He was falling, he knew.
What a disaster.
He found himself staring too long, and it wasn’t until his phone buzzed again that he came to himself.
“Goddammit,” he sighed, trudging back to his own master bathroom to get ready to go back out to the hotel and take care of the slot machine problem. He also had to talk to HR about Louis having been fired which meant he had to hire another stage manager and who knew what else was going on.
He found it difficult to tear himself away as he showered and dressed. Before he left, he checked on the egg, now a bold shade of blue as it rested under the heat lamp. He reached out to caress it tenderly, and lost track of time again, sighing to himself before he made his way out the door.
He didn’t lock it this time, leaving the door wide open so Lucy would be sure she was a guest and not a prisoner.
* * *
Jack found himself more than a little distracted as he went about his business. He had been distracted for days with one thing and another, but this was entirely different. He wasn’t distracted by grief or anxiety now. He was distracted by…
Don’t even think about it, he told himself.
Love.
He didn’t want to use that word. It all seemed absurdly fast when she had been hating his guts, or putting on a good show of it just a couple of days ago. And yet, he had heard that it often worked this way with shifters. He had trouble believing he could ever hold onto something like a mate. But now he started to wonder.
Was Lucy the one?
He didn’t want to think about it too much. It seemed like an unreachable wish. He focused on his work, keeping an eye out for gangsters, but he saw no one suspicious. His mansion, he thought, was secure enough.
The only real vulnerability was his connection to both Lucy and Sean. If the wrong people discovered it, they might track down Lucy. Then there was the egg. Jack was in his office behind the lobby of the hotel, typing out emails to HR regarding Louis, the former stage manager, when his hands froze, his fingers suspended over the keyboard. He thought of the egg that had a little dragon child in it and no parents. He couldn’t think of anything more helpless and innocent. Dragon eggs were incredibly valuable if you knew the right people.
Would Sean’s killers know the right people?
If there was any chance of the egg falling into the wrong hands…
Jack choked on a cry, swallowing the lump in his throat and rubbing his eyes. He checked his watch. He had more to do, but it had been a couple of hours already. On a whim, he called Lucy’s cell even as he felt a spike of anxiety at the thought of speaking to her after they’d slept together. He’d never really cared about feelings either after any other conquest. But Lucy was different.
“Jack?” Lucy’s voice was crisp and sure. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah,” Jack said, tapping his fingers on his desk. His office was huge and sat in a corner that looked out on the shopping thoroughfare in the middle of the hotel. The place was crowded. Business was booming. None of it seemed to matter next to the importance of both Lucy and the egg.
“I just wanted to check on you guys,” Jack said. “Make sure you’re doing okay.”
He sounded, he thought, like any suburban dad, calling home from work to check on the fam. It gave him a warm feeling inside that he found himself wanting to hold onto.
“Yeah,” Lucy said. “We’re fine. I rubbed the egg with some olive oil and I talked to it and played some music. I think it likes music. It turns a really bright blue but still dark? That’s good, right? And I cuddled with it like you’re supposed to. You should hang out with it when you get back. I think it needs you.”
His heart felt too big and sore.
“I will,” he said softly. “I just gotta finish a few things and I’ll be home soon.”
“Okay, we’ll be here,” Lucy said.
“Right. Okay, love you. Bye.” Jack hung up, realized what he’d said and felt seemingly every drop of blood in his body rush up to his face. “Ugh…”
Love you. Bye.
“Oh…” He let his head drop to the desk. He was unaccustomed to feeling so keenly mortified. Feelings coming fast and furious potentially due to the nature of mates and shifters was one thing even given their particularly strange circumstances.
But he’d said it. He’d said it out loud after one night of hot sex. He’d said he’d loved Lucy.
She was going to think he was out of his mind.
“Oh no…”
Jack whacked his head against the desk and when his phone rang again, he just groaned.
* * *
“Honey, I’m home,” Jack muttered to himself as he kicked the door closed.
