His Blazing Passion: Real Men of Wildridge

by Kyle, Celia

  Allon left the ladies to take care of their diminutive charge and made his way toward his work space. Recalling what Tessa had told him, he was about to stick his head in Ragan’s cubicle when the cybersecurity specialist and his new lady love, Elissa Malkin, stumbled into the walkway in a passionate embrace. Not for the first time either.

  “Get a room,” Allon teased, startling Elissa into breaking off the kiss.

  Her violet eyes flashed and her cheeks reddened at being caught. Blinking rapidly, she turned to Ragan and thrust a paper to-go bag at him. “Lunch,” she said simply and then hurried past Allon, her blush deepening.

  Ragan rested an elbow on his wall and leaned out to watch Elissa walk away, which had recently become his favorite pastime. He blew out a puff of air and shook his head like he couldn’t believe his luck. With cause, as far as Allon was concerned. Ragan had landed himself a good one.

  “She was just dropping off lunch,” Ragan said, grinning up at Allon without the least hint of shame.

  “Hey, good for you man,” he said, holding out his fist for a bump. “You wanted to talk to me?”

  “Right, yes. I wanted to let you know I put that alert on Jilleon Anguis’s credit cards.”

  Charlie had tasked Ragan with cyber-snooping on Danque’s aunt during their morning meeting. She lived in Los Angeles and Danque’s westward track made it a safe bet to watch her carefully for any sign of contact from her nephew.

  “Okay, cool,” Allon said and was about to walk away when Ragan continued.

  “I also sent her an email with a cute puppy video attached. Once she opens it, spyware will silently install on her computer and the application will allow me to access her hard drive so I can then install a script that—”

  “Dude,” Elektra said as she and Thrett passed by, “you know damn well Allon is about as likely to understand what you’re saying as you understood when he explained the ins and outs of a search warrant.”

  “Like you’re fluent in geek speak,” Allon growled at her. She simply snorted at his tone.

  “Never said I was, but I’m better at faking it,” she said with a salacious wink.

  All of the men’s jaws dropped, and then they broke out laughing.

  “Is that Allon?” Charlie’s voice rang down the hallway from his office. His tone made Allon uneasy.

  “It’s me,” Allon called back, his nerves growing itchy. No one liked getting on Charlie’s bad side.

  “A word?”

  The others turned wide eyes on Allon at the boss’ terse summons. “Oooh,” Elektra and Thrett teased as Allon’s shoulders slumped on his way to Charlie’s office. He was in trouble, and he knew why.

  Taking a deep breath, Allon stooped to clear Charlie’s doorway and shut the door behind him. He really didn’t need the others to hear the dressing down he was about to receive. Taking the chair across from Charlie’s desk, he waited.

  Charlie maintained a relatively simple and classic office. The smell of rich oiled wood and dark furnishings made Allon think of a college professor’s office, which only added to the feeling of intimidation when the boss was peeved. He had little doubt that had been a conscious decision.

  Charlie sat in his high-backed, leather chair, one hand supporting his forehead as he stared at the report on the desk in front of him. The fingers of the other tapped a rhythm that set Allon’s teeth on edge. Of course, the report was the one Allon had worked up before going out to track down Danque, claiming to know exactly where the criminal was hiding out—which was accurate—and that he would be taking him into custody that morning—which wasn’t so accurate. When Charlie lifted his silvery-grey eyes to meet Allon’s, a chill pebbled the hairs on the back of Allon’s neck.

  “I see you, Mr. Wyvern, but I don’t see Danque Anguis. According to this, capturing him was a certainty, a done deal, a fait accompli. Yet…” He looked around as if Danque might magically appear. “What the hell happened out there, Allon?”

