Billionaire Dragon

by Jada Cox

  Thank you, God! I thought. He was feeling the awkwardness too. How could he not?

  He flipped through a few channels, all sounding like they were right in the middle of advertisements until he found one that was playing Heart. He left it on as they squealed, “Ooooo, Barracuda!”

  I wasn’t the biggest Heart fan, but I would listen to a chorus of pigs singing Christmas carols at this point if it meant having something to listen to.

  “That was ‘Barracuda,’ by Heart,” the DJ said. “Now, one of the things we see talked about everywhere is the paranormal.”

  “Everywhere?” said a woman’s voice, clearly the cohost.

  “Oh, yeah. Think about it: it’s in movies, literature, and even the idea of a zombie apocalypse is paranormal—and zombies are the craze that just won’t die and stay down.”

  “No way,” the woman said. “Zombies aren’t paranormal. They’re horror.”

  “So are vampires, ghosts, and werewolves, and yet, they’re being romanticized.”

  “That’s not new, though,” the woman said. “Vampires have always been somewhat of an erotic concept. They’re this vaguely dangerous thing that women are meant to stay away from lest they succumb to the vampire’s wants. They suck your blood from your tender areas—your neck, your wrist, your inner thigh—it’s all sexual and has gone on since Dracula.”

  “Well, you have a point there. And that might very well be why there are groups of people throughout the United States who truly believe they are vampires.”

  “Shut up, really?”

  “Yep. In fact, there is a group in Louisiana who have a ritual through which they drink blood and ‘transform’ people into vampires like they are.”

  “What are people thinking?” the woman asked. “Who in their right mind believes that sort of stuff?”

  “You never know. There are people from all walks of life. I believe in them,” the guy said.

  The woman laughed. “Now you’re joking.”

  “I’m not joking,” he said. “I do believe there are creatures and beings out there that are beyond what we know to be real in this reality. I don’t believe these groups around the country are actually vampires, but I believe there is the possibility that they, or other things, may exist.”

  “Come on, you’re pulling my leg,” she said.

  I laughed at the absurdity. “Can you believe this guy?” I asked Malcolm. I had become so engrossed in their conversation that I had completely forgotten about the tension in the car.

  “What?”

  “He actually believes this stuff is real,” I said, turning down the radio so I wasn’t shouting over it. “I mean, he’s got to be just bullshitting for the radio. No one in their right mind thinks that vampires and werewolves are real.”

  “I do,” Malcolm said quietly.

  I laughed. “Sure, sure. Me too.”

  “I’m serious. I believe those things are real. You don’t?”

  “Well no, of course not,” I said. “I’m not ten.”

  His face was stony serious as he stared straight ahead at the road.

  Things were tense before, but now it was a different kind of tense. I had struck a nerve here. He actually was serious. How could someone as smart and sensible as Malcolm believe in things that were clearly absurd? Yet, somehow, it looked like I had offended him more now than I did when I threw him out of the house the night before.

  It hurt me, somewhere, knowing that I had upset him. I hadn’t meant to cause offense, and I didn’t like that he had gone so rigid, so quiet, and that I had been the source of it.

  “I don’t know,” I said, trying to lighten the mood. “I suppose if I were going to maybe believe in anything, it might be ghosts. I think everyone has some unexplained event that’s happened somewhere creepy. Ghosts seem a little plausible.” I looked over to see if my pseudo-confession had any effect on him. Nope. “So,” I started quietly, trying to level with him, to give him room to explain himself, “what kind of paranormal stuff do you believe it?”

  He took a while before he answered. “Have you ever seen a werewolf?”

  I struggled not to laugh at his response, sensing that this was certainly not the time to make jokes. “No, which is a pretty big reason why I don’t believe in them.”

  “But what if you did?”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “What if you did see something like a werewolf. What would you do? Would it scare you?”

  “Yeah, it probably would scare the crap out of me.” I thought about what it would be like to be hanging out with someone who uncontrollably transformed into some crazed, hungry beast.

  “What if you were really close to someone, and you found out that they were a werewolf?” Malcolm asked.

  I tried to think about my answer before responding. I didn’t want him to think that I was just reacting, but rather that I was taking the topic at hand seriously. He clearly was. “Well, I think it would be like if I found out that someone I was close to was a drug lord or a murderer. I would see that person as dangerous and wouldn’t want to be around them.”

  “Wow, really?” he asked flatly, yet in a vexed tone.

  “Well, yeah. There’s no control over werewolves, is there? Their animal side takes over, and they just attack people and things. Imagine forgetting it was a full moon and you’re out at a bar with your friend and they transform and just start ripping people apart? No way, I don’t need that kind of risk in my life. People are crazy enough as it is.”

  “I just would have thought the personality and the relationship that you had cultivated with them would mean something to you,” he said quietly. “What’s the point of building relationships if you don’t stand by the person in their time of need?”

  “Time of need?” I asked. “You think that when they’re wild and crazed and dangerous is their time of need?”

  “You don’t? Your solution to the problems in the world is to just lock them up? Punish them? Is there no compassion?”

