by Anna Lowe
With no time to waste, he rushed into motion. First, he slipped back into his room to dress, then closed his eyes to make a mental connection to Finn.
I need you, man. At the car, as soon as you can.
He was tempted to leave Finn to watch over Laura, but she was in good hands with Inés and Adriano, who knew the property’s meticulously designed escape routes and backup plans.
Finn’s voice sounded in his mind. On my way.
Marco bit his lip. Finn, like Inés or Adriano, didn’t ask questions. He jumped into action because he was needed, just like in their military days. That was another thing Marco had taken for granted for too long, and another thing he vowed to change as soon as circumstances allowed.
He stooped to give Laura one more kiss, though she barely stirred. All the better, because he wasn’t sure what he would say if she did. Then he hurried downstairs and jumped into the Land Rover with the sandwiches Inés pressed into his hand. The moment Finn hopped in, Marco revved the engine and took off up the road.
Finn braced himself against the dashboard as Marco raced around several hairpin turns. Shifting to dragon form and flying would have been faster, but Marco doubted Quintus wanted an audience with two sweaty, panting dragons. So he let the Land Rover swing around each turn and strain up every incline.
“Does this have anything to do with last night?” Finn asked after a few pensive minutes.
Marco shifted into a lower gear as they headed up another steep hill. “I’m not sure.”
Finn mulled that over for a moment, then went on. “Does it have to do with you and Laura shagging last night?”
Marco would have bristled at his friend’s choice of words had it not been for Finn’s measured, careful tone. Finn wasn’t ribbing him. He was trying to get a handle on the situation, as Marco would have if the tables were turned. So he refrained from baring his teeth and used the same tone for his reply.
“I’m not sure of that either.”
Finn nodded slowly, studying him out of the corner of his eye. Then he looked ahead again. “Could it be a trap?”
Marco nodded curtly. “Yes. That’s why I need you.”
“What about Laura?”
Marco’s gut roiled at the suggestion of any harm coming her way. But he shook it off. “Inés and Adriano know what to do.”
The fact that Laura had learned a hell of a lot in the past week was a comfort too. He didn’t want her to use those newfound skills, but if push came to shove…
He shoved his phone into Finn’s hands, trying to focus. “See if you can get Quintus on the line.”
Edgy silence filled the car as Finn punched in the number and waited. After a full minute of unanswered rings, he disconnected, then tried again.
“Nothing,” Finn concluded after his fourth try. “No answer.”
Marco tightened his grip on the steering wheel. What was going on?
I have a bad feeling about this, Inés had said. And, hell. The longer he drove, the more Marco agreed.
He slowed on the final climb to the old dragon’s roost of a house, then cruised down the palm-lined driveway, scrutinizing every detail. When he came to a halt, both he and Finn remained seated, studying the scene with keen eyes.
Finally, Marco pushed open his door. Finn did the same and wordlessly set off around the house, keeping to the shadows. Marco approached the front door at an angle, every sense on high alert.
He’d survived many a bloody ambush, and though the same eerie silence permeated the scene, he didn’t have the feeling of gun sights trained on his heart. Just something…not quite right.
Which any fool could have sensed when no one answered the front door. In fact, it swung open when Marco knocked, and he peered cautiously inside.
“Hello?”
His voice echoed through the sprawling, opulent home.
Where’s the staff? Finn called into his mind.
Marco frowned. Quintus was known for fiercely guarding his privacy, and the few staff he kept were usually off on Sundays — like today. Still, Marco had expected to find one or two people around.
Sent away? Lured away, perhaps?
He called out again. “Dom Quintus?”
A shadow flickered across the floor-to-ceiling windows on the mountain side, but Marco didn’t flinch. That was Finn, checking the perimeter.
Nothing. No one, Finn reported.
Marco stepped inside. The house that had pulsed with life and energy the previous night was spookily devoid of activity.
“Dom Quintus?” he tried again.