  Allon knew better than to make excuses, especially not to Charlie. Dragons could sense deception, and Charlie was no exception—far from it, in fact. It was well known in the dragon community and beyond that Charlie was a supremely powerful dragon. Even though the older man showed signs of aging and stood nearly a foot shorter, Allon wouldn’t dare challenge his boss unless he had a very good reason. Even then…

  The shifter world was full of just as many gossips as the human world, and some of the stories he’d heard about Charlie only reinforced the belief he was as strong as he’d ever been. Allon had even seen some things that defied logic and explanation, all hinting at abilities Charlie didn’t like to advertise. He was so secretive about his past that the running joke among the Wildridge specialists was that “Charlie” wasn’t even his real name.

  Whatever the truth was, no one in their right mind would cross the guy. Not knowingly, anyway.

  “Danque evaded capture,” Allon finally admitted, going with the simplicity of the truth, even if it wasn’t the whole truth. Forget the humiliation of his nemesis—a smaller female, no less—sabotaging his collar. He didn’t need Charlie even more pissed off that he’d taken the time for a booty call instead of chasing after a dangerous criminal. Of course, at the time, the situation didn’t seem so simple.

  The older dragon stared at him with that unwavering coolness he brought to every conversation. In this context, his expression sent chills down Allon’s spine. “According to your report, Danque Anguis should be in custody right now.”

  “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again, Charlie. I promise.”

  Charlie leaned back to study Allon. “I won’t ask you to explain yourself right now, but if this keeps up, we may need to approach this job from a different angle. Understood?”

  Allon understood all too well. If he screwed up again, Charlie would assign Danque’s capture to someone else, and that would be the ultimate humiliation for Allon. The man certainly knew how to motivate his employees!

  “That won’t be necessary,” Allon said firmly.

  A muscle in Charlie’s jaw tensed. “I hope not because—”

  A knock on the door interrupted them, and before Charlie could invite the person in, Ragan stuck his head inside, a big smile on his face.

  “Sorry to barge in, but I just got a hit on Jilleon Anguis’s credit card.” His eyes sparkled. “We got him!”

  * * *

  Chelle barely breathed as she waited patiently. She hadn’t always been a patient woman—and wasn’t always these days either—but she’d learned how to slow her breathing to the point that not even mice heard her when she didn’t want them to. Hiding in plain sight while stalking prey was a highly prized skill, and she was one of the best. Some predators preferred to slash and burn the environment until there were no dark corners remaining for the little rat to scurry. No place left to hide except to cower in the long, thick shadow cast by an incredible dragon body.

  Of course, Chelle still liked to make an entrance, always had. Even as a child, her peers and authority figures alike all called her the trouble child, the difficult one. Back then, she had been constantly reprimanded for her sassy attitude and her complete refusal to do as she was told unless she could see the benefit in it herself. She’d remained that way all these years, only becoming harder and sharper over time, and it had served her well over the years by keeping her out of unnecessary danger.

  On the flip side of the coin, her determination knew no bounds. Her expertise and deft manner of handling a situation like this made her the top of her field. But her attention to detail put her over the edge. She observed everything and forgot little of what she saw. Chelle’s mind was a steel trap, holding in every important note and tip she had compiled over the years.

  One such nugget she’d learned long ago was that when waiting for a target to emerge from a motel room, hiding by the vending machines had a ninety percent success rate. Fugitives were likely to end up at scuzzy motels that happily took cash and forgot to register guests properly. T
hey thought hiding in a room would keep them safe, and it probably would work more frequently if said fugitives didn’t also need food to survive. If they had half a brain, they’d steer clear of restaurants and hit up the motel’s vending machines instead.

  Which was why Chelle’s body was wedged in the cobwebby shadows between two ancient vending machines as she watched the door to Room Five of the unfortunately named Halfway Inn. The flashing red neon sign had most certainly seen better days, buzzing loudly as the second N flickered in and out. Mostly out. If she hadn’t been mere feet from her prey, she might have chuckled.

  Hours earlier, she’d been flying patrol over this part of the city, keeping her magic up so humans below wouldn’t spot her, in the hopes of catching sight of Danque. She’d focused on the neighborhood because it was the worst one in reasonable proximity to his aunt’s house—the perfect place for a scumbag like Danque to hide out until the coast cleared.