He had managed to overcome his mortification, he thought. There was always the chance that Lucy would think he’d intended to say it, which was not the case at all. It had just been a simple reflex, though seemingly from a muscle he hadn’t known he possessed.
He still felt weird about it. He’d spent that energy on shopping. He’d gone to the shops in the thoroughfare and bought the egg another, softer and prettier blanket. It was a pastel teal blue that he thought would offset the navy nicely.
Then he’d gone a little nuts and bought Lucy a few things.
He’d bought her a couple of dresses and a purse. It was random stuff. He’d had an urge spoil her suddenly. It made no sense. He knew that. He kept telling himself they weren’t together. They’d slept together once. He’d be lucky if anything close to it ever happened again. He wanted to feel that sense of connection again, that sense of knowing and being known. But he couldn’t put that on her. It didn’t seem fair.
Still, what woman would turn down a nice designer purse? Even someone as kooky as Lucy had to at least want to keep it, he figured.
“Lucy?” He called out her name, and not immediately receiving an answer as he made his way from the front door to the big sitting room where they’d made love, he wondered if he’d been duped.
Lucy had been so angry and then suddenly she’d been fine. Maybe that was just how Lucy was, maybe she was just that fascinated with the egg. But what if she’d tricked him? What if she’d gone so far as to sleep with him and gain his trust, only to leave and make herself the target of killers? What if that sense of knowing her had been a complete delusion?
“Lucy?” He said, shakily this time.
“Jack!” Her voice was crisp and clear and came from that sitting room and only now did he hear the sound of music coming from there. Except this time it was Motown.
Lucy was standing in the middle of the room, or rather she was dancing. She was wearing jeans and a purple sweater that he’d bought her. Her hair was down and brushed out, forming fluffy curls that made her look soft. He could see her freckles again. She was holding the egg in her arms like a baby as she danced around the room, humming along with “I Second That Emotion.” She grinned up at him with her pretty pink lips split in a grin and held up the egg.
“We’re dancing!” Lucy said. ”The egg’s a little purplish! The notepad said that’s healthy during movement. Cool, huh?”
Jack stood there in the middle of his big, fancy sitting room with its glass walls and fountain and chairs that cost as much as a car. He was still holding the shopping bags bearing gifts as he watched Lucy dance around with the egg with a big grin on her face.
He suddenly saw everything he’d ever wanted and his heart felt too tender, as if somebody had ripped some protective outer layer off and left it too naked and raw.
“Cool,” he whispered.
12
Delilah
“I’m a genius,” Delilah said into the air. “I’m an amazing genius and everyone should bow before me.”
The plan had gone better than she’d expected. Lucy’s intellectual curiosity and perhaps some dash of self-awareness had seemed to override her rage at having been kidnapped. That was lucky, Delilah though. Damn lucky. Because this whole kidnapping plot had been a wild shot in the dark. S
he couldn’t think of a greater risk than having let her charges almost get killed on the off chance one would save the other. But it had worked. Her instincts were good, she thought.
Jack had left the house again, following a few hours of bonding with both Lucy and his orphan egg. He’d gone to get them food, with a smile on his face bigger than Delilah had seen from him yet. The couple was truly coming together after all. They just needed that final push into true love’s embrace. Then Jack could settle down and they could raise the dragon egg together, two dopey creatures in stupid love. The puzzle pieces were so very close.
Delilah treated herself to a very big cocktail in a very tall and skinny glass to celebrate her almost success. She drank at the big round bar in the middle of Jack’s casino and played video poker, though she was rusty. She had just doubled down when she heard Katz’s voice behind her.
“Bold move,” Katz said. He sat down next to her at the bar and cast a wary eye at her giant cocktail. “Your drink is glowing.”
