ah, she knew exactly where they were. No pendulum needed.
Opening her eyes, she smiled at Drake’s intense stare.
“Daphne’s alive, and I know where she’s being held.”
For an instant, his eyes closed, and then he jumped to his feet. “Where? How are far away are they?”
Tansy blew out the candle, smoothed a hand over the map, and poked a finger at a nearby spot. “He’s keeping her at an old campground by Lake Calhoun that’s been abandoned for a couple decades. I’d estimate it’s about eighty-five miles from here.”
“What did you see? Was she hurt?”
“She appears to be unharmed, although understandably shaken. And in more good news, there’s only one abductor. Wingate.”
“Bastard.” Drake snatched up the map. “It’s northwest of here, near Angel Falls. I can find it and be there in under half an hour.”
“Not so fast.”
“Now what’s the problem?”
Tansy glanced out the window. “We should wait another fifteen or twenty minutes until it’s completely dark. There’s a manned fire tower in the area.”
“To hell with that. If a ranger spots an unusual dark object in the sky, too bad. I’ll fly by too fast for him to register my dragon form.”
“Are you sure?” She cast another uneasy glance out the window.
“C’mon. Even if I flew within inches of the tower, the poor ranger would think he’d either hallucinated or fallen asleep and dreamed the whole thing. Nobody believes in dragons anymore.”
He stripped out of his shirt. Tattooed scales inked the massive breadth of his chest and she gulped, vividly recalling tracing those intricate half-moon designs while they laid together in bed. Quickly, she turned her back to give him privacy.
“Stuff my clothes in the empty backpack. I’ll need them later, especially that gun in my vest. I’ll land a good fifty yards from the campground and sneak up on Wingate.”
“I’ll go with you.”
When he didn’t answer, she turned and saw he’d already left the cabin, leaving a pile of clothes on the floor. She hastily stuffed them in the backpack and secured the pack on her shoulders. Outside, an almost blinding light crashed through the darkness, followed by a deep, rumble that vibrated the cabin floor and walls.
Tansy’s hand flew to her chest as though to calm her racing heart. I’ve nothing to fear. And yet, who wouldn’t be awed in the presence of so much raw power? No matter that she’d witnessed the transformation from man to dragon several times in the past. This was magic at its height, and she was one of the few to ever witness its majestic strength.
She drew a deep breath. This is Drake. You’re safe. With shaky legs, Tansy walked to the doorway.
The dragon awaited her.
She’d tried to prepare herself, but at the sight of the towering black-scaled dragon, she leaned against the doorframe and stared. On closer examination, his scales were not all black. Gold and purple flecks glittered like gems, and his chest was as scarlet as the finest, rarest rubies. His head towered abo
ve the trees, but he ducked down, and she found herself staring into his intelligent, ebony eyes. Here was the Drake she knew. In their depths, she recognized compassion and determination mixed with a hint of irritation.
Tansy nodded. “Right. Time to get a move on.”
It took all her strength to climb one of his wings and then sink into the recess where wing met the bulk of his body. She secured the backpack on her shoulders. They couldn’t afford to have it and the gun blow away. The pocket of flesh where she cuddled was toasty and smooth as velvet. Tansy patted against his flank. Three quick thumps, their long-ago signal, I am ready.
Chapter Six
The slight weight riding beneath his left shoulder blade filled him with comfort. Anxious as he was to rescue Daphne—or maybe because of it—Tansy’s presence filled him with a sense of comfort—it felt . . . right. He’d almost forgotten how much he’d loved their long-ago midnight flights through the mountains.
We’ll get through this together.
Her words wrapped around his heart that had been filled with darkness. Soon, he’d have Daphne home. Adam Wingate was no match against his power.
Below, a glimmer of light splintered the inky blackness of night. They’d arrived. Anger staved his chest with fire. He fought against the impulse to immediately swoop down and bellow fire, challenging Wingate to a fight. Stupid. He must assume the man was armed and cowardly enough to hold Daphne at gunpoint. No, he had to play it smart, take him by surprise and hope to hell Wingate acted alone.
