“We’re kind of playing things by ear right now. I honestly don’t know what to expect about any of it. But I’m glad you’re going to be here while I get my life back in order.”
“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” he said, and that was the truth.
“What about work? What will you do now?”
“You mean do I have any jobs coming up? I’m still on tap with my collector to find the other three dragons, but right now, I have no good leads. Other than that, I’m considering two different contracts but haven’t accepted them yet.” Cole took the jobs he was interested in, depending on where he had to travel, how long he would be gone, and the level of danger. The dragon collector task was an ongoing case; if and when he could find one, then he would get it.
Or not, he reminded himself, since he was all but allowing the Treasure Dragon to slip through his fingers. He hadn’t planned to care so much about the owner of the dragon, either, which made all the difference.
“And if you do find another dragon, what will you do with it?” Madalina asked.
“Sell it to the collector.”
“Not try to see if the agents will pay you more for it?”
“As far as I can tell, they believe that the dragons inherently belong in China. Which means they won’t want to pay millions to have it back in their possession. Besides, it’s always tricky when you’re dealing with people who are willing to do whatever it takes to get what they want. The collector covets the dragons. He’s dependable, predictable, and good for the money. There’s a passion to have the final four, but he wouldn’t kill for it. I can’t say the same for the agents. Maybe I’m judging them too harshly, but they were going to try to run us off the road and had no problem chasing us down several times. So no, I won’t play the pay me more money game. Two million per dragon is plenty.”
“I’m relieved you won’t have to deal with the agents after this. You or me or any of us. I won’t know how to feel to be able to just live my life again,” she finally said after a brief hesitation.
“You’ll get used to it quickly. We’ll be busy dealing with your house, not to mention my first visit to your shop. That should distract you pretty good.”
“You want to visit the store?” Madalina looked surprised.
“Of course.” He smiled at the pleased flush on her cheeks. “I’m sure I’ll have a few suggestions on how to improve business.”
She balled up a spare napkin and tossed it at him. It bounced off his shoulder. “I’m sure you will.”
Chuckling, he got to his feet. “I almost forgot. There’s one more thing . . .”
“Dessert? I’m not sure I can eat anything else. Dinner was excellent, by the way,” she said.
He picked up a medium-size box from the counter and walked it back to the table. Setting it to the side of her plate, he sank into the seat and gestured for her to open it. Nestled inside, on a bed of brown velvet, the dragon replica waited for discovery.
“What’s this?” she asked, eyeballing the box almost warily.
“Open it and find out.”
“Tell me.”
“It’s not going to jump out at you or anything,” he said with a laugh. “I promise it’s not booby-trapped.”
“It better not be,” she said, a clear warning in her voice. Picking up the mahogany box, she lifted the lid and drew in a slow breath of surprise. “But . . .”
“That’s not the real one. That’s a duplicate I had made. I realize it won’t have the sentimental value of the real one, but it’ll be a reminder of what your grandfather left you.” He watched her expression carefully, searching for any sign of distress or displeasure. All he saw was a sweet kind of gratitude.
“I have few things of sentimental value left from him—and I’m not sure any of it survived the damage to my house. When he traveled, he traveled light. A backpack, usually. When he did visit, he always brought me some little token from distant lands. A polished stone from New Guinea, a lion’s whisker from Africa, a postage stamp from Paris. He always told me a story about each item, which was my favorite part. My grandfather had a vivid imagination. I don’t recall any stories about a dragon, though.”
“Did he ever mention a trip to China?”
Madalina’s gaze went distant on a far wall. One finger tapped against the lid of the box. “I don’t remember. There isn’t a mini-gift from there, though. No story. Maybe the dragon was supposed to be it, and he just forgot to tell me the tale.”
“It’s unfortunate that he passed before telling someone about it. I really do hope the other little things he gave you survived.”
“Either way, this is very thoughtful of you. At least I have a memento, something to remind me. I don’t know when you had time, but thank you.” She stood from the seat.
Cole, anticipating her reaction, rose to his feet as well. He accepted her into a warm embrace, brushing a kiss to her temple. “You’re welcome. Thank you for letting the other one go.”
“It’ll cost you.” She tilted her face back, mischief gleaming in her eyes.
“I’m afraid to ask what.”
“A dance. You do dance, don’t you? We’ll have our own impromptu little prom.”
He laughed. “I do dance, although I’m not sure that’s the definition everyone else would give it.”
“I promise not to make fun of your two left feet. Come on. Let’s find some music.”
Cole couldn’t say no.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Madalina opened her eyes to a stream of early afternoon sunlight. Squinting against the brightness, she stretched, clutching a sheet against her chest. Sleeping this late was unusual; normally she was at the boutique unpacking new merchandise, helping customers, or doing the books. Then again, she and Cole hadn’t gone to sleep until the wee hours. When she remembered that today was the day Cole returned the dragon, she flipped back the covers, sat up, and experienced an uncomfortable jolt when she found his side of the bed empty. For a horrible moment, she thought he’d left without saying good-bye.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Cole said, striding out of the bathroom followed by a blast of roiling steam. Pushing hair away from her face, she glanced his way. A cream-colored towel wrapped his strong hips, although it couldn’t hide the more obvious parts of his masculinity. He raked a hand back through the wet length of his dark hair, the muscles of his arm and abdomen flexing with the gesture.