If the house hadn’t been deathly quiet, Marco might not have heard the faint scratch from his left. He spun, ready for action. Then he advanced to the study, where the sound had come from. The door was ajar, and from behind it—
Scratch…scratch. There it was again, barely audible yet spooky as hell.
Marco moved quickly, staying out of a direct line of the door. If anyone or anything came hurtling out of there, he’d be ready. His ears twitched, tuning in to the scratching sound.
Wait. Not just scratching. There was a faint moan as well.
High alert, he grunted into Finn’s mind.
Then, moving a millimeter at a time, Marco peered into the study.
Blood, he reported to Finn in a cool, steady voice. Lots of it.
Finn made an affirmative grunt and continued his check of the perimeter.
Marco tuned out the groan and the scratch. The scene had all the makings of an ambush, and he couldn’t get distracted. So he let his eyes skip over Quintus, who lay in a pool of blood, and took in the rest of the room. His nostrils flared, but there was no scent of anyone else present — just the overwhelming aroma of the cologne Quintus used. A bottle of the stuff lay overturned on the desk.
Finn stalked up behind Marco, murmuring as he took it all in. Someone is covering their scent.
Marco nodded. Someone who is no longer here.
As sure as he was of that, he proceeded cautiously. Only after he and Finn completed a full circuit of the room, ensuring no ambush lay waiting to be sprung, did Finn take up position at the door while Marco hurried to the injured dragon’s side.
“Quintus.” Marco touched the old man’s arm.
Quintus groaned, and his fingernails scratched over the marble floor.
“Senhor…” Marco urged, carefully turning Quintus to recovery position.
The old man was breathing, but for how long? Marco tore off a sleeve and held it to the gaping wound beneath Quintus’s heart.
“Oh…” Quintus moaned.
Marco shook his head. “Save your strength. We’ll get you help.”
“Oh…” Quintus gulped hard, then made a harsher, raspy sound. “D…”
Marco tried to shush him, but Finn called from the door. “Wait. What did he say?”
Marco blinked. Quintus was speaking, not moaning? He bent over the older dragon, listening intently.
“Oh… Liv…”
Marco froze. “Olivia?”
Quintus gave a weak nod, keeping up the raspy sound. “D…”
“Duarte,” Finn grunted from the door.
A wave of anger flooded through Marco. That Olivia and Duarte had tried pulling something was no surprise. But being bold enough to attack Quintus in his own home? That was shocking.
“Where is she?” Marco all but yelled at Quintus. “Where did they go?”
The old man’s mumbles grew weaker, and Marco held back the urge to shake him.
“Olivia, Duarte — and Luigi, I’d wager — didn’t do this, only to run away,” Finn pointed out, echoing Marco’s thoughts.
Marco nodded. A growing sense of unease kept his pulse racing in a way he’d never experienced before. He’d been in touch-and-go situations hundreds of times, with much more at stake than one old man’s life. But now…
Laura! his dragon cried.
His vision went red, and he struggled for self-control. Laura was well protected by Inés, Adriano, and the the prop
erty’s security measures. He had to think rationally. First and foremost, that meant continuing to apply pressure to Quintus’s wound. The old man had lost a lot of blood, but shifter healing powers might pull him through if Marco could stem the blood flow.
“Let’s say this is phase one in Olivia’s plan,” he called to Finn, thinking out loud. “What’s next? Where? Why?”
Before Finn could answer, the front door flew open, and a thin man trotted in. A deer shifter — one of Quintus’s many lackeys, Marco realized. Roberto, if he remembered correctly.
“Good Lord! Quintus! What happened?” Roberto cried.
Marco opened his mouth to explain, but Roberto’s eyes went wide before he could speak. Slowly, the deer shifter backed away.
“You. You’ve killed him!”
Marco growled under his breath. First of all, Quintus wasn’t dead — yet. Secondly, Marco wasn’t the guilty party. He’d simply been the first on the scene.
Then it hit him. First on the scene. No witnesses.
His eyes met Finn’s.
Not an ambush. A setup.
Finn jutted his jaw, coming to the same conclusion.