  Light had been fading from the sky as she watched the murderous bastard slink into Room Five and close the ratty drapes. Chelle had remained aloft and kept an eye on the room as she waited for dark to settle in. Her magic easily hid her from view when she was flying but even an invisible dragon sent plumes of dust and dirt swirling when they landed on the ground. Thankfully, she’d had the foresight to carry a bundle of clothes in her claws, and now she was dressed in a black leather jumpsuit that hugged every curve but allowed her to move freely—perfect for lurking in shadows. All she needed now was for Danque to finally get hungry and make a potato chip run to the machines.

  Her gaze never wavered from Room Five, but her mind certainly wandered. Its natural instinct was to think about her encounter with Allon Wyvern that morning, but her brain was a traitor so she shoved the thoughts aside. Instead, she focused on daydreaming about what she’d use her bonus for once Danque was locked up for good.

  Chelle never considered herself materialistic, but she definitely appreciated the finer things in life. Getting down and dirty for her job didn’t bother her a bit, but when she wasn’t working, she liked to be surrounded by nice things. Quality items that cost more and lasted longer made sense to her—couture lingerie, high-end perfume, handmade shoes and designer dresses that were tailored to show off her assets to their fullest.

  Of course, the best gift was knowing a killer was off the streets, thanks to her. A Triune at Othercross Judiciary would have the final say, but she rather hoped Danque would be confined to the snake exhibit at the Bronx Zoo. Nothing was worse for a shifter than to be sentenced to maintain their animal form for their entire incarceration.

  A movement in the shadows pulled her from her reverie, but it was gone before she could get a good look. Sniffing the air, she caught a scent that sent her blood pressure sky high.

  Allon.

  Dammit.

  She’d recognize his scent anywhere, mostly because she’d barely been able to get it out of her head since their impromptu…skirmish. How the hell had he managed to track down Danque? She grudgingly gave him props for his tracking skills, not that she’d ever admit that to him. It certainly made the chase more interesting, though.

  Didn’t matter. Allon had no doubt bribed the half-drunk front desk clerk to get Danque’s room number, but he would have no idea that she’d bribed the guy too. Only, since she knew which room Danque was in, she’d told the clerk to give anyone else who came sniffing around the wrong room number. Outwitting your competition was just as important as outwitting your targets in this biz.

  But as a massive dark shape prowled slowly down the row of rooms, Chelle realized her mistake too late. She hadn’t specified which wrong number for the guy to give out, and she watched with annoyance and alarm as Allon kicked down the door to Room Four, right next to Danque’s room.

  “Dammit, Wyvern,” she growled as she squeezed out from her hiding spot.

  Danque couldn’t have missed the ruckus coming from next door and was probably already crawling out a back window. She couldn’t wait another second or she might lose him…again. Aiming her steel-reinforced boot at the door handle, she kicked it at an angle that knocked it clean off. The door sprang open on its own, giving her full view of the bed before the door bounced closed again. Without a latching mechanism, it hung partly open, which gave her plenty of visibility to know Danque wasn’t in the room.

  “What the hell?”

  Rushing inside, she busted into the bathroom and let out a defeated groan. The window sat fully open, a warm breeze fluttering the stained lace drapes hanging limply on either side. Chelle allowed her dragon to come forth, just enough to use its hypersensitive vision to scan the pitch-black alley behind the Halfway Inn. Nothing. Danque was gone. Again.

  “Shit,” she snapped, heart pounding in her head, chest and fingertips.

  Swiveling on her heel, she bolted for the door, desperate to catch Danque’s scent and capture him before he could slither into the blackness for good. But as she was about to cross the threshold, she ran face-first into a very large, very warm, very delicious-smelling wall of flesh. The two bodies bounced off each other, landing both of them on their asses.

