Obviously the watcher had moved back through the trees; anything else I would have seen. I had no idea whether he’d seen me, but I had to presume he had. Which meant getting out of here.
Fast.
I pushed away from the RV and ran to the next one, dropping to my knees and crawling underneath. The asphalt was cool and smelled of oil—evidence of the number of leaky vehicles that had parked here over the years. Once through, I climbed to my feet and ran to the rocky shoreline, jumping down the slight embankment and keeping low as I ran toward the pier. I was heading away from the car, but right now that was probably the safest option.
I reached the ramp that crossed the water to the pier, then risked taking a peek at my surroundings. Though a nearby RV was blocking the majority of my view, I couldn’t see anyone in the immediate vicinity. But people were stirring in the various vehicles, and lights were beginning to flicker on—yellow blooms whose brightness wouldn’t last long against the growing light of day. I had to get to the trees before then.
I bit my bottom lip, torn between ducking under the ramp and getting wet, and taking the higher, less secure route through the RVs.
The higher road won. I wasn’t about to run around all day in wet shoes.
I pulled myself up the rocks and ran for the back of the nearest vehicle. Murmured conversation rode the air, followed by the buzz of a microwave timer going off. I peered around the RV’s corner, saw that the blinds were still shut, and ran for the next vehicle. There were three more RVs and a long stretch of nothingness before I reached the tree line. It seemed a mile away.
I blew out a breath, and once again told myself that Damon would be here soon. All I had to do was stay out of harm’s way long enough.
And as much as the thought of relying on someone else to get me out of trouble rankled, it was definitely my best option now.
I ran for the next RV, pressed my back against the metal side and listened intently for any sign that the shadow might be near, then repeated the process.
Then that huge expanse of empty parking lot was upon me. I contemplated it warily, mouth dry and heart racing. Of course, it was always possible I’d seen nothing more than one of the campers out for an early morning stroll, but I did not dare take that chance. Not with the way fate had been playing my cards of late.
Even as that thought crossed my mind, the wind shifted and suddenly I knew I was no longer alone. My gut twisted and with a soft cry of denial I half turned, my fist rising, ready to punch, to fight. But it was already too late. A leather-clad arm snaked around my neck and forced me back against a body that was thick and muscular, and smelled of ash and death.
But he was draman, not dragon.
“Got you at last, my pretty,” he whispered, his harsh tones whispering past my ear.
Just for one second, the fear that churned my gut got the better of me, freezing my limbs and turning my thoughts to mush. But as his arm tightened around my neck and started cutting off my air, adrenaline surged.
I shifted my foot and stomped down on the top of his as hard as I could, then clenched my fist and elbowed him in the gut. His grunt was an explosion of air and his grip released a little, giving me air but not freedom.
I twisted my chin to the side, dropping it down into the pit of his elbow so he couldn’t cut off my airway any further, then reached for my flame, dragging it through my body and pushing the explosion of heat back into his.
Such was the force that it wrenched him away from me. His arm tore away from my neck, his watch catching and cutting my skin, but I spun around and kicked him, as hard as I possibly could, in the groin. He might be draman, and therefore tougher than most humans, but he was still a man. He made an odd sort of groaning noise and dropped like a stone.
I turned and ran for the trees. I didn’t head for the car simply because I had no idea if it was safe to do so. I had no idea whether it was safe to run through the open parking lot, either. After all, these men had weapons and had shown a penchant for using them.
The thought sent a fresh surge of energy flooding through my limbs, and I made it to the trees in record time. I didn’t stop there, but ran deep into the middle. It might be only a small wood, but no one could get me in their rifle sights or creep up on me in here. The ground was too strewn with leaf matter and other rubbish.
I leaned back against a tree and tried to catch my breath. My limbs were trembling and my heart raced like a wild thing. I might have defended myself, but—just like in the past—it had scared the hell out of me.
Maybe I should leave this to the experts.
Maybe I should just pack up and go home.
Only it was too late for that now. They knew who I was, where I lived, and what I did. There was nowhere safe for me to run, not without endangering the lives of everyone around me.
Besides, I didn’t have much left besides my integrity, and how could I live the rest of my life, knowing I’d walked away from my one chance to avenge Rainey and save her soul?
The strident blast of a car horn made me jump, and I looked out through the trees to see a green SUV come to a halt on the road almost directly opposite my position.
The fear leaped again, but even as I pushed away from the tree, ready to run, the window wound down and a familiar face appeared.
Damon. Relief spun through me. I raced toward him and jumped into the passenger side of the car. He took off immediately, the tires squealing and no doubt waking those still asleep in the park.
“There’s more than one—” I said, grabbing the seat belt and buckling up.
“Yeah, I know,” he cut in. “We’re obviously dealing with a large organization, not just the half dozen or so I’d presumed.”
“But how could such a large group exist without the council or the other cliques getting wind of it?”
“The fact that no one does know suggests Julio’s fears could be right, and that there is a clique behind it somewhere.”
