by Amelia Jade
“Shall we get to work?”
“Okay.” She turned away from him, trying to keep her face from showing her reaction. The taste of ash and bile rose in her mouth and Harlow was forced to swallow the scream of frustration. Why did he have to be in the military?
Of all the things, why there? The police? Sure. The government? Probably. But he had to be a soldier, a gunman for the army.
An envelope yellowed with age appeared in her mind, and she squished her eyes closed, desperately trying to get rid of it.
You’re dead. Why do you still have so much sway over me?
In her mind the envelope rotated, turned over and over in her hands. One side blank, the other with her full name scrawled across it in a man’s handwriting. Her father’s.
Harlow Quinn Ryder.
No. She wasn’t going down that road. Not in her mind, and not with Vanek. She couldn’t. It hurt too much to even think of. Old wounds were ripped open already, and if she kept him around they would just fester and grow within her. Harlow couldn’t deal with that pain. Not again. She was still broken from the first time.
Her decision was made for her. She would finish out the day with Vanek, and then let him know that things weren’t working out. That they had to go their separate ways. It was going to hurt, but the pain now would be an order of magnitude less than the devastation she would feel when life repeated itself.
Chapter Ten
Vanek
The previous day had passed in a bit of a blur.
After hearing from Harlow’s own lips that she wished he would kiss her again, he’d vowed to do just that. But by the end of the day both of them were sweaty, tired, and truthfully more than a little grumpy. The timing just hadn’t been right, and he’d feared that trying to kiss her then would have just made everything worse, not better. But today…today he was going to change that!
The float was starting to come back to shape, and he figured they only had a few more days of work left on it. Which was a blessing, because at some point he was going to have to tell her that the new float wasn’t coming. Not until they were mated. Then, and only then, was he going to get the money for it. Probably.
It would be just like the military to go back on their offer, even if he and the other dragons were able to kill one of the Outsiders. The more he worked with them, the more Vanek realized that Colonel Mara was an exception, not the norm. If everyone were more like her, then they might have a chance when the invasion came. And come it would.
Vanek had seen the footage from the portal in the mountains. Visions of the serried ranks of dragon-sized Walkers and the smaller foot soldiers they’d fought so far danced in his nightmares, surrounded by fire and flame as they walked across the surface of the Earth, killing anything and everything in their path. If they were to have any hope at stopping them, they would need the might of many more dragons. Three was not enough.
His plan was to kiss Harlow before he told her about the lack of new float. Hopefully that would put her in a better mood to receive the bad news. He was going to work tirelessly until that old float was fixed, though, and he just had to hope that it would be enough. If she truly was his mate, she wouldn’t hold it against him.
No, he doubted Harlow would be angry. Disappointed, yes, which ultimately was what he feared even more. Anger was something that could be dealt with, taken apart with logic until it was deflated, cooled, and forged into something else.
Disappointment in him was the single worst feeling ever. It hurt. Knowing that he had to disappoint his mate—to tell the one woman he cared for more than anything that he couldn’t give her everything she wanted—that was worse than anything else that could be done to him, with perhaps the exception of knowing he’d failed others.
Both of those cut deeper than any knife, threatening to make him miserable and worse.
He walked up to the warehouse, a big corrugated metal building surrounded by dozens of others just like it in one of the various industrial areas of Barton City. They dotted the perimeter of the city, though this one was nearer to downtown, a remnant of the days when the city was much smaller. He grabbed the door and tried to slide it aside. It moved perhaps half an inch and then clanged to a halt.
“What the hell?”
It was always open. He purposefully showed up after Harlow did to ensure that he wouldn’t be caught standing around outside. Men of his size and build often received unwarranted attention when they loitered, and he preferred to stay unnoticed as much as possible.
He tried again, careful not to use his massive strength to break the steel by accident. It was definitely locked. A quick peek inside the window to the right of the door showed it to be dark inside. Nobody was there. Slightly concerned, he took out his phone, using the still somewhat unfamiliar device to text Harlow, asking if everything was all right and if she was coming to the warehouse today.
Pacing back and forth in front of the man-sized sliding door he waited, impatiently checking his phone every few seconds to ensure he hadn’t somehow missed a reply. After ten minutes had passed he did a lap around the building, checking to see if the big doors on the far side were open instead, but a tug on those proved that it was all locked up just as tight as it had been the night before.
He reached the normal entry and pounded his fist on the door in frustration. As he did the wind picked up slightly, a light gust. It brought to him the sound of something nearby flapping, as if stuck. He looked around, and then at last looked down at the ground.
Next to the door was a chunk of rock, with a piece of paper underneath it. He growled angrily, upset at himself for having missed this the first time around. But when you were so high off the ground, looking at it just wasn’t second nature. Why hadn’t whoever it was that put it there tape it to the wall, or jam it in the door?
Both irritated and fearful, he opened the letter and read it.
Vanek,
I’m sorry to do this, taking the coward's way out, but here I am. I don’t have the courage to do this to your face, but trust me when I say that you deserve much, much better. One day I hope you find it, but I know it won’t be from me. I’m not that sort of girl, and I can’t give you what you need.