  “Malcolm,” I said quietly and somewhat sternly. “This is a hypothetical situation. There are no werewolves.”

  “Sure,” he said. “No magic in the world at all.”

  That night I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t get Malcolm out of my head. I couldn’t understand the conversation we’d had and why he’d been so passionate. He never raised his voice, but I’d seen his constraint in every word he spoke. There was almost a sadness about him as he talked.

  Had I really offended him? Was my disbelief in goblins and ghosts so bad?

  Then again, his final words on the subject, toned with a critical judgement of me, “No magic in the world at all,” must have been somewhat telling. Maybe he just believed in magic, not necessarily the paranormal. Maybe he believed in things like the Law of Attraction and all those things that many people fell into the trap of believing. Or maybe he was just one of those people who saw magic in everyday life, such as flowers blossoming in the spring, or truly believed that birth was a miracle, or were a little superstitious.

  I wracked my brain for what he was actually like, what it was that I said that had seemed to strike him so deeply.

  It wasn’t just that I couldn’t wrap my head around it. I genuinely felt bad that I had upset him so much. I had hurt my own feelings by striking a nerve in him, and I wanted to apologize for whatever I had said that was out of line, but I just couldn’t understand why telling him that the paranormal was malarkey was a bad thing. People needed to hear stark realities sometimes. Sure, it was fun to make believe those things were real and pretend that there were gnomes and fairies in the world, but you weren’t supposed to adopt those beliefs as personal facts, were you? Was I a bad person because I thought it was right to point that out?

  I shook my head into my pillow at that last thought. There I was, picking up Malcolm’s old-school lingo like “malarkey.” He was certainly rubbing off on me, to say the least.

  I sighed. He was rubbing off me, and I was pushing him aw
ay. I liked that he was rubbing off on me. And I liked when he was around.

  Damnit, I thought. I haven’t just been lusting after him, have I?

  For the first time, I realized that I hadn’t just been wanting to scratch an itch with him, but that I really liked him. Not in a schoolgirl-crush sort of way that usually dissolved as soon as any serious dating started, but in a deeper way. I felt a deep want of him, like I almost needed to be with him.

  The voice in my head began its usual diatribe of reminding me that I couldn’t get involved with someone I worked with, should never get involved with a biker—but it felt weak, and like a pithy argument that was only there because of my desperate and dire need to prove to my brothers and the rest of the world that I was capable of looking after myself, that I could make my own sound decisions that were safe, and that I didn’t need someone to protect me. I wondered if any of that was true, that I needed to prove anything to anyone. What was it costing me at this moment? What was I doing to myself?

  Why was I holding myself back from Malcolm?

  Chapter 11 - Malcolm

  I came home from the stakeout with Violet in a foul mood. At least, that was what I told myself. That I was angry. I began to lighten up a little when I got home and was greeted by the guys. With a couple of beers and an update on some of the designer’s plans, I was able to forget about her, even if just a little. That was, until I went to bed and was left in solitude with my thoughts.

  I couldn't stop thinking about our conversation earlier. It circulated and revolved around and around in my mind, no beginning, no end, just endlessly playing. It was like being punched in the gut without understanding why.

  I couldn't understand why she had such limiting beliefs. Since I got to know her, I'd been able to experience the true beauty of who she was. I had been able to get to know her personality, get to know her laugh, get to know what made her tick. And now, more than ever, that inkling that I had had weeks ago—I knew it to be true. She was my mate. That was the worst part of it.

  As soon as our lips touched, I knew. When I felt her bare skin against mine, I knew. When I entered her and felt our bodies align and entangle, I knew. When I held her in my arms, I could think of no other way I wanted to wake up in the morning than with her asleep next to me, and I knew.

  The next morning, I sat at work, not really sure what to do with myself. I was in the security lounge on the second floor. A few other guys were hanging out, talking amongst each other. I hadn’t really spent too much time getting to know anyone other than the head of security, Bruno.

  He was a monster of a guy, muscle all in his neck and upper body with tiny little hips and legs. He was almost like a cartoon of a badly spray-tanned member of the Jersey Shore.

  Bruno emerged from the back office, his eyes scanning the lounge. I watched him and thought that one day, I would take his job. He wasn’t a bad guy; he was just crap at security. They all were as far as I could tell. But Bruno, in particular, had no idea what he was doing when it came to security training. It was like he watched a bunch of bad cop movies and Rocky all in one night and decided that he was a security trainer.

  Bruno’s eyes landed on me, and he marched over.

  “Malcolm,” he said, dropping the file on the table in front of me. “This one’s for you.”

  “What is it?” I began thumbing through the file, noting that all the documents inside were xeroxed copies of letters and transcribed phone calls. The thing all of the pieces of paper had in common was the repetition of the name Hill.

  Detective Hill.

  Inspector Hill.

  Miss Hill.

  Violet Hill.

  My pulse was increasing as I scanned a few of them, realizing exactly what they were.

  “For the last few days,” Bruno explained, “we’ve been getting communications with Hill’s case’s suspect.”

  “Directly?” I asked.

