by Eliza Gayle
He read through the details that included results from toxicology and the medical examiners ruling on cause of death. Self induced drug overdose. There were more details about the kind of drugs found in her system but it was another comment lower on the page that caught his attention.
Body identified by psychologist Jami Raye of Serenity Haven.
Jami Raye. What the hell kind of name was that? And who is this woman who, according to this report, came in during the middle of the night to identify Sondra? He reached into his pocket, pulled out his cellphone and snapped a picture of the paper with the details he wanted to save for later.
“Uhm, wait. You can’t take pictures of that. I’m sorry, but I’ll have to ask you to delete that photo. We have privacy laws that protect this information.”
Drago ignored his ramblings about the law and dropped the folder on the desk next to him before turning and walking out. In the din of chaos in his mind, he vaguely heard more objections. None of which he had time for or cared about.
He had what he needed from the morgue and there was no need to spend anymore time in this dreary place. Now he had to find this woman so she could fill in the blanks before he went out of his mind and lost control. He didn’t believe for a second that Sondra had committed suicide, and he intended to find out who was responsible.
Starting with this mysterious Jami Raye person.
Chapter Three
Jami stared at the ceiling and contemplated counting sheep to try and fall asleep. Dawn had arrived hours ago and still nothing. With her eyes open or closed all she saw was Sondra’s lifeless body. And if she closed her eyes and loosened her muscles, Sondra’s facial features began to morph into her own.
She wanted to scream. Her brain needed rest. Hell, she deserved a few hours of peace that didn’t involve dead people or her stressing about what might come next.
She rolled to her side and tried to conjure her happy place. What was that supposed to even look like? She’d moved to Serenity in the hopes that she would find someplace to belong. Her mother had lived here way back when and Jami had always been curious about what her life had been like.
She snorted. Who was she kidding? She’d come here hoping to find some sort of information about the man who had fathered her. Except she had nothing to go on to even point her in the right direction. Before her mother’s rapid descent into her own prescription drug and alcohol addiction she’d shared next to no information. A one night stand with a gorgeous stranger she’d said.
With thoughts of familial frustration occupying her mind, Jami felt the vestiges of sleep finally pull at her consciousness. Her limbs were growing heavy and holding her eyelids open became difficult.
She sighed, snuggling into her pillow. Until a loud crash filled her thoughts. She wanted to cry. Why couldn’t her mind just let it go for a little while?
More loud banging startled her alert. What the—?
She jumped from the bed as she tried to process what had happened. Then the banging started again and she finally realized that someone was pounding on her door.
Again, what the hell? She glanced at her bedside clock to find it was three o’clock in the afternoon. When had that happened? The sun had only just come up. Hadn’t it?
Disoriented, she staggered to the door and tried to look through the peep hole. Unfortunately, the person on the other side of the door chose that moment to bang so hard on her door it vibrated against her face. Jami jumped back on a squeak.
“I can hear you in there,” a strong male voice from the other side of the door said in a heavy accent. What was he? Russian, maybe.
“Stop banging,” she whispered.
“Open the door and I won’t have to bang on it.”
Jami’s mouth dropped open. How had he heard her?
“Who are you?” she asked, realizing right after the words left her mouth how idiotic she sounded.
“Maxim Drago. I need to speak with you.”
He spoke his exotic sounding name as if it was supposed to mean something to her. Hmmm. She wracked her brain trying to remember how she might know that name. Was he a client? Her heart picked up speed.
“I’m not sure why you're here, or how you found me, but I don’t see clients outside the rec center. If you need something you can go there. Someone is always on duty.”
“Ms. Raye, I do not require your normal services. I simply need information. If you’ll open the door—”
“I’m not opening the door.” She shook her head as if to reinforce that thought to herself. She should absolutely not open her door. She glanced down at the locks and breathed a sigh of relief to see she had remembered to lock the deadbolt when she’d come in last night.
Her brain had not been functioning at its highest level when she’d come home from the morgue. It would not have surprised her to find it unlocked.
“Ms. Raye,” he paused, as if just her name from his lips would have some affect on her.
And it did.
She’d yet to lay eyes on the man on the other side of the door and she already knew something big was about to happen. The way her name had rolled from him. It had been both forceful and heated. Was it possible to truly discern such details from sound alone?
Judging by the melty sensation in her chest, she would say so.
“I need to talk to you about Sondra.”
That melty sensation grew thick and heavy. The way he’d said Sondra’s name with clear reverence nearly had her reaching for the lock.
“Are you with the police? I made an appointment to come in later to give a statement. Down at the station,” she added in a rush.
“Definitely not with the police,” he answered, his tone sounding stern.
The fine hairs rose across her forearms and at the back of her neck. She desperately wanted to inch closer to the door and take a look through the peephole at the stranger on the other side. Except something told her she wasn’t ready for that step. “Then who are you? And what does this have to do with Sondra?”