“But a clique wouldn’t back a draman uprising.”
“No, but they would use draman as foot soldiers in a war. Dragons are great manipulators. The draman might not even realize what they’re actually fighting for.” His expression was grim as he glanced at me. “And remember, dragons are collectors. Wealth, land, and power are all prizes worth fighting—and backstabbing—for.”
“So if all this is the beginning of a planned uprising against the kings, why kill a king’s son and risk possible exposure?”
“It’s possible they were given no choice. If there is a clique behind this, Lucian might have recognized one or more of the players.”
“Lucian being Julio’s son?”
“Yes.” He glanced at me, expression cool yet again. “And considering a couple of the men involved are from your clique, that should probably be our first avenue of investigation.”
I might not like my king’s or my clique’s ways, but I still felt honor-bound to defend them. After all, not everyone there had grown up to be an arrogant bastard—just a good percentage of them.
“That doesn’t necessarily mean clique involvement. For all we know, it could be an underground movement of draman.”
“But why would draman kill draman?”
I snorted softly. “Killing is an accepted part of dragon culture, and regardless of what dragons may think of us, we are a part of that culture. And for all we know, this whole mess could be nothing more than a territorial dispute between draman.”
“A territorial dispute won’t fly. Both towns were on separate, unclaimed dragon lands.”
“And draman can’t dispute property?”
“Of course they can, but a territorial dispute wouldn’t lead to such complete destruction of life.”
No, I guess it wouldn’t. “If there is a clique behind it, will you have to go to the council and make this an official investigation?”
“I can’t. Not until we know for sure what’s going on here.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
He glan
ced at me. “Yes. I can’t move against a clique unless I have the approval of all the other kings.”
“Then I’m praying like hell that there isn’t a clique behind it all.” Because if the council got involved, things could go very wrong. Not just for my own quest, but for draman in general. “So, what’s next?”
“We find Deca Dent and its owner.”
“You don’t think they’ll be expecting that?”
“Probably.”
“And you don’t care?” I said, squinting across at him.
“Something like that.”
And he thought I was crazy? “Well, I’m not going to walk into anything blind,” I said, and reached back to grab my bag, which I’d spotted earlier on the backseat. Once I’d located the phone, I punched in Leith’s number.
“Who are you phoning?” Damon asked.
“A friend,” I said, then added when Leith answered, “Hey, babe, I need some help again.”
“You are going to end up owing me a fortune in food,” he said, voice heavy yet hinting at amusement.
“Dinner for a year is worth the price, trust me.”
“You say that now, but you’ll be complaining when you actually have to foot the bill. What can I do for you?”
“I need you to find out what you can about a club called Deca Dent. Oh, and if you can also check out a guy called Hannish Valorn for me, I’ll be eternally grateful.” I paused, then added, “But tread carefully on that one—he’s the Nevada king’s son.”
“Delightful,” he said drily. “I’m gathering you need this ASAP?”
I grinned at the exasperation in his voice. “Of course.”
“I’ll see what I can do. Oh, and Janelle says to tell Death he’s not only a fool, but he needs an attitude adjustment.”
“Several people have already told him that, including me.”
“I bet you have,” Leith said, amusement in his voice. “Oh, and there’s no death certificate for Seth Knightly. But there’s been no activity in any of his bank accounts and he hasn’t worked or paid taxes, as far as I can tell. For all intents and purposes, the man has disappeared and might well be dead.”
Which didn’t really help solve the matter one way or another. “So there’s no rumor as to why he disappeared?”
“Nothing concrete.” He hesitated. “But I did hear a whisper that he was involved in some land transaction that went sour, and had to leave the state fast.”
Instinct prickled. Maybe it was coincidence that his disappearance might have been due to a land dispute, and maybe it wasn’t. Either way, it was a rumor worth chasing.
“I gather you’re hunting up information on that?”
“Of course.”
He said it like I’d offended him, and I grinned. “Thanks.”
“No probs. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can, Mercy.”
“Who was that?” Damon said as I hung up and shoved the phone back into my pocket.
His voice sounded a little tight, and surprise ran through me. “A friend, as I said. He runs Phoenix Investigations, a very successful PI agency.”
“And this Janelle he mentioned?”
“You were listening? That’s not very polite.”
“If you wanted to keep the conversation private, you should not have had it in the car.”
Again there was a touch of tightness in his voice, and I shifted to look at him. “You’re annoyed.”
“Of course I’m annoyed. I was just called a fool by someone I don’t even know.”
I grinned. “Janelle’s a psychic who works for Phoenix. I think she’s older than the moon itself, and she’s very forthcoming with her opinions.”
“Being old is no excuse for rudeness.”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. “Oh yes it is. Just ask her, if you ever happen to meet her.”
“It’s probably lucky I won’t, given her opinion of me.”
I gave him a quizzical look. “Why is this bugging you so?”