  Her vision swam for a second before clearing enough to realize Allon was the other person. Then white-hot rage bubbled up from the depths and out her mouth.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she shouted at him as they both regained their feet. “You blew my trap with your stupid impression of a pissed off bull in a china shop!”

  Allon brushed off his jeans, which she couldn’t help noticing clung to the beefy muscles of this thighs like they were painted on, and glared at her. “How was I supposed to know you were here? Besides, you intentionally sabotaged me earlier, so I guess now we’re even.”

  “If you had even the slightest clue what you were talking about, you might rise to the level of an idiot!”

  “Me?” Allon balked, taking a threatening step closer to her, but she refused to yield. “Why the hell did you wait so long if you knew which room he was in?”

  “My methods are none of your damn business!”

  Blazing heat built up between them as the stalked closer and closer, getting angrier and angrier, just like in the forest clearing that morning. The animal attraction that buzzed between their bodies mixed with their natural animosity toward each other to create a totally insane and completely irresistible lust that couldn’t be contained. Or ignored.

  One second they were standing in the middle of the nasty motel room screaming at each other, and the next they were greedily clutching at one another and toppling onto the even nastier bed. But Chelle barely noticed, and she most definitely didn’t care. When Allon plowed his fingers into her hair and grabbed tight fistfuls, Chelle raked her nails down his arms, drawing blood. They clawed and kissed and growled and hissed at each other as their hands groped and mouths devoured. Allon’s fingers fumbled with the zipper of her jumpsuit, and she was reaching up to help him when an amused voice jerked them back to reality.

  “If y’all are lookin’ for Danque, you’re lookin’ in the wrong places.”

  Chapter Four

  Allon’s head snapped toward the voice in the doorway so fast his neck cracked. Not many people would dare get between two dragons getting down and dirty, much less with that kind of attitude. Even fewer would try to cock block Allon. And the ropey old dude leaning against the doorframe watching them with a wry smile sure as hell didn’t look like any of the handful of people who could take on Allon and walk away unsinged.

  His sense of smell confirmed the guy was a dragon and his eyesight told him the man had to be older than Charlie. Judging by his sun-leathered skin, he might have been older than the hills themselves. But what really confused Allon was the guy’s sense of style.

  Personally, Allon preferred tank tops and tight jeans to show off the physique he worked hard to maintain, but the old dragon in the doorway was dressed like a bona fide cowboy—a brown checkered button-down with pearly snap buttons and pointy yokes on the front, a w
ell-used pair of Wranglers that hung loose on his skinny hips, and scuffed shit-kicker boots with heels worn down to funny angles. And of course an absolutely massive bronze belt buckle.

  “Wanna say that again, granddad?” Allon stood slowly, hands curling into fists as he took a step toward the gnarled little asshole who smirked up at him as if he were the calmest, most confident soul in the state.

  “Settle down, young fella. I was just checkin’ out the competition.” His sharp eyes flitted between Allon and Chelle as he spoke, sizing them both up briefly. Then he gave a soft chuckle that pissed off Allon even more, if that were possible. “From the looks of things, I guess I got nothin’ to worry about after all.”

  With that, he turned and sauntered away like a cowboy in a cheesy old Western movie, whistling a familiar tune as his boots thumped in a fading rhythm. Allon stared after him for a few moments before glancing back to Chelle with a bewildered look.

  “What the hell?” Chelle seemed just as baffled as Allon felt.

  “Did he say…competition?”

  She shrugged, utterly bewildered. But something niggled at the back of Allon’s mind as he watched the man disappear into the night. He said nothing because if he was wrong, Chelle would lord it over him for eternity. As it was, if she caught Danque before he did, she’d probably send him a gift basket stuffed with the crappiest Westerns ever made and a bottle of cheap rotgut. The joke would be on her because Allon had a lead-lined stomach.

  The rustle of bedding caught his ear and he turned to find Chelle already on her feet, zipping her jumpsuit back up and smoothing her delightfully mussed hair. He stared at her in confusion for a few moments, mind racing to figure out what the hell she was doing, but then he remembered.