“They put neon ice cubes in these!” Delilah said, speaking loudly over the din of the casino. She shook her souvenir cup and took another sip. The drink had a lot of booze in it but it tasted just like an orange creamsicle. Dangerous stuff if you weren’t careful. “Isn’t that ridiculous?”
“It’s absurd,” Katz said laughing. “So how’s the mission?”
“It’s great!” Delilah said. “They’re practically married already. Took a risk-”
“It was a good risk,” Katz said. “You had to take the chance. And I told you this mission was going to be unconventional.”
“That was I was thinking!” Delilah said, feeling triumphant as she drained the rest of her orange creamsicle booze. She had taken off her leather jacket due to the sweltering heat of Las Vegas and now she wore a tank top. Katz was wearing a thin t-shirt and she couldn’t help but let her gaze drop to the bulge of her bicep peeking out of his short sleeve.
She put it down to the booze.
“And what about the bad guys?” Katz leaned on his hand and regarded Delilah, seeming amused by her slightly buzzed state. Katz had a sharp jawline and a head full of little dreadlocks and big dark eyes. She lost track of what he was saying, just a bit overwhelmed by the entire effect.
“The bad guys,” Delilah mumbled. “Right.”
“Yes,” Katz said, laughing. “The gangsters that killed Sean? What about them?”
“Oh yeah!” Delilah took a breath, the booze rushing to her head. She had been relieved the first time she’d realized that angelic agents like herself could still feel the effects of alcohol.
She had yet to see Katz properly drunk but now the thought of it put a goofy smile on her face. She wondered what he was like when he was drunk and not worried about the next mission or the Angelic Dimension in general. Probably a lot of fun, Delilah thought.
“Yeah,” Katz said, nodding and looking like he was having a pretty good time humoring her. “Have you kept up with them? Keep an eye peeled, Delilah.”
Something about his tone jerked Delilah out of her contented stupor and she blinked at him, abruptly sobering up. “Did I miss something, Katz?”
“Not yet.” He grinned at her and threw her a wink that made her sigh. “I just like to keep you on your toes. Make sure you don’t miss anything.”
“What would I do without you?” Delilah asked, rolling her eyes.
“I shudder to think,” Katz said, and then he was gone, having vanished into thin air.
Delilah pursed her lips, wishing he’d stuck around a little longer. She beckoned a cocktail waitress over and ordered a water, pounding it before she finally hopped down from her stool where she’d been playing Black Jack. She left her card full of money, provided to her by the Angelic Dimension itself, in the slot for the next player to find, and went to check and see if any gangsters had tracked down Lucy or the egg.
Just minutes later, she discovered that gangsters had indeed tracked down Lucy and the egg.
“Oh shit.”
They were staking out the mansion. There were two guys in a black car parked just across the street. Delilah was stealthy enough not to be seen. She crouched on a low wall behind the branches of a tree down the block. She had binoculars and she squinted through them, just enough light from a street lamp beamed down into the black car to reveal that the two men had guns.
They were clearly going to strike soon.
Delilah brought up the phone function on her Oracle device and dialed Lucy’s phone.
“C’mon, girl,” Delilah muttered. “Pick up, pick up…”
“Hello?” Lucy sounded like she was laughing. She was really having fun taking care of that egg.
It may have warmed Delilah’s heart just a little.
“Lucy!” Delilah said. “This your...mystery friend. They’re coming for you. You gotta get out.”
“What-”
“Lucy, they’re coming for you. The men who killed Sean. Get the egg and get out of there. Get somewhere safe and call Jack!”
“How did you know-”
“Just go!”
13
Lucy
Lucy hung up the phone and a thrill of fear coursed through her body. The mystery friend, she supposed, was the same person who’d told Jack to find her. Someone was pulling strings. She didn’t like that at all, even though it was helpful in this case. There was something almost otherworldly about it. It was as if she and Jack had a guardian angel. But Lucy had never believed in that sort of thing and the idea of angelic phone calls wasn’t exactly the pragmatic kind of thinking she was used to.
