Relic Hunters: BBW Dragon Shifter Paranormal Romance (The Complete Trilogy)

by Bianca James

  Saira had never felt so complete. Or loved.

  Chapter 22

  Blane adjusted his wispy comb over with saliva slicked fingers as the hostess approached. Things had been going to plan and he felt for the cigar tube in his jacket pocket to reassure himself that it was still there. A quick stop at the universities archives had paid off, providing him with a little something to give him the upper hand. For once, he was glad to have sat through the tedious, mind numbing lecture when, the previous year, the university opened an exhibition featuring artifacts from one of the earliest scientific expeditions to Columbia in the 1800’s. Once closed, the exhibition pieces had been catalogued and returned to the university archives. But one tiny nugget of information during the tiresome lecture lodged in Blane’s subconscious and remained dormant, waiting for a reason to be resurrected.

  The problem posed by airport security had perplexed him, at first, but security screening manned by poorly paid and underappreciated public servants was no match for his sharp mind. He was on top of his game right now and firmly in control. Surely there was now time for some flirting with the female cabin crew during the otherwise monotonous flight to Vienna. Perhaps a little diversion with the leggy blonde stewardess was just what he needed when he arrived. Yes, he was feeling particularly lucky today as he flashed his best smile at the hostess as she approached his seat.

  Olivia Neuhaus was no stranger to the delusional fantasies of overweight, balding, middle aged businessmen flying her routes. Some of them could be quite flattering, if truth be told. But something about 85C sent shivers up her spine. And back down again. Usually, she brushed off unwanted attention as just harmless flirting. After all, most businessmen were like dogs chasing a car. They’d have no idea what to do with one if they finally managed to catch one.

  But 85C was different. There was nothing harmless about him at all. Quite the opposite, in fact. Creepy was the only word she could come up with to describe the feeling that welled within her each time he tried to make a pass at her. And those beady, piercing little eyes of his never smiled, even when his mouth did. He was one creepy guy, for sure.

  “Excuse me, miss. Can I have some more coffee, please?” he asked with a sickly sweet smile.

  Without answer, Olivia turned on her heel and headed for the galley to fetch a fresh pot of coffee. When she returned, 85C was waiting expectantly, empty coffee cup placed on his tray table, ready to be refilled.

  Leaning over, she poured the freshly brewed coffee cautiously to avoid spillage. Perhaps she lingered a bit too long, sending the creepy passenger the wrong signal because she was quite sure she felt his hand brush against her leg, just below the hem of her skirt.

  The look on his face and the obvious stirring in his pants suggested that she was not mistaken. There was no doubt what he’d done and done with premeditation.

  Looking right into his weird and disturbing eyes, she engaged him with her best, sexiest smile before blowing him a hint of a kiss. If there was one thing Olivia did well, it was working her plump, enticing lips to her advantage. She knew how to work the equipment, that was for sure.

  Blane knew he was right to take a chance with this one. He knew she was the one the minute he set eyes on her. He was on a roll.

  With a slight jolt that looked like it might have been induced by mild turbulence, the nearly full coffee pot sloshed over the rim. Scalding hot coffee landed in Blane’s lap, as if drawn to the growing bulge in his pants before soaking through to the flesh beneath.

  “Motherf—”

  What had been a peaceful flight moments before turned quickly into to a cacophony of screams and cuss words as Blane tore at the seatbelt buckle in a desperate attempt to escape to the bathroom.

  Chapter 23

  “There’s something you need to know,” Bryce began, his words spiked with hesitation and reluctance.

  “Something more alarming than you being a man who can turn into a fire breathing dragon? More unbelievable than a bunch of dragon shifters being made custodians of the 30 pieces of Judas Iscariot’s silver? Seriously?” Saira crossed her arms and readied herself for what Bryce was about to divulge.

  “I’m a high end antiquities burglar.”

  Saira placed her hand on her chest and feigned shock with wide eyes and a gaping jaw.

  “No way! You? With your high tech gadgets, Formula One driving skills and Spiderman abilities? I’m shocked! Deeply shocked!”

  She slapped the back of her hand against her forehead and made like she was about to pass out with astonishment.

  “Very funny. Don’t quit your day job for an acting gig,” Bryce responded.

  “Well, I thought you were going to say something other than the bloody obvious.”

  “I wasn’t finished . . . like I said, I’m a cat burglar, as you well know, but those same skills brought me to the attention of Her Majesties government and I perform or at least used to perform, the occasional ‘job’ for them. Off the books, so to speak.”

  Now she really was gob smacked. He was a spy? What the …

  “Maybe spy is overstating it a tad. More like burglar for hire who does MI6’s dirty work when they don’t want to risk exposure. They have real spies for the cool stuff,” he interrupted before she could voice her amazement.

  For the first time she didn’t even flinch at the fact that he knew what she was thinking and what she was about to say.

  “Told you you’d get used to it,” he said with a cocky tone and an equally cocky grin.

  “And you’re telling me this now because . . .”

  “Because we’re going on a little excursion.”

  “To …” She gestured impatiently with her hand for him to continue.

  “To save the world.”

