Drakon's Past

by N. J. Walters

  Now she looked at him with total disbelief. “You expect me to believe that educated, intelligent men and women think these mythical creatures exist and they want to what, capture one so they can drink its blood and stay young forever?”

  He gave a decisive nod. “Yes.”

  …

  Nicodemus Wilde was a very handsome man and could kiss better than anyone she’d ever met. Heck, the kiss she’d shared with him, short as it had been, had been better than any sex she’d ever had. Which was a very sad observation of her sex life.

  Too bad he was a sandwich short of a picnic, as her grandpa used to say. He truly believed there was a secret society who wanted to use the statues she’d found to imprison a dragon so they could drink the creature’s blood.

  If the situation weren’t so tragic and scary, she’d be rolling on the floor laughing. “You really don’t expect me to believe that, do you?” Maybe it was his way of trying to get her to give him the statues. That made more sense.

  He released a long sigh. She tried not to notice how his chest expanded when he took a deep breath. “Expect, no, but it’s the truth nonetheless.”

  Okay, now she was perplexed. She didn’t like the edge of uncertainty creeping in. The fact he wasn’t trying to convince her that he was telling the truth confused her. The sincerity in his voice didn’t seem fake.

  She glanced back at the phone on the coffee table, willing it to ring. What was taking so long?

  “Constance.” She briefly closed her eyes, trying to ignore the way her body went weak when he said her name. The man was walking, talking sex. And she didn’t need any distractions, especially not from a man who wanted something from her.

  She shook her head. “No, I don’t want to hear it. All I want is to get a call, trade my sister for the statues, and forget any of this ever happened.” Simple and easy was always best.

  “You don’t honestly think they’re just going to let your sister go, do you?”

  “Yes, I do. I have to.” She pointed her finger at him. “As far as they know, I don’t know a damn thing about them. And I want to keep it that way.” She jumped up and began to pace. “You need to leave.” Whoever had taken Abigail was probably watching the house and knew she had company.

  None of this made sense. In the end, they were just statues, made with natural materials, carved by some artisan years ago. They had value, but they certainly weren’t priceless. Not worth kidnapping a woman over.

  Unless Nic is telling the truth, a small voice in the back of her head whispered. Could it be true? Could there be a secret society that believed a creature such as a dragon existed? It made no sense to her, but then again, many things in this world didn’t make sense to her.

  “Okay, say I buy your theory.” She glared at him. He’d made himself quite at home. He was sitting in the center of the sofa with his long arms spread out along the back and his legs kicked out and crossed at the ankles. He looked as though he didn’t have a care in the world. She was about to blast him when she noticed the tension in his shoulders and tightness of his jaw. No, he wasn’t nearly as relaxed as he seemed.

  “Not that I do,” she was compelled to point out. “But say for a moment I did.”

  He inclined his head. The man was wearing jeans and a leather jacket, but there was something almost regal in his posture. “And if you believed, for a moment?” he asked. The bastard was humoring her.

  She scowled and pointed her finger at him to make her point. “How can a statue of a dragon be dangerous? How can it be used to help them trap a dragon?” She felt stupid even suggesting such a thing.

  “I don’t know.”

  Constance was taken aback. She honestly hadn’t expected that. She’d expected a long explanation. “You don’t?” That didn’t make any sense. If he was trying to convince her that his story was true, wouldn’t he have facts and explanations ready to toss out at her?

  He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees and clasping his hands together. “Nope. I only know that if the Knights want the statues, they have a heck of a lot of power.” He captured her with his dark eyes. He looked worried. “All I know is that if they get those statues, it will mean trouble.”

  “For the dragons?” The words were ripped from her in a fast whisper.

  He nodded, and an expression of sorrow washed over him. “Yes.”

  Whether she believed in dragons or not, Nic obviously did. Maybe this secret society had hurt someone he knew. That was a logical explanation. “Nic,” she began, not quite sure what she was going to say.

  “I know you don’t believe me. Not even for a moment.” He tossed her words back at her, but not in a sarcastic way. If anything, he seemed sad.

  She gripped the back of her chair and dug her fingers into the fabric to keep from going to him. It was crazy, this urge she had to comfort him, to reassure him. She was the one with the problem, not him.

  “But Jeremiah Dent is a very dangerous man. He obviously has people on the ground here, people who were able to kidnap your sister.”

  “How do I know?” she began. She licked her suddenly dry lips. “How do I know you aren’t just making all this up as some elaborate hoax so I’ll give you the statue?” Because the thought had occurred to her. He could have her sister stashed somewhere and be using the other buyer as a smoke screen.

  But he hadn’t known about the other buyer until he’d shown up here.

  She rubbed her head, ignoring the pounding behind her eyes. She didn’t know what to do or who to trust. Not when it came to her sister’s safety. There was nothing more important than getting Abigail back alive and unharmed.

  “You don’t.” Once again, he didn’t try to convince her that he was telling the truth, but she felt it all the way to her bones. Dragons weren’t real, but the threat to Abigail was.

  “So what do I do?” Her knees were wobbling again, so she used the chair to help prop her up as she walked around it and sat.