I’m not coming back to the warehouse today, in case you haven’t figured that out. I have a meeting with another client soon, and if they don’t hire me, then I’m not sure where I’ll go from here.
I wish things could have worked out between us, Vanek, but this is for the best. I just can’t do this. Not again.
Goodbye,
Harlow
His fist tightened around the letter in anger.
“HARLOW!” he bellowed, lashing out with his free hand.
The metal door shrieked and was ripped from its hinges as tortured metal gave way under the hammerblow. The rectangular door blew inward, bouncing off the half-repaired float and skidding to the side. Several of the recently reattached bars popped loose and Vanek lost his temper with a shriek. He ripped the other sliding door from its mount and hammered it into the ground until it was a warped shape, unrecognizable as the door it had started in.
Then he dragged the misshapen lump of metal into the warehouse. Vision clouded with red, he grabbed the first piece of solid steel he could find and started slamming it into the former door until both pieces were twisted behind recognition. His hands were bleeding from where they’d impacted as well, the blood making his grip slippery. With a final roar he raised his hands above his head to smash the pipe down, but it slipped from his fingers and went sailing across the warehouse, crashing down loudly into a corner.
Vanek looked at his blood-soaked palms, chest heaving from the exertion. He sat down abruptly, his anger, once towering and unstoppable, gone in an instant. Shame at his actions filled him, even as the paper crinkled in his back pocket. There was no memory in his brain of stuffing it there, but he was glad it hadn’t gotten lost.
“How could you do this to me, Harlow?” he asked to nobody in particular. “With
out even giving me a chance to explain, or a real reason? What did I do to wrong you so?”
Failure.
The word slipped into his mind, entrenching itself front and center like a flashing neon sign, reminding him that he’d not been a good enough mate. Just like he’d not been a good enough leader.
You’re going to ruin everything for everyone. Again. It’s all your fault.
Aimlessly he got up and wandered over to the single washbasin in the warehouse, splashing water onto his hands and wrists. The clear water soon turned pinkish-white as he cleaned the blood from his already-healed hands. The minor cuts and scrapes were gone, and the bigger lacerations already healing with fresh pink skin. In another half an hour there would be no signs left at all.
If only he could say the same for his heart.
***
He walked back into the penthouse and went straight to his room, ignoring the questioning look from Corde. The scene was far too reminiscent of a kid coming home in a tantrum trying to avoid his parents for his liking, but there was little to be done about that.
Moments later Corde entered his room.
“Have you not heard of knocking, ‘Dad’?”
Corde’s face bunched up in confusion. “Huh?”
“Never mind. What do you want?”
“Your shirt is covered in blood. Are you okay? Did you find an Outsider?”
Vanek’s brow wrinkled in surprise as he looked at his shirt. “Well, that would explain all the weird looks I got on the way home. But no, no Outsider. Now, can you go away?”
“What the hell’s got you in such a foul mood?” Corde snapped.
“This,” he retorted, reaching into his back pocket and giving Corde the crumpled piece of paper from Harlow. “Now get out.”
Corde didn’t move at all, standing in place as he read. Vanek sighed and started tapping his foot, but the other dragon studiously ignored him. His fingers tightened into a fist, but he dropped them. Fighting Corde wasn’t the answer, just like fighting the door hadn’t been. It would just be another expense he’d have to pay, and his funds were getting dangerously low as it was.
“What the hell happened?” Corde asked at last, his voice full of compassion for his friend.
“If I knew that, I wouldn’t have lost the fight with the door,” he answered grumpily.
“What door?” Corde looked back out into the main part of their suite, as if wondering if he should go check for damage.
“At the warehouse. I tried to fight it.”
“Why the hell did you do that?”
“It looked at me weird, okay? Fuck, I lost my temper after reading that and lashed out at the first inanimate object I could find.”
“Ah. Yeah, I understand that feeling. So what are you going to do about it now?”
“I’m sorry, what?”
Before Corde could answer his phone started to ring in his pocket. He pulled it out to shut it off, but then held it up. “It’s Kallore. I’m putting him on speakerphone.”
“What? No, don’t do that,” he growled, reaching for the metal object.
Corde snatched it away. “Yeah, definitely. You need to hear it from him too. Hey, Kal?”
“Hey.”
“Listen, you’re on speakerphone.”
“Don’t do this. Hang up.” Vanek’s long hair swished as he shook his head back and forth, pleading.
“Okay. Why am I on speakerphone? And why does Vanek sound like a twelve-year-old girl complaining to her mom?”
“Oh, that’s rich,” Corde laughed. “Definitely not letting that go. But he has a real reason. His mate left him a letter today, dumping him.”
“Fuck you.”
“You’re grounded, Vanek. Did she leave a reason?” Kallore added.
“No.”
Vanek threw up his hands and sank back onto the bed while Corde brought the third dragon up to speed on his personal life drama.
“Oooh, that hurts. Where is she now, Van?”
“I don’t know.”
