by Jodi Redford
The bushy tail attached to the blur identified the fleeing feline culprit. Allowing his muscles to once again relax, Aiden continued down the alley until he came to the rear entrance to the gallery. After a quick scan to ensure the cat was indeed the only witness around, he stretched the fingers of his right hand. Familiar tingling raced through his tendons and cartilage. Shimmering scales appeared, forming into a talon.
Wasting no time, he inserted one razor-sharp claw tip into the key slot with a satisfied smile. Having a built-in lock pick had its advantages.
With a deft flick, he sprang the bolt from its housing. Shifting his talon back into its human form, he twisted the doorknob and walked inside the gloomy rear hallway. He stepped over the yellow crime-scene tape that cordoned off the gallery’s main room. His attention automatically veered to the graffiti splattered across the once-pristine white walls. Impotent rage welled inside him all over again.
Whoever did this—Drakoni or not—would pay. By the time he was finished with the perpetrator, the bastard would know just how stupid it was messing with a dragon’s woman. He stalked to the nearest wall, his narrowed eyes fixed on the word cunt and whore scrawled in black paint. Angry flames shot from his nostrils. Those offensive words would earn the creep a pair of busted kneecaps. He swiveled, surveying the opposite wall. More crude profanity, but none of it incriminating enough to hint at a Drakoni being responsible. Not that he’d expected it.
Still, there was something stoking his suspicions. Something staring him in the face. He was just blind to it at the moment. The frustration bottled inside him threatened to blow its gasket. Dragging impatient fingers through his hair, he sat on the edge of the low table that’d displayed the colorful frogs.
He wasn’t certain how long he sat there mulling over puzzle pieces that refused to click together, but he’d burrowed deep enough in his thoughts that he damn near jumped out of his skin when a hard rap pounded on the front window. Jerking his head around, he stared at the woman standing with her nose pressed against the glass. The sun glinted off Claudia Knoxville’s wild hair, highlighting the pink streaks.
“Un-fucking-believable.” Growling, Aiden lurched to his feet and stormed to the entrance. He unlatched the door and swung it open just far enough for him to reach out, snare Claudia by the belt loop, and yank her inside the gallery.
She swung away from him, a cocky smile curving her glossy red lips. “Aren’t we a little grabby? Wonder what your pretty sacrifice would say about that.”
He advanced on Claudia. Other than a tiny flicker of wariness in her exotic, almond-shaped eyes, she showed no outward signs of fear. Didn’t surprise him. She’d always come across as one hell of a ballsy broad. He bared his teeth in a menacing display. “Couldn’t resist returning to admire your handiwork?”
Claudia frowned. “You think I did this?” Her focus drifted to the damaged walls and she snorted. “Holy hell, you’re an idiot. This is so not my style.”
“Maybe you didn’t wield the spray can. But I’m willing to bet you know who did.”
She swaggered to the low table and propped one knee-high black combat boot on its edge, assuming the stance of an extremely bored badass. “Do I look like I’m psychic?” A husky laugh floated from her. “That gives me an idea. Maybe you should ask your purple-haired friend to give her crystal ball a good shake and see what it coughs up.”
Angry smoke funneling from his nostrils, Aiden crowded over Claudia. “If you don’t come clean with me, you’ll be the one getting a good shake.”
Adopting a sultry pout, Claudia tossed her hair back. “Honey, don’t be making promises you can’t deliver on.”
He clenched his jaw and stepped away from her. Indulging in this sparring match would get him nowhere. “What are you doing here, Claudia?”
“You mean in Michigan, or in your sacrifice’s gallery, exchanging nice pleasantries with you?”
“Both,” he said, deliberately ignoring her sarcasm. “But let’s first start with what the hell you’re doing impersonating a sword smith.”
“Impersonating? I’ll have you know I personally designed each and every one of those gorgeous babies.” She scowled when he sent her a doubtful look. “What, you think your little sacrifice is the only one with some artistic talent?”
“I always thought your talents ran more toward petty theft and grand larceny.”
“Honey, don’t believe everything you hear.”
