Rockwell Agency: Boxset

by Dee Bridgnorth

  But she was not in the right shoes for that.

  She was wearing simple flats with her leggings, so at the very least, she wasn’t running in heels. But the shoes didn’t want to stay on her feet, and soon every time she ran another step, one or both of the flats were slipping off the back of her heel. And her sweater was bulky. And her leggings were clinging to her legs, making it hard for her to keep up speed. And Lydia would be lying if she said that she was incredibly athletic. She wasn’t out of shape, by any means. She had played tennis most of her life, and she knew how to move with speed and agility.

  Running through the streets of Baton Rouge, trying to dodge obstacles and keep her target in sight, was very different from batting balls about on a court, though. Lydia was soon out of breath and no closer to catching up to Jack. He wasn’t slowing at all, and he was running ahead of her, seeming to head straight out of the busy area of town and towards the green space that surrounded Baton Rouge.

  She almost wondered if he wasn’t planning to just run straight into the bayou—and if he did, would she follow?

  Absolutely. She was on a mission now, and she needed to know what had happened to her friend. She wasn’t turning back from that.

  Lydia was so focused on staying within sight of Jack that she didn’t notice the footsteps pounding behind her. She also didn’t notice the bus that was coming quickly down the street as Jack took a surprise turn, forcing Lydia to think fast and alter her own route, putting her directly in front of the bus.

  The bus driver laid on her horn, the sound blasting in Lydia’s ears as she froze, staring at the bus hurtling towards her. Brakes squealed, as the driver tried to come to a stop, and Lydia started to scream. But the wind was knocked out of her as an arm swooped around her waist and grabbed her up, speeding her towards safety on the opposite sidewalk.

  Lydia stumbled as her feet hit the ground, and the person behind her righted her, pulling her up as she breathed hard, still in the midst of a panic. All around them, people applauded. The bus went careening through the intersection, still laying on its horn in protest of Lydia’s reckless actions.

  She wanted to turn and thank Quentin—it had to have been Quentin. But Lydia couldn’t catch her breath after the combination of running at top speed for three quarters of a mile and then facing down what had felt, at the time, like imminent death. She bent over, her hands resting on her knees, as she tried to calm down.

  All around her, there were voices.

  “Hey you,” one man said, bending over to look at her. “Are you okay?”

  “She shouldn’t be okay! She was running out there like a crazy person. She could have been killed—and would’ve been, if not for him. Good job, man. Good job.”

  “She hasn’t even said thank you.”

  “Well, yeah, she’s in shock. Give her a minute. Hey, lady, are you okay? Why were you running like that?”

  And then Quentin’s hand was on her back again. She knew it was him, just from the touch. They might not get on well together, but she knew his touch, and it comforted her.

  “Okay, everyone,” Quentin said. “Let’s give her some space. Nothing to see here. My friend was just chasing after someone she thought she knew—that’s all. She’s just fine.”

  “Irresponsible,” one person muttered, walking away.

  Lydia sagged against Quentin’s side, as he wrapped his arm around her and supported her against him. “Take a breath,” he murmured to her. “You were running like a bat out of hell.”

  She dropped her head against his shoulder. “Thank you. Really. Thank you.”

  “No need,” he said, supporting most of her weight as he began to walk her away from the spot where she had almost been killed. “Jack is gone, by the way. I saw the direction he headed, but he’s out of sight.”

  Lydia shook her head. “I don’t understand. I really don’t. Why is he doing this? This is not normal. Is this normal?”

  “No,” Quentin said. “But then he’s your friend, so I wouldn’t expect him to be normal.”

  For no particular reason, Lydia began to laugh a little and cry a little all at the same time. She sniffled, frustrated with herself for always appearing so totally inept in front of Quentin. It was little wonder that he didn’t want to work with her any longer. Little wonder that he had no trust in her. He probably had no respect for her, either.

  He guided her over to a small back street, where they had some privacy, then released her, taking a few steps back and watching her as she tried to get a hold of herself. She watched him as she wiped her eyes, grateful that he had saved her life and wishing that she knew how to reach him. Now that she knew for sure that Jack was alive and fine and just didn’t want to see her, she didn’t know what to think or where to turn.

  And she realized that all of the plans that she’d made with Jack didn’t actually matter anymore. He had turned his back on her for some reason, and Quentin—Quentin was still here. He’d still followed her even after he’d said he was done with her. He’d followed her to make sure that she was okay.

  “I’m ready,” Lydia said, when she’d dried her eyes.

  “Ready for what?”

  “I’m ready to give you an honest answer,” she said, her palms sweating at the thought. But she was resolute. “I’ll tell you what’s really been going on here.”

  Quentin watched her warily. “Why? Ten minutes ago, you had no interest in telling me anything.”

  “I’ve changed my mind.”

  Lydia looked behind them, seeing that the streets petered out into green space, and that the bayou was just beyond that point. It seemed, somehow, like the perfect place to have the talk they were about to have. She looked back at Quentin and nodded her head towards the trees. “Will you come with me?”