  “You wait until you’re contacted. I’ll go with you.”

  “No.” She shook her head, adamant about this. “If they see you, they might hurt Abigail.” She had to make him understand. “She’s my baby sister.”

  “I’ll follow covertly. They won’t see me.”

  “If they’re watching the house, they already know you’re here,” she pointed out. She didn’t see any realistic way he could help her.

  “I’ll leave, fall back, and watch from a distance.”

  Constance studied him and a faint smile tugged at her lips. He was nothing if not determined. “You’re too big to be missed. What are you, six and a half feet?”

  “Six-nine, and that’s beside the point.”

  That was completely the point. “Why do you even want to help? Do you want the statues that badly?” The statues obviously had a much deeper value than she’d ever imagined in her wildest dreams. And like all such items, there was a price to be paid when one stumbled across it.

  “Yes, I want them that badly.”

  Constance ignored the sharp pain in her chest. What had she expected him to say? That the statues didn’t mean anything to him. That he was doing this to help her. Yeah, that’s not the way life worked. It was a good reminder of her top priority—Abigail.

  “I also want to get your sister back for you,” he added. She considered herself a pretty good judge of character and heard the sincerity in his voice. He would help her, but she could never forget that their priorities were different. She wanted her sister back safe and sound above all else. Nic wanted the statues.

  “Fine. Then you need to go.” She looked again at the innocuous black phone. There was so much riding on it. “I don’t think the phone will ring while you’re here.” And each second it didn’t ring was one second longer her sister was being held captive.

  He pushed off the couch but didn’t head for the door. He walked toward her and crouched down in front of her. He was so broad he blocked her entire view of the rest of the room. All she could see w
as Nic.

  “We’ll get her back.”

  “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” She wanted to believe him but knew she could only depend on herself to rescue her sister. And she’d do whatever it took to make it happen.

  “I never do.” He reached out and brushed the tips of his fingers over her cheek. They were slightly rough, but his touch was tender. Constance closed her eyes against the onslaught of sensation. She wanted to turn her face into his touch but didn’t dare. She couldn’t allow Nic to get under her skin any more than he already had. He was a virtual stranger. His well-being could not take precedence over that of her sister.

  The leather of his jacket creaked, and she felt him getting closer. She opened her eyes just as his lips touched hers. Unlike the first time, this kiss was softer, seeking. He grazed his lips over her, lightly caressing. Her toes curled in her sneakers. Her breath caught in her throat.

  She wanted to throw herself into his arms, to feel them securely wrapped around her, keeping all her worries at bay. But that wasn’t realistic, and it also wasn’t her. Constance had been raised to depend on herself and to do whatever needed to be done.

  She pressed her hands against his chest, trying to ignore the heavy thud of his heart, the shifting of heavy muscles beneath her palm, and the heat that sank into her skin.

  Nic eased back, and one corner of his mouth kicked up. “Don’t worry, Constance. I won’t let you down.”

  That was partly what she was afraid of. How much more appealing would he be if she knew she could truly depend on him. “You have to go.” Was that her voice, all husky and deep? She cleared her throat. “You have to leave.”

  “So you’ve already told me several times now. If I were a more sensitive soul, I’d think you were trying to get rid of me.”

  She gave a snort of laughter before she could stop herself.

  Nic smiled. “That’s my girl.” He took her phone and input his cell-phone number. “Call me if you need me.”

  When he handed it back, she gripped it tightly, holding it like it was a lifeline. He stood and walked to the door. “I’ll be close by.” Then he opened the door and walked out, closing it behind him.

  Alone, she curled up in the chair and stared at the door. Her fingers absently touched her bottom lip. She could still feel the pressure from his mouth, taste his deep, compelling flavor. She desperately tried to ignore the way his parting words warmed her from the inside out.

  His girl. She wasn’t anyone’s girl. Never had been.

  She shook off her lethargy and sat forward, glaring at the phone. She glanced at her watch. Nic had been here less than a half hour. It had seemed much longer.

  Time had to be creeping by for Abigail. Each minute an eternity. It had only been a matter of hours since her sister had been taken, but Constance was ready to have this entire ordeal over and done with. She wanted to put it all behind her.

  Well, maybe not all of it. She wouldn’t mind seeing Nic again, even if she thought he was a little off his rocker for believing in secret societies and dragons.

  She sighed and rubbed her forehead. Leave it to her to be attracted to a guy who seemed to have a hard time dealing with reality. Although, to be honest, he seemed perfectly fine, perfectly normal, other than believing in the whole knight and dragon thing.

  Maybe he’d played too many video games as a kid or was into role playing. Either way, he was the last thing she needed in her life to complicate it. Too bad, though. Nicodemus Wilde broke the hot-o-meter. He certainly revved her engines, and that was a very rare thing.

  She glared at the phone again, realizing she was using her attraction to Nic to take her mind off her sister. “Ring, damn it.”

  It rang.

  Chapter Six

  Constance grabbed the phone. “Yes.”

  “You’ve had a visitor,” the voice said.