He clenched his jaw, his patience stretched to the snapping point. “Fine, you’re the next da Vinci of the sword-smithing world. That doesn’t explain the convenience of you working the same festival as Dana, and the fact you ran from me the other day.”
Claudia dropped her boot from the table and planted her hands on her hips. “I wasn’t running from you. I just wasn’t ready to talk to you yet.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “And now you are?”
“Yes. I need your help.” She spit the last part out like it was rancid. “I’m trying to track down Tucker. Lord, the lengths I stoop to for that kid.”
Her answer caught him off guard. “What the hell does your brother have to do with any of this?”
A carefully controlled mask of innocence settled on Claudia’s face. “Did I say he had anything to do with your little melodrama?”
“You wouldn’t be here if he didn’t.” Crossing his arms over his chest, he gave her a measuring look. “If you’re worried about ratting out your brother, I might be willing to let his involvement slide if you both cooperate and tell me who’s behind everything.”
“The big, bad clan Alpha offering the Knoxvilles amnesty? My ancestors must be howling in their graves right about now.” A scoffing laugh hooted from Claudia.
He narrowed his eyes. “Are you finished?”
Her laugh trickling into a chuckle, she wiped her watering eyes. “Yeah, guess so.” She glanced at her fingers before swiping their mascara-smudged tips on her skintight black jeans. “I have your word Tucker won’t be prosecuted for anything he might or might not have done?”
Corralling his impatience at her evasiveness, he nodded.
“Good. I also want your sworn oath you’ll provide protection for Tucker.”
His eyebrows arched. “Protection from what?”
“Not what. Whom. That son of a bitch Kinnit.”
A hot ball of fury gathered in Aiden’s gut. “He’s the one behind this?” His arm arched out in an angry slash, indicating the vandalized walls.
“I have no idea. All I know is he was blackmailing Tucker over some bad business that went down a few months back, and lo and behold, my brother decides to fall off the face of the earth two weeks ago.”
The same time the council announced their intentions for him to honor the Drakoni contract. Mighty big coincidence. “You think Tucker is here to do Kinnit’s dirty work.” He phrased it as a statement of fact rather than speculation. There was no doubt in his mind that kind of arrangement would be right up Kinnit’s alley. Still, he felt compelled to play devil’s advocate. “Could be your brother is holed up somewhere, trying to stay out of range of Kinnit’s radar.”
Claudia dug into her back pocket and held out a folded piece of paper. “This is a recent log of purchases on my brother’s credit card. The last entry is from a convenience store five blocks down the road.”
Aiden snatched the paper and scanned it. “How the hell did you get a hold of this?”
“I have my sources.”
He handed the page back to Claudia. “You realize what you’ve shown me shines an accusing light on your brother. I won’t prosecute him according to Drakoni law, but it doesn’t save him from human laws. He’ll be charged for breaking and entering. Not to mention the vandalism.”
Her mouth tightening, Claudia shoved the paper away in her pocket. “Tucker didn’t do this. I’m almost certain of it.”
“Let me guess. It’s not his style,” he bit out mockingly.
“No, it isn’t.” Claudia strode to the opposi
te wall and pointed to the offensive words painted there. “He knows I’d kick his ass for ever calling a woman that. And trust me, my brother is very afraid of me.”
He grunted at the note of pride in her voice. It was a safe bet that a lot of males were terrified of Claudia Knoxville. “You haven’t spoken to Tucker at all these past two weeks?”
Claudia scowled, apparently reading his skepticism. “Damn it, Fortune, I’m not blowing smoke up your ass. My brother is missing and Kinnit is responsible. I know it.”
Heaving a frustrated breath, she stomped forward and shot him a fierce glare. “I would rather chop off my big toe than ask you for a favor, but I’m desperate.” Grim determination hardened her features. “You’re the only one who has any power over Kinnit. Help me prove what a backstabbing weasel he is and make him pay.”
Aiden broke away from her stare and glanced at the wall. Rage—black, cold, and purposeful—crested on a fresh wave. “You have my word. If Thomas Kinnit is behind this, no power on earth will stop me from crushing him like a bug.”