  He flicked his eyes over to the tree line, still clearly suspicious. But he nodded, and when she began to walk, he fell in step beside her. They walked in silence, past the place where the asphalt ended, across the stretch of grass, and into the trees that grew up out of marshy waters. They had to be careful, picking their way through the marsh. Animals made their home in the bayou. She knew that without even being a Louisiana native. She had read all about the alligators and the snakes and even the wild boars that sometimes roamed. And the insects. She had never been in a bayou before, and she found herself distracted by the combination of beauty and danger around her.

  Lydia’s foot slipped off the bank and into the marsh, making her stumble. Quentin grabbed her arm, pulling her back.

  “Be careful,” he said. “You never know what might be in the water here.”

  She nodded, and he kept hold of her arm as he led her over the trickier parts of the terrain to an area that was reasonably dry and flat.

  “Are we far enough out for you here?” Quentin asked, mildly making fun of her for her dramatic location choice. “I don’t think we’ll be overheard by anyone but the snakes.”

  Lydia shivered slightly at the thought of a snake sneaking up on them, but she nodded in response to his question. “Yes … I think we’re secluded enough here.”

  It was time for her to come clean, and she felt her heart pounding again in her chest, almost as if she was once again running at breakneck speed through the streets of Baton Rouge. She didn’t know how to broach this subject carefully or gracefully, but then she was learning about herself that she usually didn’t do many things carefully or gracefully.

  So, she didn’t even try. She just came right out with it, meeting Quentin’s curious gaze with her own.

  “Secluded enough for you to shift into a dragon,” she said, “if you wanted to.”

  Chapter 17

  Quentin

  Perhaps he should have expected those words to come out of her mouth, but he didn’t. He expected some confession of her own culpability in all of this—some confession that she had done something that she had tried to cover up by saying that her sister was missing. Some confession that she was responsible for the strange force in
the apartment that she knew about. Some confession that she knew why Jack was suddenly running from them at all costs.

  He had not expected her to reveal to him his own deepest secret, and when she did, he didn’t know what to say.

  Luckily, Lydia didn’t give him much time to speak.

  “I’m sorry,” she blurted, before the moment of silence could fully hang between them. “I know that it’s a secret. I would never tell anyone. The truth is that Jack and I are researchers. Supernatural researchers. He does it as a hobby with me, but for me it’s more—well … It’s more than that. I love everything supernatural. I know that sounds stupid and fangirlish, and I don’t mean for it to be. But, you see, I saw a video online, and it was of a building burning. It was from far away. Someone was recording. And in the sky—I couldn’t believe it. I saw a dragon wing. It was a blue dragon wing. So, a healer dragon. I couldn’t believe it—I was so excited. So, I showed Jack, and he saw it, too, and we just knew—this was it. This was the moment that all of our research and all of our obsession was going to pay off. We had a lead that would confirm—really confirm—dragon shifters. You know dragon shifters are like the pinnacle of the supernatural world. Of course, you know that.”

  He didn’t know that everyone would agree with that assessment, but she didn’t give him time to actually answer, and he wasn’t ready to anyway.

  “When we saw the video, I knew that I had to find out where it was from, and I traced it here to Louisiana. So, I started researching Louisiana specifically in connection to dragon shifters, and I came up with the Rockwell Clan. With you, and your friends, of course. I mean, I didn’t target you specifically. Just the agency. And then I met you on that first day that I came down. You see, I quit my job, and I left everything behind, and I put all my money into that apartment to make up a case that you would help me with. I was going to observe your work. That’s all. I wanted to write a book. About dragon shifters. Real-life dragon shifters. I wouldn’t have put your name in it—I swear. I would have changed the place and all of the details. Nobody would have ever known I was talking about you. But I just—I wanted so much to meet you all and work with you and see it in person. I think that everything about you and the supernatural world is so fascinating, Quentin. You just—you have no idea. And I blew it. I know I blew it. I couldn’t have blown it worse. I should have handled it so differently, but here we are, and I can’t change it, and I just—well, now I want to work with you even more than ever because you’re a nice person.”

  It was a lot of information to take in, and she spewed it out so rapidly that he could barely keep up with her, even if he did have quick instincts. He must have felt ten different things during her speech, ranging from fury, to amusement, to curiosity, to relief, to frustration. He cycled through each of them, returning to several at different times, and when she was finally done, he just felt a bit speechless.

  He stared at her, and she clasped her hands together, resting them beneath her chin as she looked at him with those wide eyes, just above that pretty, upturned nose.

  “Say something,” she said.

  Quentin shook his head. “I don’t know what to say to any of that, Lydia. You just told me that you lied to me in order to secretly observe me and my friends and write a book about something that we’ve worked for generations to keep secret enough to let us carry out our destinies without interference. You just told me my own secret, and you’re not even afraid of it. Most people would find the idea of dragons terrifying. You seem to find it …fascinating. And I don’t know what to do with that. I don’t know what to do with any of it.”