  “The individual claims that they are on behalf of Rowe, but the voices on the phone are always masked, and the original letters are clean as a whistle. These phone calls and letters, as you can see, have all included at least one threat on Hill’s life.”

  I shook my head as my eyes ran over the vile ways Rowe was threatening to dispose of Violet.

  “She didn’t tell you?” Bruno asked. “You guys have been spending a lot of time together. I thought she would have.”

  “You and me, both,” I said. The transcriptions were vile, evil in fact. How had she not told me any of this?

  “I’m sure you can understand that she’s been upgraded to a level-red employee,” Bruno went on. “That means that she is not to be left alone. Period. We’ll arrange for backup security to rotate around her so that you have relief from your duties. This can be as often as you like, but we don’t encourage you to strain yourself. Try to limit yourself to twelve-hour stints at the most, with twelve hours off.”

  “I don’t need backup,” I said. “I can look after her on my own.”

  “That’s not how we do things here,” Bruno said. “There are systems in place to keep our staff safe and to ensure that we are all in the best position possible to deliver optimum performance of our duties.”

  Had this guy memorized the manual or something? These were far more difficult sentences than a guy like Bruno was used to using, and I didn’t believe for one second that these were answers he was generating on his own.

  “I assure you, it’s fine,” I said.

  “With a code-red employee, we can’t slack off, Malcolm,” Bruno said. “She must be under supervision 24 hours a day.”

  “Oh, she’ll love that,” I muttered.

  “This is a very serious matter,” he went on. “We don’t mess around when it comes to death threats, especially when it’s potentially coming from someone like her current case. That guy is dangerous, and we will make sure that she is protected and has the resources she needs to feel and attain safety. Are we clear on that?”

  “Yes,” I replied, looking up at Bruno as if he had just asked me why there wasn’t any chocolate on Mars. “She has my protection. You don’t need to find relief for me. I will be there, I assure you.”

  “You say that, but it is policy for us to have relief for security who are on red alert.”

  “You do know that we live next door to each other, right? Honestly, I will be right there, all the time.”

  “I did not know that,” Bruno said. “So you really meant you’re around.”

  I tried not to roll my eyes. He was my boss, and I wanted to keep my job if it enabled me to be near Violet. Still, the fact that he didn’t even know enough about his employees to know that they lived near each other, especially when one was meant to have 24-hour supervision, meant that he was just sloppy.

  “I wasn’t just wasting my breath.”

  I read the file that Bruno gave me, then re-read it. I read it a third time before I took off, clutching the thing in my hand and pounding down the concrete stairs to the first floor. I was seething. I couldn’t believe that Violet had kept this from me. I stormed into her office. She just about jumped out of her chair as I entered the room, marched straight to her desk, and towered over her.

  “You’ve been having death threats?” I demanded.

  She shook her head and looked at me surprised. “Yeah,” she replied without the slightest ounce of concern in her voice. “What about it?”

  “What do you mean, ‘what about it?’” I said, trying to keep my voice down. “This is a big deal. This isn’t a bad Yelp review. This is your actual life being threatened by a dangerous and powerful man.” I couldn’t believe that she was being so nonchalant about this.

  “You’re over-reacting, Malcolm,” Violet said, leaning back in her chair and putting her hands behind her head, overly relaxed for the outrage I was feeling. “It’s honestly not a big deal. This is part and parcel of the job. Have you never done this before or something?”

  “Yes, of course I’ve run security before. That’s why I got
this job. But no one takes it as calmly as you are right now. NO one refrains from telling their security guard that they’re getting death threats. How is it that my security team knows before I do? You are my assignment!”

  “I didn’t want to worry you,” she said, bringing her hands down and folding them on her desk. “You’ve just seemed really tense, and I didn’t want to worry you is all. Besides, I can totally deal with this myself. We used to get this crap all the time when I was working on the force.”

  “Do not pull your police training bullshit on me,” I said, pacing back and forth in her office in front of her desk. “Just because you’ve been through training and you know karate, or whatever ten-year-old fantasy you have, doesn’t mean you know how to look after yourself. If you knew how to look after yourself, this company wouldn’t have hired me.”

  Violet stood up from her chair, leaning over her desk on her knuckles. “You did not just say that.”

  “You need to hear it.”

  “You have no idea what the hell you’re talking about, do you?” she said, her voice quiet and even, though ominous like approaching thunder. “I have been looking after myself since I can remember, alright? I know how to handle myself. I have been a cop in this city. I have been on the frontlines, running after crooks, and working my way up to detective before most officers even knew they wanted to join the police force to begin with. Don’t feed me some bullshit about how I can’t defend myself. I do not need you. Just because the agency thinks I need you, does not mean that I actually need you. You can go right on out of that office door.”

  “No,” I said, pointing a finger at her, feeling my body shaking with anger. “No, Violet. That is not how this is going to play. I have been assigned to you. Therefore, I will protect you. There is nothing that you can do about that. I am going to be on you like white on rice.”

  “You know what, Malcolm?” Violet said, her green eyes boring into mine. “Go to hell.”

  I stopped pacing and looked at her, unable to discern if I had actually heard what she said properly. I stared at her in disbelief.