  She gripped the phone tighter. She was right. Someone was watching the house. “The other buyer.” Best to be as honest as possible. “He tracked my email address and found out where I live.

  “What is his name?”

  She wanted to lie, to protect Nic, but her sister’s life was on the line.

  “I’m waiting,” the voice reminded her. She knew it had to be Jeremiah Dent, but there was no way she was going to let him know that she knew. The whole idea was to make him feel safe and get him the statues so he’d release Abigail.

  “He said his name is Nicodemus Wilde. I told him the statue was no longer for sale.”

  “You didn’t tell him about the other statue?”

  This time she lied without compunction. “No. I didn’t tell him about the second statue.”

  “That is very good for your sister’s continued health.”

  “I want to talk to Abigail,” she demanded. “How do I know she’s even safe?” It was eating her alive that she didn’t know how her sister was faring.

  “You don’t know. You have to trust me.” She wanted to reach through the phone and choke the smug man on the other end of the line.

  “No sister, no statue.”

  “You don’t dictate terms,” he reminded her.

  Constance had had enough. “In this, I do. If you want the statues, I need to see my sister. If she’s not at the drop point, I’ll smash the crystal statue. You’ll still have the teak one to bargain for.”

  “Don’t push me,” Dent warned.

  “I’m not. I want my sister back and you and these cursed statues out of my life.” Her voice was flat and filled with determination.

  “I’m beginning to believe you.”

  “Believe it.” She pushed her point home. “I don’t give a fuck about these stupid statues.” She swore when she was stressed. It was a habit she’d worked hard to break. She blamed her grandpa. He’d always done the same. “I just want my sister back.”

  “Very well. Get the statues and get in your van. I’ll call with details once you’re there.”

  “What about my sister?” The line went dead. She pulled her phone away from her ear and glared at it. “You hurt my sister and I’m going to come and find you.” Dent might not be able to hear her, but that didn’t matter. It was a vow to herself.

  She grabbed her phone off the table and took both to the kitchen and dropped them in her oversize purse. She slung the bag over her shoulder and went to the workroom. Even though she was alone, she looked around the space. She was beginning to feel paranoid. And maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea. They could have planted cameras in the house when they took her sister. She hadn’t looked.

  Constance prayed that wasn’t the case, otherwise they’d know everything that had happened between her and Nic. No, they couldn’t have seen the kiss. Surely Dent would have mentioned it otherwise. Plus, he would have overheard her conversation with Mario.

  She rolled her shoulders and sighed. She was not cut out for this cloak-and-dagger stuff.

  After a quick glance around the room, she opened the closet door and accessed the safe, making sure her body blocked the combination just in case. She grabbed the two statues she needed and stuffed them in the bag. The silver-and-emerald necklace beckoned her. Swearing under her breath, she draped it around her neck, hiding it under her T-shirt and sweater. At the last second, she took the other two statues and relocked the safe.

  She detoured to her sister’s bedroom and stuffed the two statues only she and Abigail knew about down the legs of a pair of leather boots, settling them in the feet. She didn’t know why she felt compelled to hide them, but she followed her instincts.

  The necklace was almost warm around her neck. She had no idea why she’d put it on. Only that she didn’t want anyone else to have it. And she wouldn’t put it past Dent to have his men try to break into the safe while she was gone. She was surprised they hadn’t already done so when they’d taken Abigail. They’d most likely assumed she’d have the statue with her. Dent hadn’t known she’d had another one at the time.

  Constance hurried out the front door. Mr
s. Karsh was standing on her front step and waved. “Hey there, Constance.”

  “Hi, Mrs. Karsh.” She kept going toward the van.

  “Everything okay, dear?” Crap, the last thing she wanted was for her neighbor to be worried about her. That would make her poke her nose deeper into her business. She meant well, but having Mrs. Karsh involved would only make a difficult situation worse.

  “I’m fine,” she said. “Just on my way to meet someone.” Which was the truth.

  “That nice looking young man who just left?” She winked at Constance. “I don’t blame you for wanting to meet up with him. If I was twenty years younger—” She left the rest unsaid.

  Now she knew for sure that her neighbor had seen Nic. No surprise there. Mrs. Karsh saw most of the comings and goings on the street. “I’m sorry, but I have to go.” Impatience was eating at her.

  “You young folks are always in a hurry.” The older lady waved.

  Constance slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine. No way could she sit in the driveway and wait for instructions. Mrs. Karsh wouldn’t go inside until she left.

  She backed out of the driveway and waved as she drove away. When she turned the corner onto the next street, she pulled over. The phone in her bag rang. She rummaged around, managing to find it just as it rang a second time. “Yes.”

  “You didn’t follow instructions.”

  A chill ran down her spine. There was someone out there watching her very closely. Nic was out there, too. She only hoped he didn’t do anything stupid and get them all killed.

  “I didn’t think you’d want my neighbor knowing your business.”

  There was a pause on the other end of the line. “You have the statues?”

  She breathed a sigh of relief that he wasn’t going to dwell on the fact she hadn’t followed his orders to the letter. “Yes, I have them.”

  He rattled off an address. “Go there and wait.” He hung up before she could ask any questions.