  “I know that I must seem crazy.”

  “You do.”

  “I know,” she said, covering her face with her hands. “Oh, God. I’ve screwed all of this up so badly. I should have done it all differently. You just have no idea how badly I wanted to meet you. All of you.”

  Was she infuriating or endearing? He had a sneaking suspicion she was both at the same time, basically every day. She was so naïve, and so impulsive, and so …innocent.

  She was so innocent.

  Nothing that she had done had been to harm to anyone. It had all been because she had a love for something, and she wanted to know more about it. Yes, she had been a bit naïve to think that her approach was a good one, or that she would be able to write a book that wouldn’t expose them all. He couldn’t let her write a book.

  But she was earnest, and she was eager, and she was pure—despite the lies she had told, she was pure. So few people had such an unadulterated interest in something anymore. People generally preferred to ignore the possibility that the supernatural world existed, preferring to get swept up in the modern features of their lives.

  Lydia had given up everything to pursue her passion.

  “You hate me,” she said, when he continued to not say anything, while he looked at her, trying to wrap his head around her. “God—you do. You hate me.”

  “No,” Quentin said, shaking his head. “But I need to know something, and you have to keep giving me honest answers.”

  “I’m an open book,” Lydia said, holding her palms up to him in a gesture of her sincerity. “Anything you want to know. I used to steal pencils when I was in third grade. Like a lot of pencils—mechanical pencils, specifically. My parents wouldn’t buy them for me.”

  Quentin cocked his head, not sure what to make of that either. But he was struggling not to smile, despite the fact that he was trying to remain serious in the face of a woman who apparently knew everything about him. “Are you the one who put the shimmering curtain in the apartment kitchen?”

  Lydia blinked at him. “Do what now? Sorry—I don’t understand the question.”

  “In the apartment kitchen, there’s a shimmering, transparent curtain,” he said, trading revelation for revelation. “The moment I walked into the apartment the second time, today, I felt the power coming from that curtain. I don’t know what it is—I’ve never seen anything like it. I’m positive that it’s connected to whatever is going on with Jack, but I don’t know what it is.”

  Lydia shook her head slowly. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I want to know everything about what you’re talking about.”

  “Then it wasn’t you?”

  “Definitely not.”

  Quentin nodded, amazed at the fact that he really did believe her. He thought she had come clean entirely now, and while her explanation was off-the-wall, it was plausible. She knew he was a dragon shifter. That was proof enough, wasn’t it?

  He dragged a hand over his hair and looked around the bayou. They were quite isolated, and the trees provided good cover around them. Quentin looked back at Lydia, pressing his lips together as he considered everything.

  The idea that he had broken all of the rules, even though he took rules very seriously, dumbfounded him. But he felt oddly close to Lydia in this particular moment. He had, from the minute he met her, but all of the secrets had interfered, getting in between them. He did like her, though. He had wanted to like her from the beginning. It had weighed heavily on him to think poorly of her. And now that he knew the truth, he was almost relieved.

  Quentin reached for her hand, and she tentatively placed her fingers in his. Closing his hand around hers, Quentin tugged her a little further into the bayou, making sure that they were well-surrounded, and that there was no one else around. Then he released her and said, “Close your eyes.”

  She did, but she peeked one eye at him warily.

  “Close your eyes,” he said, pointing his finger at her. “Come on. Do it.”

  She closed her second eye with a bit of a huff, and Quentin quickly stripped out of his clothes, kicking his shoes off and piling it all at the base of a tree. Then, considering one more time, he took the leap—literally and metaphorically.

  Quentin jumped into the air, shifting into his maroon-scaled dragon form. The sound of his wings rushing through the air as they unfurled caused Lydia to open her eyes, an
d she gasped, looking up at him in wonder. Her hands went to cover her mouth, and she stared in amazement, as he slowly winged his way around the small, open space they were in. His tail swept down, slicing through the air, and his neck arched, his head leaning way back, and then tossing in the air to show off his power.

  “Oh my God,” Lydia whispered, spinning around in a circle so that her eyes could follow him the whole way. “Oh my God. Oh my God! Oh my God!”

  Even in his dragon form, Quentin had to smile, showing off his sharp teeth as he did. He scooped down and let her run her hands over his wings, and then he scooped her up, tossing her onto his back. He couldn’t fly high, because it was the middle of the day, and there was no cover. But he flew her around the trees, dipping low and then angling higher without breaking out over the tops of the trees.

  The entire time, Lydia was crawling around on his back, eager to see everything that he was showing her and exclaiming to herself constantly. “This is amazing! Wow. Just—wow. Oh my God. Holy cow. What is even happening?”

  When he landed on the ground again and bent low to let her off his wide, scaled back, she slid down with a thud and hurried around to the front of him, grabbing his face in her hands. It startled him, and he found himself looking down into her eyes with his yellow ones. She stared at him for a long moment, stroking her hand along his long nose.