Roberto backed away, pale as a sheet. “Don’t move. I’m calling the Guardians.” He turned to run.
Marco rolled his eyes. Clearly, Roberto had no idea of protocol in cases like this. First, you neutralized the perpetrator, and then you called for backup. Not that Marco was the perpetrator in this case.
Finn stuck a hand across the doorway, blocking Roberto’s way.
Roberto screamed, flattening himself against the nearest wall. “Don’t kill me!”
“Not planning to. Yet,” Finn growled. “Just shut up and stand still.”
Roberto froze. Marco, meanwhile, pulled out his phone and clicked through his contact list, muttering the whole time. It took everything he had to scroll past Laura’s number. He had to take this one step at a time.
Finally, he found the number he sought — one he’d only added the previous evening — and dialed.
“Paloma?” he barked the moment the young woman picked up. “Someone tried to kill Quintus. I need you here — at his place — right away. Bring someone you trust.”
Someone good with puncture wounds, Finn mouthed.
Marco grimaced as Paloma fired a dozen questions at him, then cut in without answering. “He’s alive — for now. But I have to go. Whoever did this is on the move, and I have to track them down.”
Thankfully, Paloma had the sense to let him go with a steady, “I’m on my way.”
Marco nodded, but he didn’t let her go yet. “Be careful. All right?” His voice dropped ominously.
Then he hung up, making a mental note to add Paloma to that new list he’d created of people to appreciate.
“You.” He snapped his fingers at Roberto. “Come over here. Move!”
Roberto hesitated then all but tripped over his own feet in a rush to obey.
“Press down here.” Marco transferred the makeshift bandage to Roberto’s hand. “Harder. Good. Now, don’t move.”
“Where are you going?” Roberto cried as Marco ran to the door.
“We have to track down those responsible for this.”
“But… But…” Roberto’s protests grew fainter, and Marco and Finn sprinted outside, tearing at their clothes as they went.
“This way,” Finn shouted, heading for the deck beside the infinity pool.
Marco followed at a full sprint. Whatever clothes he didn’t get off would rip away when he shifted. Speed was everything now.
His heart raced as he hurried to the edge of the deck. Beyond it was a hundred-foot drop over a rocky cliff. Beyond that, the stunning coast of Madeira beckoned, and miles of open sky.
One…two…
At the very last moment — on three — Marco launched himself upward and spread his arms, letting his dragon take over. In the blink of an eye — and a flash of searing pain — his skin gave way to leathery dragon hide, and his arms elongated into wings.
Whoosh. Whoosh. His powerful wings beat the air as he rapidly gained altitude.
Where to? Finn swooped into position beside him.
Marco soared toward the coast, so angry, he was on the verge of spitting fire.
Laura, his dragon cried. Quick! We have to get to Laura.
He did, but he had to have faith in her, too, as well as in Inés and Adriano. Most of all, he had to think things through. Olivia was clearly the brains of the operation, but Duarte and Luigi were involved too. Were they likely to stay together, or had they split up? And if so, where would each head?
Below him, the hairpin turns he and Finn had driven over earlier flashed by in a rush. The skies were clear, but that was no solace. Not with his enemies on the prowl.
You okay? Finn murmured as they raced on.
Marco scowled. What Finn really meant was, Are you keeping a cool head?
The answer was, barely.
Before he could reply, a screech pierced his ears. Marco twisted in midair, searching the skies.
“Olivia,” Finn muttered in his raspy dragon’s voice.
Marco nearly spat a plume of fire at the green dragon who swooped up from a hollow below Quintus’s mansion.
“Marco, querido,” Olivia called coyly. As if they were still at that goddamned party and not on the verge of battle. “And your friend — Flynn?”
“Finn,” the Irish dragon growled.
Olivia cackled. Marco scanned the sky behind her, but Duarte and Luigi were nowhere to be seen. He hovered, wary of falling into another one of Olivia’s traps.
“What have you done? What do you want?”