“Ms. Raye, I don’t enjoy standing out in a hallway forced to communicate through a door. If you could see fit to open up, then we could have a civilized conversation.
She nearly snorted. Anything civil with a man who made her door vibrate so easily sounded out of the question. “I don’t know you. If you’d like to make an appointment to come to my office tomorrow…” She let her words trail off. As much as she wanted this man to walk away and never come back, she knew he wouldn’t. How she knew that she had no idea. Nothing about this made sense to her.
“Look,” he started, his voice softening to the point she had to strain to hear him. “I’ve come a long way to find out my sister is dead and has already been cremated. This leaves me with a violent need for answers and you the only person who might be able to give them to me. If you’d like, I’d be happy to meet you somewhere else, but I don’t want to make an appointment and I don’t want to wait until tomorrow. I need to talk right now, Ms. Raye.”
The word sister tripped her up. She had two of her own that kept her on her toes at times. They were close, nearly inseparable until she’d come to Serenity on her own. Not that that stopped her sisters from calling her all the time. They wanted a play by play of her life at all times. God, she missed them something fierce.
Jami shook free from her own thoughts and circled back to the man outside her door. Not once had Sondra mentioned a brother to her. In fact, she’d outright refused to talk about her family. She’d assumed at the time that they were not close and/or they were the root of what she used drugs to escape from. More often than not, addicts often had issues in their childhood that had led them astray.
“Ms. Raye. Jami. Are you listening?”
Oh she was listening all right, but her mind was going about a mile a minute now as she sifted through her memories of Sondra and their brief sessions.
“I’m here. Just wondering why Sondra never mentioned having a brother.”
He heaved a heavy sigh
. “We’re what you would call an unconventional family. Are you coming out or not?”
She wondered what this strong, in charge sounding man would do if she said no. She made the quick decision not to find out. Better to get this over with. Whatever this was.
“Yes, I'll meet you across the street.” The words popped out before she could stop them. What the ever living hell? This really did not bode well for whatever conversation this man wanted to have.
“Good. I will meet you there. I will order for us while I wait. How do you take your coffee?”
She smiled at the door, surprised how considerate he’d just sounded. Maybe this Mr. Drago would not be so bad after all. “Black, two sugars. But I need a shower first. Do you mind waiting that long?”
“Not at all. I will go now and give you the time you need.” His answer was followed by the sound of heavy footsteps on the stairwell. She imagined it would take a very large man to make those decisive sounds.
Curious again, she stepped forward and pressed her eye to the peep hole. Only she was too late. True to his word, he’d left her doorstep and disappeared that quickly.
She closed her eyes and tried to picture the man who belonged to the silky steel voice who’d all but insisted she do as he asked.
Tall. He’d have to be. She’d never believe someone with that much power resonating from his voice would be short. Plus Sondra had been tall, probably at least 5’ 9” if she had to guess.
She’d also had blonde hair so light it often appeared white. Jami tried to picture the man behind the voice with the same coloring as his sister and it didn’t feel right. She imagined someone much darker in every way. He would not be blond or blue eyed.
Instead of heading to the bathroom like she should, Jami unlocked the door and pulled it slowly open. Empty. She frowned.
However, a foreign scent wafted through her door that she could only describe as warm. She inhaled deeply. No, not warm. Hot. Heat. Mr. Drago had a heated essence that pulled her out into the hallway and held her in its grip.
Her own skin warmed the longer she stood there. Gone were the chills of sleep (for as long as she could remember she’d run cold. So cold she constantly struggled to find heat.), and for the first time in recent memory she wanted to throw off her sweatshirt and bask in the warmth.
What the hell is wrong with you?
The voice in Jami’s head jerked her back to reality and back into the cold. The resulting ache this loss caused almost made her cry out. God, she was acting crazy. Even more so than usual. She was starting to sound like her sister Violet who had a real thing for all the woo woo elements of the world. Like crystals and shit.
Jami pulled back and slammed the door shut, locking it again after it latched. She preferred science. The tangible that had plenty of logic to go with it. Explanations and reason made things right in her world.
So these episodes of unexplained thoughts and actions were understandably driving her batty. Sondra’s brother or whatever, had no power over her. It was simply a matter of her own mind playing tricks on her.
She headed toward the bathroom. Since she was up anyway, there was no reason to play games and keep Mr. Drago waiting any longer than she had to. The sooner she talked to him, the sooner she could put all of this behind her.
Hell, maybe he could give her some insight into why Sondra committed suicide or at the least how she ended up on drugs. If she understood more about what motivated Sondra to do the things she did, then maybe she could use that information to help someone else.
She turned on the water and patiently waited for it to turn hot. The notion that Mr. Drago had some sort of strange power or aura that had compelled her to behave oddly sounded ridiculous now.