Drake dove down, careful to find a small clearing to land. Mindful of his passenger, he landed as gently as possible.
“Ouch! Damn it. Sweet Goddess almighty,” came a muffled cry.
Evidently, he hadn’t been gentle enough. He took a deep breath and willed his body to shift. Three, two one . . . the familiar freefall began. His mind tunneled down the familiar rabbit hole of sensation—clanging bells, flash sightings of a cave filled with gold bricks and jeweled crowns, the great wall of China, a crimson and gold palace, the scent of burning peat that stung his eyes and scalded his flesh, and then plunging into an Arctic sea of melting glacier water.
Once again, he stood on two human feet. Steam fogged the air so thick it was impossible to see. “Tansy? You there?” he called out, but not so loud Wingate could overhear if he stood by an open cabin window.
She emerged from the dark, steam swirling around her like a cloak. But her blue eyes glowed bright as a cloudless summer day. She’d never looked more witchy . . . more beautiful. His naked body involuntarily responded, and her eyes grew wider as she boldly stepped before him. An herbal scent, as familiar to him as the back of his hand, enveloped him. Just once more, he needed to feel her in his arms.
Drake slowly drew her in and she offered no resistance. His mouth claimed hers and she pressed her hips against his erection, her hands cupping both sides of his face, wanting the kiss to go deeper.
A fever possessed him, and he groaned against her mouth. “Tansy,” he growled. It had been too damn long since he’d held her like this.
She took a step back and his body felt bereft without her.
“You’re heading into danger. Whatever happens tonight, I didn’t want you to leave me without a kiss for luck.”
Tansy thrust the backpack into his abs and sanity returned. “Luck. Right,” he said, dressing quickly.
She turned her back on him and fiddled with her cellphone. “The lucky kiss is already working. We’ve got a signal.”
He grabbed her phone and punched in numbers. “Charlie? I’ve found Daphne. Do you know where the Broken Arrow campground in Angel Falls is? Wingate’s holding her in one of the old cabins and appears to be acting alone. Round up a team and start driving. You can call the police en route. What’s that? Right, we don’t want to tip their hand.” He clicked off the connection and handed the phone to Tansy.
“What’s the plan?” she asked.
“Once Charlie and Nate hit the turn-off to the campground, they’ll exit the car and walk the rest of the way.”
“So now we wait.”
Yeah, he’d never been real good at waiting. “I’m going to get closer.”
“Why? With your power, you can see and hear what you need to right where we’re standing.”
Did she have to argue so much? “And here I thought we’d established a truce.”
“But they’ll arrive in only—”
“Stay here. I’ll come back for you when it’s over. And keep your phone turned off.” He walked ahead, treading as lightly as possible, in case there did happen to be someone guarding on the outside. His senses weren’t foolproof, so he wouldn’t take any chances. Not when it came to Daphne’s life.
Twigs snapped from behind and he turned around, glaring.
She met his gaze head-on, never wavering. “You’re not going alone.”
Short of tying her to a tree, Drake didn’t see a way to stop her. “Fine. But stay out of the way. No matter what happens. And no more talking from here on out.”
She nodded and drew an imaginary line across her lips as though zipping them.
He proceeded slowly, much more so than he would have liked. Without Tansy, it would be quicker, but her night vision didn’t compare to his own. Last thing he needed was for her to stumble and involuntarily cry out—or worse, twist an ankle.
The lantern light from the cabin drew closer, a beacon in the night. Wingate held a cell phone to his ear while Daphne sat at an old, pine table, running her hands through her shorn hair. At the sound of her sniffle, anger pounded Drake’s temples.
“Shut up,” Wingate snapped, tossing the phone on the table and hovering over her with a raised hand. “Or I’ll give you something to cry about.”