She released a pent-up breath. He’d just been in the shower. “For a second there, I thought you’d left without saying good-bye.”
“Next time, I’ll just wake you up with a kiss. Then you’ll know where I am and what I’m doing.” He winked and turned to find clothes that he’d laid out before his shower.
“I’ll hold you to it, although we might end up doing more than kissing,” she dared to say. The rest of the tension evaporated in the easygoing flow of their banter.
“We might.” He shot a rakish, unrepentant grin over his shoulder. Cole made short work of drying the rest of his body and changing into a fresh pair of jeans and a black button-down shirt that hugged his shoulders. “I ordered room service, too. It should be here shortly.”
“That’s perfect. As long as it’s not hot dogs.” Madalina threw the covers back and climbed out of bed.
“Not a fan?”
“I loathe hot dogs,” she confessed with a shudder. Madalina wasn’t unaware of the possessive way Cole watched her cross to the bathroom. A tingle spread over her skin, followed by goose bumps.
“How un-American,” he chided, sounding amused. “Any other food you don’t like that I should know about?” He tracked her to the bathroom doorway.
“Mushrooms, spicy potato chips, egg rolls, and most types of freshwater fish.” She made a face; he laughed.
“Maybe I should make a list,” he snorted, pulling on a snakeskin boot
.
“When I get out of the shower, you can tell me what kinds of things you don’t like to eat,” she challenged. Everyone had something that went on an unfavorite list. Cole’s eyes drifted down her body, lower, lower, until Madalina felt heat flush her skin.
“I’d rather tell you what things are my favorite. We can start with—”
Madalina fled inside the bathroom and closed the door. If he finished his thought, she’d never make it to the shower, and lunch would be postponed another hour or two. Listening to the bellow of laughter from the other room, she flipped on the shower and stepped beneath the spray.
After the shower, Madalina dressed in newly cleaned jeans and a plain green shirt. She attacked a quick lunch of deli sandwiches with pickle spears, while Cole readied for the meeting with the agents. His demeanor had completely changed. He was all business as he tucked a smaller gun into his boot and another into the back waistband of his pants. He’d eaten while she was showering and was now studying a map of the area near the festival on his phone. Knowing he was heading into possible danger, Madalina experienced her first pang of real fear. It had been easy to get swept away these last two days in his presence, and put the agents out of her mind. There wasn’t any way around what he had to do now, no way to avoid the upcoming meeting. Although she had faith in his abilities, she couldn’t help but worry that the agents might have an unexpected trick up their sleeves. Attempting to predict what someone would do in situations like these was difficult, she’d learned.
A sudden knock at the door set her on edge. They weren’t expecting company. She darted a look at Cole, who stepped over to let a man in after a quick glance through the peephole.
Attired in khakis and a faded, teal-blue T-shirt, the man was only an inch or two shorter than Cole, with a similar build. He had tawny hair with honey-colored streaks, as if he spent considerable time in the sun. Madalina guessed him to be a year or two younger than Cole, no more.
“Madalina, this is my brother Brandon. Brandon, Madalina,” Cole said as he closed the door.
Surprised, Madalina held out her hand to exchange a shake with Brandon, who smiled broadly during the introduction. She said, “Nice to meet you, Brandon.”
“You, too, Madalina. Looks like I’ll be staying here with you while Cole makes the trade,” Brandon said.
Madalina shot Cole a questioning glance. This was the first she’d heard of it.
Cole inclined his head. “He’ll be here until I get back. He’s more than capable of keeping you safe, just in case the agents send out another group to intercept you while I’m distracted. I don’t expect it—but I’d rather know you’ve got backup.”
“Shouldn’t he go with you, though? Won’t you need the backup there more than I do here?” she asked. Cole was the one going face-to-face with the agents.
“See, that’s what Thaddeus and I said, too,” Brandon interjected. “We could have had another brother come out to go with you, Cole.”
Cole waved off the idea. “I’ll be fine. Just watch yourselves here. As I told you both already, I should only be gone an hour or so—unless I get caught in another round of god-awful traffic. I’ll call if that happens.”
“If you’re not back in an hour and a half and I don’t hear something from you by then, I’m coming to the fairgrounds,” Brandon said. He withdrew a gun from his back waistband and went through a cursory check of the magazine and safety before tucking it away again.
“All right. You two be good.” Cole clasped his brother’s hand and bumped shoulders in a manly kind of half-hug.
Madalina observed the brothers with no small amount of intrigue. Somehow, meeting Brandon and seeing their close interaction made Cole’s backstory all the more real. When Cole came for her, Madalina hugged him tight and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Please be careful,” she whispered near his ear.
“I will. Don’t worry.” Cole tightened his hold, kissed her brow, and released her. His gaze lingered for a few seconds longer before he picked up a box sitting on the counter and exited the room.
“So, while we’re waiting, why don’t you tell me the story from the start? I’ve heard an abbreviated version,” Brandon said. He examined the room while he talked, as if mapping the layout in his mind.