Finn shot him a stern look. Yes, his roar was echoing off the mountain slopes, and sooner or later, a human would hear and look up. A thin veil of shifter magic prevented most sightings, but if a human focused in exactly the right direction at exactly the right time, alarms could go out.
Madeira was thinly populated, so the chances were slim. But it was also an island full of myths and legends, so it wouldn’t take much to turn a casual sighting into all-out panic.
“I have executed another brilliant plan.” Olivia puffed out her chest in pride. “And you, querido, have one last chance to win over your mate.”
Marco frowned, confused. Laura was his mate, and she was at home under the watchful eye of Inés and Adriano.
“Not her. Me,” Olivia snarled, reading his mind.
“You are not my mate,” he hissed.
They circled each other. Marco flapped his wings in a furious, pounding rhythm, while Olivia moved more smoothly, snapping her tail seductively at each turn. Finn orbited around them both, ready to assist as needed.
“You said you loved me,” Olivia pouted.
Bile rose in Marco’s throat. “That was years ago, when I was young, stupid, and blind.”
Olivia’s eyes narrowed, and her voice became a dangerous purr. “Were you, querido? Or did you miss the chance of your life?”
Marco snorted. “The chance to be chained to a cheating, manipulative liar? No thank you.”
Olivia’s eyes glowed in fury, but she caught herself and tut-tutted. “My, my. You are bitter. But you are not stupid, Marco. This is the chance of your lifetime. The chance to rise above yourself — and rise above all others. I’m talking about wielding power — real power.”
He twisted abruptly, catching Olivia off guard. But she changed direction a heartbeat later, staying just out of reach.
“Enough power to rule Madeira?” he barked.
Olivia flicked her tail, teasing. “To begin with.”
Marco fumed. “And what next? Lisbon? Porto? Or do your wild ambitions stretch beyond?”
She cackled in reply. “I like the way you think, querido. But Madeira and Lisbon are enough for me. The Lombardis can have the rest.”
Marco shot a wary glance at Finn, who scowled. She really is going for it, isn’t she?
She was, and the scary thing was, Olivia had enough brain
s to pull off that audacious scheme.
“I see,” Marco managed. “And what exactly is in it for me? I mean, since such a move would destroy my honor and any chance at respect.”
She laughed. “Oh, querido. Don’t you know? There is honor in power. And respect comes to all who rule.”
“Respect is something one earns,” he corrected.
She shrugged. “Fear, then. Same result in the end.”
Marco couldn’t believe his ears.
“Come, Marco,” she said, laying it on thick. “The time to lie low has passed. And you of all people shouldn’t be envious of my success. I had to leave you to move up in the world. But I did it for us. We were good together. We can be good together again, but with riches and power beyond your wildest dreams.”
Marco shook his head. Riches and power weren’t beyond his wildest dreams. They weren’t anywhere on his radar.
But Olivia was right about one thing. The time to lie low had passed. He had made a mantra out of not getting involved, and that had been a mistake. It was time for him to act — and fight, if necessary — for what he valued.
He spat a plume of fire toward Olivia. A thin one that was more symbol than threat. I am not interested in your crazy plans. I never was, and I never will be.
It must have come through loud and clear, because Olivia gave an exaggerated sniff. “Honestly, I’m not surprised. But I am saddened. You leave me no choice.”
Marco growled in reply. “No, Olivia. You leave me no choice.”
He darted forward, ready to shove her to the ground — if not to kill her outright, then to capture her and turn her over to Madeira’s Guardians.
Olivia cackled. “Oh, is that so?” She clacked her claws in the dragon equivalent of a finger snap, and four — no, five — dragons swooped out of hiding. They zoomed over to their mistress and turned in tight circles, protecting her. “Let’s see. You and dear Flynn here—”
“Finn,” Marco’s friend muttered.
“—will be killed. Such a pity.” She sniffed. “Meanwhile, Duarte and Luigi will have secured your little Fire Maiden for me.”
Marco roared in fury. To hell with the risk of being observed. Olivia was threatening the woman he loved.