  “Of course we are. How did I not know that,” she shot back, rolling her eyes.

  Chapter 24

  The air-conditioning duct was luxuriously spacious compared with some Blane had experienced recently. They sure knew how to build accommodating ductwork on the continent, unlike their British counterparts. Just as well, too as he had no idea how long he’d be staked out there, waiting. Poised like a coiled spring, ready to pounce.

  In the meantime, he’d made himself quite at home with a variety of energy bars and sports drinks. He’d even had the forethought to bring some empty bottles to pee in. Success came to those who were prepared, that much he knew beyond a doubt. Yes, he’d thought of everything, including a little surprise for his guests. Everything, that is, except some kind of salve to soothe the itching of his scalded member. The damn thing itched like a son-of-a-bitch. That would be the last time he flew Austrian Airlines — “A charming way to fly” my ass. He grimaced as another jolt of pain flashed through his groin. Those stuck up hostesses really needed to be taught a lesson. Maybe once his mission was complete he’d do something about that, but for now, he had to concentrate on the next phase of his cunningly devised plan. Victory was so close he could almost smell it. Again, his hand went to his pocket.

  They would come. He was sure of it. It wasn’t as if they had any real choice. This was the only way the game could play out. He knew it and he was positive they knew it, too. All he had to do was be patient and keep his eyes on the objective from his hidden vantage point behind the ventilation grille. Patience. That was the name of the game.

  Chapter 25

  “Can’t we at least try to talk to Europol?” Saira turned to Bryce as the taxi left the hustle and bustle of the airport taxi rank, a pleading look in her eyes.

  “And spend days locked up being interrogated while The Circle get their hands on the Spear of Destiny? The game will be well and truly over if they do that. We don’t have the luxury of time while the wheels of bureaucracy churn at their leisurely pace.”

  Saira knew he was right and reluctantly agreed. He made a convincing argument and there was no alternative other than to bypass the law and go rogue. It was for the right reasons and she should have been satisfied with that. But she w
asn’t. She feared being branded a thief for the rest of her life and never practicing her skills in the field again.

  His hand came to rest atop hers in a comforting gesture. “You know what’s at stake. Sometimes sacrifice is the price for greater good. But, I’ll do my best to see it doesn’t come to that. I’m hoping for a solution that keeps us both safe.”

  “Hoping? Is that what it’s come down to? Hope?” A look of surrender darkened her face.

  “No, I didn’t mean it like that. What I meant was that I’ve got a plan and someone to back me up. I’m just worried they might bail on me, but I’m almost certain they won’t.”

  “Do I get to meet your backup plan?”

  “No.” Bryce shook his head. “Nobody gets to meet Simon. He’s a ghost.” As he spoke, Bryce took a small earpiece and a military style throat mic from his pocket and began to connect the components before removing the backing of the adhesive tape and fitting the mic to his neck.

  During that moment of silence, the taxi driver’s dark, hooded eyes regarded them with suspicion in the rear view mirror. His English wasn’t very good, but the word ‘Interpol’ was clear in any language and his two passengers had a guarded way about them. Especially the man. There was something seething below the surface of that one. Amir El Fassi had seen his share of tough guys during his time in the service, but this one was different. He just couldn’t put his finger on it. And the friction between the strange man and the buxom woman seemed to be restrained for his benefit. ‘Never get between an onion and its peel,’ his father used to say, ‘you will get nothing but it’s stink.’ In other words, mind your own business, Amir. Yes, his father had been a wise man.

  Amir pushed all thoughts of this odd couple and their guarded behavior from his mind as he drove toward Hofburg Palace. After all, what harm could they possibly do at a museum that had long closed for the day?

  Chapter 26

  The one snippet of information that Blane took away from the South American cultural anthropology lecture was a reference to the deadly poison dart frog. So toxic was its venom that one tiny little, brightly colored frog could kill a dozen men. So fast did it work that even if an antidote was available, it couldn’t be administered fast enough to do any good.

  Although Curare, a plant derived poison, was often used on the tips of blowgun darts by the Central American natives when hunting, the toxin from frogs of the Dendrobatidae family was far more deadly and much faster acting. Indeed, it was this usage of the frogs poison for this purpose that gave the frog its common name — Poison Dart Frog.

  He also recalled seeing the display of antique artifacts being carefully prepared and the great care that was taken when positioning the poison darts and old wooden blow guns in the display cases. It had been decided by the university’s insurance company that a fatal poison was too risky to be handled by the employees. Instead, a dart coated with a batrachotoxin from another species of Poison Dart Frog was chosen for the exhibit. While potentially fatal, the primary purpose of that type of dart was to induce an instantaneous nerve paralyze in the hunted animal. For the native hunters, that often proved to be the most efficient way to capture large predators, even human warriors from warring tribes.

  And so it was that Blane decided to use a historic cultural exhibit to solve the problem of getting a weapon through airport security and one strong enough to take down a man faster than he could morph into an enormous dragon. Of course the blow gun had to be cut down to a size that would fit inside his cigar tube, but a lack of accuracy wouldn’t be a problem if he could get close enough. And that, was exactly what he planned to do.