Chapter Fourteen
Dana critically eyed the beginnings of the watercolor in front of her. She sighed, tapping the pointed end of her fan brush against her lips. “This isn’t right at all.” Rolling her neck, she listened to her strained tendons pop and crack and took it as a sign that she needed a break. She plopped the brush into the mason jar of water and lifted from her artist’s stool.
Abandoning her office studio, she ventured down the hall to the living room. Jace was sprawled on the couch, enjoying a head massage courtesy of Ms. Whiskers’ kneading paws.
Dana bit back a grin. “Am I interrupting something?”
“Your cat gives a mean shiatsu. You should consider hiring her out.”
She sat on the arm of the couch and rested her chin in her hand before slumping in dejection. “Well, at least one of us has a marketable talent.”
Jace’s dark eyebrows slashed toward the bridge of his nose. “What are you talking about? You’re an amazing artist.”
“Not today apparently.”
“Your muse isn’t cooperating?”
She shook her head. “Fickle wench is probably on vacation, sipping piña coladas on the beach with half-naked cabana boys.”
Stretching his arms over his head, Jace picked up Ms. Whiskers and carefully placed her on the floor. He swung his legs from the couch cushions and heaved his massive frame to a standing position. With a sinuous twist, he stretched his torso, working the kinks from his massive shoulders. He’d yet to put a shirt on, so his golden skin and rippling muscles were showcased in dazzling display. Dana checked her chin for drool.
Jace stopped twisting and grinned at her. “Where’s this masterpiece in the making?”
“In my studio. Why?”
“I’m going to offer you my expert opinion.”
Blinking, she hopped from the couch’s arm. “Oy, you’re an art connoisseur now?”
“Baby, I’ve always been a connoisseur. I have Dogs Playing Poker hanging in a place of pride behind my La-Z-Boy recliner.”
She rolled her eyes and trailed after him down the hall to her studio. He sauntered to her easel and inspected the unfinished watercolor while she lingered in the doorway. It always made her nervous showing off a new creation. The doubts never failed to set in.
Would he think she was a hack? Or, dear God, break down and laugh at her weird, fanciful imagination?
Jace silently stroked his chin and the butterflies fluttering in her tummy turned into full-scale kamikaze dive bombers. Finally he put her out of her misery by glancing over his shoulder at her. “I don’t understand what’s got you riled. This is terrific.”
Despite the voice of logic reminding her that the assessment came from a dragon who owned Dogs Playing Poker, a warm glow still managed to wrap her in a happy embrace. “I’m not done with it yet.”
“Doesn’t mean I can’t see the potential. And, baby, it’s sure as shit there.”
“I don’t know.” She stepped into the room and peered at the scene she’d started on the canvas of a regal dragon bowing before his princess. “It isn’t precisely how I envisioned it. The colors aren’t right. Or maybe it’s the shape of the scales.” She rubbed her forehead wearily. “Or maybe it’s just me, and I suck donkey balls.”
“Quit beating yourself up.” Jace cocked his head to the side. “I’m pretty damn sure the majority of people have never seen an actual dragon scale before. How the hell are they going to know if you get it wrong?”
“Oh man, I did get it wrong?”
Jace sent a longing look toward the exit. “I…uh…no, not exactly.”
“It’s okay. You can give it to me straight.”
“Well, if you want to get technical about it, our scales have a bit more sheen to them.” He scratched his jaw. “And we also have ears. It’d be kinda hard to hear if we didn’t.”
Returning her scrutiny to the painting, she giggled when she noticed her mistake. “Sorry, that was unintentional.”
“Ah.” Jace nodded in understanding.
She stared at his handsome profile, a germ of an idea sprouting. Tugging her bottom lip between her teeth, she plunked her rear end on the corner of the artist stool.
Jace’s expression turned apprehensive. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You’re a dragon.”
“Yeah…” An invisible question mark sat suspended at the end of his statement.
“So I can use you as a model.”
He wrinkled his nose before his eyes suddenly flared wide in horror. “Oh fuck, you mean like Fabio?”