Oh, hell no. He wasn’t going to stand here while Wingate abused his daughter. Drake sprang forward, shaking off Tansy’s arm when she tried to stop him. He ran to the edge of the tree line and then sprinted across the clearing, ducking low in case Wingate glanced out the window.
“—sure hope your asshole dad meets the ransom. You’re such a whiny little bitch I might have to pay Evers to take you back.”
Daphne stared down at her hands, saying nothing.
Drake ducked below the window and began creeping toward the front of the cabin.
“Your Dad’s one cold dude. Hard to figure out. Not sure he even has strong emotions like love.”
“He’ll pay,” Daphne said flatly. “He has a strong sense of duty.”
Her words scraped his heart. Maybe Tansy was right. Perhaps he had been a little too strict and reserved with his daughters. Okay, maybe even a lot reserved. Just one more chance. I’ll change my ways, he vowed. But for now, he needed to focus on catching Wingate by surprise. On the porch, he stepped cautiously across the rotted wood planks, timing his footfalls to the sound of Wingate’s loud diatribe. The slightest creak could give away his position. At the screen door, he paused. The rusty dilapidated door was bound to squeak over the noise of Wingate’s voice. There was no hope for it but to burst in with gun drawn and aim it at the bastard before he could grab Daphne as a human shield. Drake peeked through the screen in time to see Wingate rush to the window.
“What the fuck?” he screamed. “Something’s out there.”
Tansy. Drake didn’t know whether to curse or bless her for the distraction. He flung open the screen door, gun drawn. “Drop it Wingate,” he demanded. “You’re surrounded.”
Wingate whirled around, eyes wild but his aim steady, as he pointed his own gun straight at Drake. “Liar.”
He didn’t dare risk a glance at his daughter. “Run, Daphne,” he commanded, his eyes never leaving Wingate’s.
A chair scraped against the floor, but she wasn’t quick enough. Wingate grabbed her with one arm, still keeping aim at Drake with his other as he secured Daphne in a choke hold.
No! His lungs seized, and his ears rang with the pounding of blood. From a distance, a car engine sounded on the county road. Too late to help
now.
“If anyone’s surrounded, it’s you,” Wingate said with a sneer, shifting the gun to Daphne’s head.
“Bullshit. Look Wingate, I’ll pay you. Whatever you want. Just let Daphne go.”
“Show me the money.”
“I don’t have it with me, but I can get it to you in thirty minutes if . . .” he stumbled on his words, horrified at the vision behind Wingate’s back.
Tansy crawled through the open window brandishing a large stick. She jabbed it in Wingate’s back. “Drop your gun,” she ordered.
Wingate’s jaw gaped, and his shoulders drew up, just long enough for Drake to lunge forward and strike his arm in a vicious karate chop. The gun clattered to the floor.
And that’s all he needed, now he knew Daphne was out of immediate danger. Drake twisted Wingate’s arm behind his back and hissed in his ear. “Ever touch my daughter again and you’re dead meat.”
Wingate groaned, his face twisted in agony. Not only did Drake have no sympathy for the bastard, he’d gladly have shot a hole through the man’s heart, but he needed information. Until he knew who else was involved in this plot, he’d never rest easy again.
Tansy’s face drew up in alarm. “Something’s not right.”
“Damn straight,” he agreed. “Pick up his gun and take his cell phone. You stay here while I take Wingate out back for a little talk.”
Daphne stood before him, clutching her hands. “What are you going to do to him, Papa?”
Surely she didn’t still have feelings for this scumbag—did she? “Talk,” he said briefly, shoving Wingate to the door. What he was about to do, Daphne didn’t need to witness.
“You’ll be sorry,” Wingate rasped through his pain. “My help’s on the way.”
And so was his own help. What he was about to do, he wanted no one else to see, not even his own security employees. Only Tansy knew his secret. He’d get to the bottom of this in his own way before others arrived and interfered. Last thing he needed was for Wingate to be arrested and clam up on the whole kidnapping scheme.
The Lost Dragon_Bad Alpha Dads Page 4