“You mean you didn’t go hunt her down?”
“What? No? Why would I do that?”
“One second. I’m putting you on speakerphone.”
“Hello? Vanek?”
He groaned and slid to the floor, hands covering his face as Elin came on the phone too.
“What?” he asked eventually.
“So you didn’t go chase after her?” That was Elin.
“No. I just got the letter. Then I beat up a door, which by the way you’re paying for. Then I came home.”
“See, I told you he didn’t chase after her.”
“But Kal, this is a tailor-made cry for him to demonstrate that he cares.”
“Don’t tell me, tell Vanek that! That’s what I thought too.”
This was getting ridiculous.
“They’re right, Van.”
He glared at Corde. “This is all your fault.”
The other dragon grinned, the smile stretching from ear to ear. “Just because you’re being a grump doesn’t mean our advice isn’t valid.”
“Hey, what’s going on in here? I heard voices.”
“Oh come on,” he griped, eyes looking skyward as Kylie entered the room.
“Kylie, is that you?”
“Hey Elin! What’s going on?”
“Oh, Vanek got a letter. He was dumped.”
In front of him Corde handed the letter over to Kylie who skimmed it quickly. She looked up, her luminous violet eyes focused on him. “Have you gone after her yet?”
Laughter erupted from the phone as Vanek slammed his head back into the bed repeatedly.
“Why does everyone keep asking me that?!” he half-shouted.
“Because,” Kylie said patiently. “This is a cry for help. It’s basically a tailor-made situation for you to go make a huge demonstration that you care and want to keep her.”
“See! We told you!”
“I hate you,” Vanek told Corde. “This is all your fault.”
His friend, though it sure didn’t feel like it right now, just kept on smiling like an idiot, completely happy with what he’d engineered.
“Okay. Fine. I’ll go chase her down! But how do you geniuses propose I do that? She’s not answering her cell phone or her hotel phone. I even asked and they said she’s not there. I paid for someone to go knock on the door.”
“That’s a start,” Kylie said.
“I…may be able to help with that,” Elin said, her voice slightly tinny and distorted over the phone.
“How?” Despite the grief his friends were giving him, they were his friends, and they had his best intentions in mind.
“My hands are tied when it comes to giving you money and killing the Outsiders. But I have a lot of resources at my disposal for trying to find out where those bastards are hidden. Including a few things that I shouldn’t. Give me an hour, and I’ll find out where her phone is. We’ll track it until you get to her.”
Vanek stared at the phone, open-mouthed in astonishment. “That can’t be legal.”
“It’s not. Would you rather I not do it?”
“NO! Please! Do it,” he said, calming down. “I’ll take whatever help I can. Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it. Literally, don’t tell anyone. I feel bad about the situation you’re in, but we don’t have a lot of time. My superiors might not want to give you another chance, but I’m willing to. Don’t prove me wrong, Vanek. I’ll be in touch.”
The line went dead.
He looked up at Corde.
“This is all my fault,” the gray-eyed dragon said merrily. “And don’t you forget it.”
Vanek got up and crossed the room, embracing his friend swiftly.
“I won’t.”
Chapter Eleven
Harlow
“So you have six floats currently?”
“I do.”
The representative for Barton City University sat forward in his chair, one elbow resting on the upholstered arm, hi
s small brown eyes flicking between her and the tablet he carefully guarded with his free hand.
“Doctor” Charley Browne, as he apparently preferred to be addressed, was a short man with thick-rimmed glasses and an arrogant demeanor indicating he was used to being listened to and followed with a minimum of pushback. Harlow had no idea what his position at the college was, but she felt terribly, terribly sorry for anyone who had to put up with him.
She’d made the mistake of asking him if he was a family practitioner, or if he did work at hospitals. That had preceded a five-minute lecture about how the term “Doctor” doesn’t always mean medical doctor. He was a Doctor of Theoretical Behavioral Analysis Science, or something like that. She hadn’t paid any attention. This was a sales pitch for her company, not a lecture at his school.
“Now, your profile does say that you were hired for the Barton City Founders Day Parade, is that correct?”
She tried not to wince at the leading tone, knowing full well where the conversation was going to turn. Avoiding the disaster with Vanek would have been amazing, but it had been plastered all over the news in town for several days, much to the amusement of many. Harlow had hoped that her next contract would be out of town, and she could be on the move again, but her emails had been going unanswered, leading her to believe they’d decided to forego hiring her.
So when the Homecoming department at BCU had contacted her about possible availability for having a homecoming parade with floats this year, she’d jumped at the opportunity. It meant less wear and tear on her tractor trailer and she could get to work on things right away.
“We saw the news last week...it says here that you have one float base capable of supporting larger constructs. Is that still accurate? It says brand-new. Were you forced to replace the damaged one?”
Harlow did wince this time. “I had initially hoped to replace it with a brand-new one, yes. But unfortunately that deal fell through, so I’ve been working hard to restore the damaged one.”
“Will it be ready in a month’s time, do you think?”
“Absolutely!” she said with more conviction than she actually felt.