“Because it does,” he muttered, voice as dark as his expression. “You think this Leith fellow will come through with the information?”
Once again, he was changing the subject rather than discussing what was going on in his mind. It was frustrating, but if he thought I was going to give up, he was badly mistaken. I might not have much time with him, but I was going to use it to get past the barrier, to see and understand the core of the man. “Leith usually comes through with whatever I need.”
“So you’re close?”
“Yes.”
He flexed his fingers against the steering wheel and it suddenly hit me. Death wasn’t happy with the realization that there were other men in my life. And as realizations went, that was pretty damn good, if only because it was further evidence that he wasn’t as immune to me as he was pretending.
“Is that a problem for you?” I added, a hint of my amusement bubbling through in my voice.
His expression seemed to darken, and I hadn’t thought that was possible. “Of course it isn’t. I just wanted to know if he could be trusted.”
“He’s been helping me find leads on this case, and I’d trust him with my life.”
“Why?”
I raised my eyebrows. “Why does it matter?”
“Because you said earlier that you never trust anyone, and yet you’d trust this man with your life.”
“I trust you, too. Which, according to you, makes me strange.”
“That’s true, too.”
This time a smile teased his lips, breaking the tension and the darkness shadowing his features. But what he said was true enough. It was odd that I’d trusted him so readily, yet there was just something about the man that made me feel safe. And that was rare when it came to fire dragons and me—although given my history with them, the actual attraction I felt wasn’t surprising. I did tend to have a thing for bad boys.
“So where are we headed now? Until we find out where Deca Dent is, we’re sort of stuck.”
“As it turns out, you’re not the only one with friends.” The last of his tension slipped away under the growing warmth of his smile. “And mine also have the capacity to use the Internet.”
“So much for Death being a lone ranger who cares for no one.”
“Friends are not loved ones. There is a difference.”
“How would you know if you’ve never had any loved ones?”
“I had a mother.”
“Had?” I glanced at him, and caught the hint of sadness that washed across his features. “She’s dead?”
“Yes,” he said, and then, frustratingly, shifted the topic again. “How do you feel about a cooked lunch?”
“That depends on where we’re having it.”
“It happens to be a pretty apartment overlooking a certain club of interest.”
I couldn’t help smiling. “And would you happen to know the person who owns this apartment?”
“No, but I’m sure they won’t mind us making use of their facilities for a while.”
“And where might they be while we’re doing this?”
“The south of France, according to the neighbors.”
“Convenient.”
“Totally.” He glanced at me. “I’ll cook.”
“This morning you said you couldn’t cook.”
“No, I said I couldn’t do pancakes.” He glanced at me. “There’s coffee on the floor at the back.”
I twisted around in the seat and saw two cups sitting in a take-out tray. “You took time to grab coffee? When there’s who knows how many bad guys coming after us?”
“The bad-guy ranks are currently two down. If we keep picking them off, the odds will be on our side sooner or later.”
His voice was philosophical, but it wasn’t something I wanted to think about. I might be determined to find the people behind the cleansings and Rainey’s death, but I really hadn’t gone as far as thinking what I’d actually do once I’d found them.
Perhaps deep down I’d never really though
t that I would. “Is there nothing that scares you?”
He considered the question for what seemed an inordinate amount of time, then simply said, “Yes.”
I raised my eyebrows. “What?”
His gaze met mine, but those dark depths were totally unreadable. Once again I had no idea what this man was thinking or feeling, and in some ways, that was even more scary than the situation we’d found ourselves in.
“You scare me,” he answered at last.
“Me?” I said, surprise making my voice little more than a squeak. “Why the hell would I scare you?”
He hesitated for a moment, then said, “Because you don’t react as expected.”
I had a strange feeling that wasn’t what he’d actually meant, but I also knew he wouldn’t admit to anything else. Not yet, anyway.
Chapter Eleven
I leaned back in the kitchen chair and stared out the dust-covered windows. Damon’s idea of pretty was vastly different from mine—no surprise, I suppose, given he apparently found plain brown draman extremely attractive.
The apartment was part of an old confectionery factory, and it was still very industrial in feel. Old bricks, hard steel, bright chrome, and polished concrete were the flavor of the day.
But it was directly opposite Deca Dent, and provided the perfect refuge to spy on the club. Not that there was anything or anyone to spy on at the moment. The place was as deserted as an old cemetery.
Of course, we still did regular perimeter checks, just in case they used the rear entrance.
“Would you like any more steak?” Damon asked.
He was sitting opposite me, but his bare feet were caressing the bottom of my leg and there was a heated, hungry look in his eyes. The meal he’d cooked had catered to one hunger; now the other had come to the fore. Even after we’d spent a good percentage of the afternoon twined around each other, exploring and caressing and loving until exhaustion hit and the meal was ready.
But as much as I wanted nothing more than to touch and be touched, I also hungered to be something other than just another sexual partner. It might never amount to anything permanent, but I wanted to be remembered as more than just another woman in a long line of them.