Madalina suspected that Brandon not only wanted to know the whole story, but also wanted to distract her from Cole’s absence.
She didn’t mind explaining the details one more time.
CHAPTER THIRTY
The Summer Festival reminded Cole of a beehive: people from all walks of life buzzed through the concourse on one mission or another, hurrying between rides and games. Children screamed, cried, demanded, and pleaded. Teenagers stood in groups, the girls flipping their hair, cell phones in their hands, while boys ran from the Tilt-A-Whirl to the Zipper to the Ferris wheel and back again. The scent of kettle corn, funnel cake, and barbecue filled the air, drawing customers by the dozen. At ninety-eight degrees, the sweltering California day meant clusters of kids and adults made repeated passes through a row of water misters set up to help alleviate the heat. On any other day, he would have passed beneath the misters himself to combat the sweat beading on his brow and trickling down his spine. He wasn’t unused to tedious work conditions, so he pressed on, alert to the many faces that passed on all sides. Not just ones with Asian heritage, but anyone who seemed out of place or suspicious.
Familiar with the layout of the carnival thanks to prescouting the venue, he followed the curve of the beaten path, passing a row of games involving throwing baseballs, coins, and basketballs into various receptacles. Beyond a final row of stalls, he caught sight of the funhouse. Situated in a small clearing at the corner of the festival grounds, flanked by trees at the back, the rectangular structure appeared slightly unstable. As if a strong wind might blow the whole thing over. An enormous clown with a red bulbous nose and evil eyes stared out at the festivalgoers, towering above the walkway to the door. Colorful graffiti decorated the exterior above other graphics depicting warped mirrors, frightening disappearing floors, and stalkers in the shadow of funhouse visitors. Cole figured that the rickety appearance was done on purpose, to get a jump on fear from the start. A line of at least twenty festivalgoers waited on the ramp, tickets in hand, anxious to take their turn.
Cole homed in on a group of boys with obvious Asian heritage, yet they were too bumbling, too distracted, too absorbed in the funhouse itself to be the agents who wanted the dragon. He surveyed the area with unrelenting determination, turning a slow circle to see every angle. Although he was fifteen minutes early, he expected the agents to be early as well. He wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that they, too, had come to scout the festival grounds a day in advance, learning all the necessary escape routes.
Three Chinese men in clothing best described as nondescript approached from a different pathway, gazes locked on Cole. None of the three were men he’d seen in any of the confrontations thus far, giving credence to his idea that the Chinese had a veritable league of personnel at their disposal. He was sure these three weren’t the only ones on-site, either. More men waited elsewhere, playing lookout, on hand in case things went bad. Cole met each man’s eyes, leaving the funhouse and the crowds gathered there at his back.
This was it. No turning back now.
Just as Madalina finished telling Brandon the whole sordid story, her cell phone rang. Thinking it was Cole, she dashed for the nightstand.
“Hello?” she answered breathlessly.
“Madalina? It’s Mom. Dad and I just got your messages. What’s going on?”
Although it wasn’t Cole, Madalina was relieved to finally hear from her parents. As with Brandon, she gave them a brief rundown of the events and assured them both that she was all right. With Brandon listening in, she explained that they could remain on vacation, that a “good friend” was helping her take care of the problem here.
She didn’t have the heart to tell her folks about the damage to her house. Madalina knew they would be on the next plane out, vacation or no vacation.
“If you’re sure, honey, we’ll stay,” her mother said, sounding dubious and doubtful.
“I’m sure. In fact, for now, it’s probably best that you stay there. Let this all blow over for another few weeks. Trust me—if I needed you to come home, I’d tell you. Mostly I was worried about your safety,” she admitted. “I’ll get in touch next week. Love you.”
Ringing off, she studied the face of the cell phone as if that might precipitate a call from Cole.
“He’ll be fine. Don’t worry,” Brandon said, as if he’d read her mind.
“You sound sure.”
“I’ve grown up with him; I know him well. If he wasn’t confident of a good outcome, he would have taken me with him.” Brandon tapped a chair near the window, although he wasn’t sitting himself. “Come sit down. I’ll regale you with wild tales about Cole’s youth. He’ll kill me later, but it’ll be worth it.”
Cole shifted his stance, allowing his peripheral vision to keep track of threats from either side. He’d seen men kill in crowds before, men accomplished in getting the job done before the people in the vicinity really understood what had happened. By the time the inevitable stampede occurred, the men were done and disappearing along with the herd. In the cacophony of the festival, shots from a silencer would go unheard. Falling bodies wouldn’t be noticed for long minutes, and even then, some might suspect it was a scare tactic set up by the fair.
He felt safer here than anywhere else, however, confident that he’d cornered the men into nonaction thanks to the other variables offered by making the exchange in the open. The agents wouldn’t know whether he’d brought backup, or whether one of the hundreds of people taking photos and shooting video weren’t videoing their transaction. He was counting on the Chinese negotiator’s desperation and determination to have the dragon to stall any attack.
Escaping Vegas (The Inheritance Book 1) Page 21