  Chapter 27

  Both their faces were set with a look of concentration and total focus as the digital display scrolled through a myriad of possible combinations. As each second passed, Saira’s anxiety level ramped up a notch. Bryce remained at ease. This wasn’t his first rodeo.

  “How long does it usually —”

  She was cut off by the resounding thunk of the magnetic lock releasing. Bryce arched a brow and threw Saira a cocky told-you-so smile.

  “Nobody likes a wiseass,” she muttered, reaching for the door handle. For a brief moment she hesitated. This whole smash and grab thing still didn’t sit right with her. There was more at stake than her inner qualms and with that in mind, she threw the door open and entered the dark interior of the Imperial Treasury.

  “Am I right in thinking that this wasn’t how you saw your first visit to Vienna?” Bryce quipped as he followed her through the doorway.

  “Hardly. Why is it so dark in here?” Her voice was laced with anxiety. The darkness was closing in on her. Some intrepid archaeologist you are, Saira, she thought.

  “This is some kind of airlock. That next set of doors are the fire doors. Once we get through them, the ambient light from the security lighting will be enough for what we need to do.”

  He was right. As soon as the thick, heavy fire doors sucked open at the press of a button, Saira felt a lot less claustrophobic. But what they were doing didn’t feel any more comfortable. She wasn’t a museum thief. Her job was preserving and protecting historically significant treasures, not stealing them. The inner conflict was beginning to overwhelm her, but she forced herself through the open fire doors and past Bryce.

  Something was different about him. She did a double take and looked him up and down.

  “Is that a new —”

  Bryce brought his fingers to her lips, silencing her. Before he turned to lead the way, she was sure he winked at her.

  Chapter 28

  Just as he was beginning to doubt himself and his cunning plan, Blane glimpsed a furtive movement through the grille in the air duct. He knew they’d come. Knew they wouldn’t be able to help themselves. Straight into his trap.

  There they were. Little Miss Do-Right and that sneaky bastard. And what’s with those bloody black body suits he wears, anyway? Some kind of dragon shifter uniform? No matter. Right now he was just a man and there was enough poison in his dart to incapacitate an adult elephant. Let’s see how he likes that.

  Reaching into his pocket, Blane pulled out the cigar tube, extracted the loaded wooden blowgun from it and poked one end through the ventilation grille. He was ready. There was a gap of only 3 yards between his position and the display case housing the spear. If he aimed for the unmissable center of mass instead of trying anything fancy like going for a jugular shot, he was golden. It might take a few seconds longer to react with the nervous system that way, but all that mattered was that he didn’t have time to shift into his dragon form. Blane had it all figured out.

  Aiming for the area between the shoulder blades, Blane puffed his cheeks like a chipmunk and blew the dart free of its shortened blowgun. The dart struck exactly where he was aiming. He was on a winner. Without waiting for the dart to take effect, he pushed the grille from its housing and with a spritely maneuverer that belied his size, shimmied from the air-conditioning duct, landing firmly on his feet right in front of his soon to be captive dragon.

  But something was wrong. He could sense it. The girl looked terrified and surprised. But he didn’t look in the least bit surprised. No . . .

  Bryce reached over his shoulder and plucked the sharpened wooden shaft from his back and examined it with exaggerated curiosity before flicking it away like it was of no consequence.

  “Two words for you Blane . . . Miguel Caballero.” Bryce crossed his arms and smiled knowingly.

  Simon would be happy to know that his special requisition did arrive in time to be useful. Of course, at some point Simon was bound to be asked to explain his need to order a twenty thousand pound Miguel Caballero full body suit in the highest grade ballistic fabric, but that would be a conversation for another time.

  “Who the fuck is Miguel —”

  “Caballero,” Bryce cut him off. “Think of him as the Armani of bulletproof fashion wear for the rich and famous. If his stuff is good enough for Obama, then I was quite certain it would pro
tect me from whatever you had planned.”

  Bryce looked at the splintered ruin of the dart on the floor before continuing, “I must say, I did expect more from you than that.” He waved a dismissive hand toward the dart.

  In the distance, fast approaching sirens could be heard. Before long, the entire building would be surrounded be armed police.

  “Oops, honey, I think we may have accidently tripped the alarm.” Bryce moved toward the cabinet containing the Spear of Destiny.

  Saira ignored him. He seemed to have that under control. Instead, she closed in on Blane who was still trying to process exactly what had gone wrong with his perfect plan.

  “This is from Kitty.” With blinding speed and bone crunching accuracy, Saira threw a perfectly placed right hook at Blane’s jaw.

  She spun toward Bryce and as an afterthought said, “And this is from me.”

  She spun a full three sixty degrees and followed up with a lightning fast spinning back kick to Blane’s head, knocking him out cold before he realized that was happening.

  Bryce stared with a mixture of amazement and admiration in his eyes. “Where did you learn to do that?”

  “Krav Maga class. I figured that if it’s good enough for Jason Bourne . . .”

  Epilogue

  Saira adjusted her night vision goggles and again marveled at the liberating feeling of the high tech body suit that Bryce had commissioned especially for her. It was like their own private uniform, something only the two of them knew about and shared.