On the other hand, she hadn’t believed that dragons were real before, much less human beings who could turn into dragons. She liked knowing that, it turned out. It made her feel as if the world was so much bigger than she imagined. If dragons were real then what else was real?
Maybe guardian angels.
“Okay,” Lucy said to herself. “Okay, egg.”
She’d been holding the egg in her arms all day. She’d danced with it and rubbed the olive oil on it and talked to it and sung to it. She’d been taking such good care of it and she felt a kind of kinship with the thing. The egg was small and helpless and it needed people to look after it. Lucy didn’t think of herself as small or helpless in the least. But having become so close to Jack and feeling that comfort of having someone around who worried about whether you were safe or not and tucked you into bed, she realized that maybe she’d needed someone to look after her. Or if nothing else, maybe she’d wanted it for a long time and not known it.
That it was Jack Damon of all people felt like a fitting punchline.
They’re coming for you, the voice had said.
Well, that was great but what did it mean? Lucy scrambled, jumping up with the egg still cradled in her arms. She ran to Jack’s room and threw open his closet doors, looking for a backpack or some kind of case she could carry easily that would hold the egg. She shoved her way through suits and coats and shirts on hangers, muttering obscenities, and looking for bags. When she turned her head to see several nice designer bags hanging on hooks, she sighed in relief.
She grabbed the fancy black leather messenger bag hanging in Jack’s closet that looked like it had never been used and carefully packed the egg inside it. It looked like she was carrying a bowling ball in her back and the thing was nearly as heavy as one. But it would have to do. She ran back to her room and put on her shoes. She was wearing jeans and a t-shirt that Jack had bought her and now she grabbed the cute designer purse he’d given her as a random gift the night before.
The purse had been a strange thing. He’d been fumbling and almost blushing when he’d given it to her. He’d seemed as confused about it as she was.
For a thrilling moment she thought; is it because he’s in love? She’d felt her heart expand in her chest at the thought. It was like a balloon in her chest. But she’d only whispered thank you and then he’d talked about his day; his business and her care of the egg. She stil
l couldn’t make heads or tails out of it.
Now she threw the purse over her shoulder and the messenger bag weighed her down as she staggered through the house to find an exit in the back. She direly hoped that Jack’s house was not as secure as it appeared. She hoped it wasn’t as difficult to get out of as it was to get in anyway.
When she heard a thumping sound from the front of the house, Lucy gasped and tears of fear pricked her eyes.
“Okay, okay, egg. We got this…”
But her legs were shaky even as she ran though wide, glassy corridors past room after seemingly useless room. The house seemed too big suddenly, absurdly large for one person. No wonder Jack Damon now seemed to her like the loneliest man in the world when he was living in a house like this.
She found a sliding glass door to the massive yard outside, with its big lawn and ornate sprinkler system and succulent gardens.
She didn’t see any exit in the immediate vicinity, just high walls that she wouldn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of climbing.
“Shit,” she muttered. “Shit.”
She heard a noise from inside the house and whipped around, nearly stumbling as the momentum from the weight of the egg in her bag pushed her. She saw a shadow inside the house and when the moonlight hit through the glass door just right, she saw a gun and didn’t think before she ducked down behind a big hydrangea bush next to the wall.
Lucy bit her lip so hard she nearly drew blood now as she scrambled from hedge to hedge toward the wall, taking a chance there might be a gate somewhere she could climb. There had to be a way out from the inside. When she found the iron-barred gate, she sighed in relief and then squeaked in fear again as she heard the rumble of the sliding glass door opening.
“Shit shit,” she whispered. The iron gate had curlicues built into it and Lucy climbed a stone planter next to it before finding a foothold in the gate. It was awkward and unstable with the heavy egg hanging in the bag from one shoulder. There were also spikes jutting out of the top of the gate. She could easily trip and fall and then one of those spikes would stab her. “C’mon,” she murmured. “C’mon…”
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