Logic dammit. She had to find it. Now.
But as her fingers touched the heated water, the stark memory of a strange man whose simple name brought a flush to her cheeks and his strong, dark voice made her center melt all over again, giving her pause.
And she still had that strange sense of foreboding that told her something big was about to happen. And whatever it was, she couldn’t hide from it or him no matter how much she tried.
Mr. Drago wanted answers and he wanted them now.
Chapter Four
Drago stood in the coffee shop waiting for his order completely confused by what he’d done. His visit to Ms. Jami Raye’s apartment had not gone as expected.
Her lack of cooperation when it came to them having a conversation annoyed him and yet, here he stood accommodating her by ordering coffee after going so far as to ask her how she took it.
Black, two sugars. That didn’t say much other than she was about as no fuss as the run down building she lived in. He’d been expecting some sort of half caff espresso skinny mocha latte nonsense.
He surveyed the nearly empty coffee shop, scanning and memorizing the faces. He also opened his senses to check for shiften. The longer he stayed in this town the riskier his position became. Any run in with the local shiften population would not go well. If they could tell what he was that is.
As a half breed he didn’t exactly conform to shiften or human expectations. Humans tended to fear him without understanding why, and he imagined shiften would be just as uncomfortable as soon as they got an idea of what lived beneath his skin.
Dragen.
The heat of which he barely kept contained under certain circumstances.
Speaking of heat. His inner beast had more than stirred during his strange encounter with the counselor woman. First her scent had penetrated his senses as he’d approached her door and then when he’d heard her voice for the first time, almost unbearable heat had risen inside him. Not to mention his cock.
He’d gotten rock hard from her voice. What was he? Twelve?
Drago frowned. Or maybe it had just been too long since he’d taken a woman to his bed. He didn’t much care for distractions and the need to relieve himself of any built up sexual tension qualified as a top-notch distraction. And apparently, based on today's encounter, a necessary situation to deal with.
“Drago?” A young woman behind the counter called out, hesitancy in her voice and two coffees in her hands.
He approached the counter, watching the barista's demeanor change as he got close. He wasn't blind to the effect he often had on women and he sometimes used that to his advantage.
She also surveyed him from head to toe before meeting his gaze again with a wide smile across her face. “Drago?” she asked.
He nodded, reaching for the cups. Oddly, her attraction didn’t phase him. If he’d truly gone too long without release with a woman, his dragen should have reacted. Sure his cock was still hard, but that had been the situation since he approached Ms. Raye’s apartment.
“Do you need sleeves or a tray? Anything else? Anything at all?”
Her implied meaning came across clearly. Maybe in a different time and a different place he could have given her his assistant’s phone number and arrangements could have been made.
“No, thank you. This is all I require.”
Her smile faltered, but she quickly recovered and handed him his drinks. Her fingers grazed his and he noticed the delicate soft skin across long, graceful fingers. Something unusual happened. Absolutely nothing. Normally by now, he would have imagined this woman's lovely hand wrapped around his cock.
He shook his head and turned away. Something definitely wasn’t right here. He grabbed a small table in the far corner of the room and took a seat against the wall. This angle gave him the perfect vantage point to keep an eye on the entire room as well as the entrance and allowed no one to sneak up behind him.
These people didn’t know it, but sneaking up on a dragen could come with dire circumstances even when he had control. On a day like today, when grief knocked at his heart and the puzzle of his out of sorts reactions worried him, he would be especially dangerous.
He glanced at his watch. It had been twenty minutes since he’d left Ms. Raye to her preparations and
expected it would be a while longer. His experience with women, while not vast, had been frequent enough for him to conclude that they needed quite a bit of time to prepare themselves for leaving the house.
He plucked his cell phone from his pocket and prepared to settle in. There were always emails to read and phone calls to make. His business had grown to every time zone around the world, which meant that at any given time someone was waiting for something from him.
A bell tinkled in the distance, signaling someone had opened the front door. Drago glanced up and down so quickly he almost missed her entrance. But the moment her scent hit him again his heart skipped a beat.
He looked up again and found the object of his questions standing stock still inside the door, staring at him. Her eyes wide with lips slightly parted. He had no idea of what he’d expected, but the petite, attractive woman with no make up, torn at the knees jeans and a bulky sweater for attire, not to mention the brown, wet hair braided down her back was not it.
Sondra’s file had indicated the woman as an addiction counselor and he’d just assumed she'd be much older. The little waif standing by the door with her hands locked together in front of her, looked barely old enough to have finished high school let alone college.
Their gazes locked onto each other. Drago felt his pulse pound through every inch of his body. He’d already locked onto her scent, but now he had a face to match the voice he still heard talking to him through a locked door. She looked kind of frail and nervous standing across the room as if she wasn’t sure if it was him or not.