Holding back a snicker, she tucked her bare foot onto the stool’s bottom rung. “Hate to break it to you, but you need to dye your hair blond and grow it out about a foot before you’ll be a dead ringer for Fabio.”
“Thank Jesus for that.”
She hopped down from the stool and circled him, excitement putting a bounce in her step. “Will you do it?”
He shrugged. “Sure, what the hell.”
Clapping her hands with glee, she danced a little jig. Jace’s eyes sparkled with appreciation as they dipped toward her breasts jouncing beneath the low, scooped neckline of her pink top. “Sweetness, if I knew I’d get this kind of reaction from you, I would have offered to show you my beastie a long time ago.”
A flush of heat crept across her cheeks. She snatched the canvas and bobbed her chin toward the easel. “Do you think you can carry that for me? I figure we better do this outside. I doubt my homeowner’s insurance covers dragons tearing through my roof.”
“No problem.” He stepped around her and easily lifted the easel. “Front yard or back?”
“Best stick to the back. The trees ringing the driveway provide good screening, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.” Clutching the canvas, she scurried ahead of him in order to get the door. Once outside, she led the way behind the house and pointed to a level patch of lawn. “You can set it down there.”
He dutifully obeyed and she placed the canvas on the easel before rushing inside to gather brushes, paint, and a folding TV tray. When she returned to the backyard she found Jace standing on an unzipped sleeping bag.
Buck naked.
The TV tray slipped from her fingers and clattered to the ground. Swallowing hard, she gawked at the blatant gorgeousness of Jace Fortune. He was, in a word, enormous. Everywhere. Her attention remained riveted on his cock. Oh yeah. Everywhere. She’d wondered how identical he and Aiden really were. There was her answer, growing stiff in the breeze.
“Sorry if I shocked you.” He slid on a smile that looked anything but apologetic. “It’s a lot easier shifting if I don’t have clothes to worry about.”
She nodded dumbly. “O-of course. I don’t know why I didn’t consider that before.” Bending at the waist, she fumbled for the tray with her free hand. The wooden legs clanked together, almost trapping her index finger in the hinge. Mumbling a string of obscenities that would have earned a
mouthful of soap from Emmaline, she positioned the table and arranged the brushes on its surface. All the while she tried her damnedest not to let her gaze stray to his cock.
Her lack of self-control threatening to drive her insane, she wagged a hand toward Jace and stared blindly at the tube of paints neatly aligned on the tray. “Err…you can shift whenever you’re ready.”
“Okey-dokey.”
Jace’s tone held so much amusement she couldn’t resist glancing his way. A golden luminescence shimmered over his skin. The sight was so wondrous and spellbinding she found herself hypnotized, no longer concerned with gaping at his privates.
Smoke began billowing from his nostrils, growing in density until a thick cloud completely obscured him. The smoke lifted and expanded, ascending higher than the tops of the blue spruces.
From the pillar of smoke, a gleaming, scaled mass started to emerge. A strong breeze whooshed through, dispersing the cloud into the atmosphere and revealing a fourteen-foot golden dragon standing in her backyard.
Dana’s mouth dropped open. The brief glimpse Jace had given her four days ago of his Drakoni form didn’t prepare her for seeing it—him—in his full glory.
“What do you think?”
A shriek popped from her throat. Eyes wide, she clamped a hand over her mouth. Jace’s reptilian countenance adopted a frown.
Good Lord, who knew dragons could frown? Uncovering her mouth, she gave him a sheepish smile. “Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting you to speak.”
Jace stared at her before shaking his bulky head, causing the ruff of scales adorning his long neck to undulate gracefully. “I’m standing here in my dragon suit and you scream because I can talk?”
“Well duh. I thought only Harvey from The Dragon Gang Show could vocalize.”
“Oh Jesus. Don’t ever compare us to that purple fruitcake.”
Her lips twitched. “Hmm, I take it he rates even lower on the dragon respectability scale than Fabio?”
“Fuck yeah.”
She chuckled and approached Jace until she stood directly in front of him. Craning her neck, she scoped his entire length. “You’re beautiful.”