Blood Moon Dragon (Dragon Investigators Book 2)

by Shelley Munro

  “Emma’s friend is paying in oysters.”

  Hone reached for his T-shirt. “I haven’t had a feed of shellfish for ages. Where are we going?”

  “Clevedon. We can hit the beach once we’re finished. If the tide is right, we can collect cockles at Kawakawa bay.”

  “Throw in a beer at the pub and you’re on.”

  Jack eyed him. “You look disgustingly satisfied. Thought you’d complain more or say you have a hot date.”

  “Nope. At present, my taniwha is a lazy slug. You have Emma to satiate your dragon’s appetite for sex. I had the Geraldine twins. Many times,” he added with a wink.

  “Hell. Don’t tell Emma.”

  Hone shrugged. “So shoot me. My taniwha and I love sex. Full moon last night. I needed the sex to maintain control. Aunt June doesn’t approve of dragons flying through the sky letting off flares of fire. Says it upsets the authorities. Dad reiterates, so it’s either rebellion or sex since Manu’s invention isn’t working yet.”

  “Yeah, sucks being a taniwha sometimes. At least I can swim if necessary, and Emma knows what to do if that ever happens.”

  “You’re a lucky man.” Nothing less than the truth, but Hone didn’t add the rest of his thoughts. He loved sex and wouldn’t apologize for it, but at the back of his mind, he’d started to yearn for more. A partner with whom he could be himself. That hadn’t, however, stopped him trotting out his rules to every woman he dated.

  One—technically he didn’t date and what he had was fun, consensual encounters.

  Two—leave them as friends. No drama and angst that way.

  And three—make rules clear at the start.

  Jack turned toward his garden shed. “I’ll load the mower.”

  His friend pulled Hone’s mind from women and rules. “If the grass is long, a slasher might work better. A chainsaw might come in handy. Stop at home on the way. Dad won’t mind if we borrow his tools.”

  Jack’s phone rang. Emma again. Hone heard her sultry voice as she spoke to Jack. Something to pry up old carpet and mouse traps.

  Soon, they were on their way to Clevedon.

  As always, leaving the city excited his taniwha, but after the indulgences of sex in many positions, it wasn’t difficult to keep his human form. Instead, he opened the passenger side window and stuck out his head, inhaling the fresher country air.

  Jack shot him the look, his dark brows scrunched in disapproval. “Quit acting like a dog.”

  Hone let the insult roll right off him, content with his world. “Does Emma’s friend realize how many oysters we’ll eat?”

  “Behave,” Jack warned. “Cassie and Emma have been friends since they were in primary school.”

  “She know about taniwhas?” He held up a hand and spoke before Jack could reply. “Scratch that. Emma wouldn’t blab.” Hone stuck his head farther out the window and dragged in myriad country scents—animals, grass, trees, a few people—ignoring Jack’s grumbles to delight in the crisp air.

  Jack drove fast but with expert control and the journey didn’t take long.

  Hone straightened, his eyes narrowing at the idea of a woman—any woman—living in such isolation. “This place is in the middle of nowhere.”

  “This place is a dump.” Jack stated the obvious as he parked beside a red SUV.

  Hone studied the wooden bungalow. The building had a sturdy frame. Sure, it was missing a few boards and needed repainting. “It will be better once the grass is cut. You go and tell Emma we’re here and I’ll start unloading. Glad we brought the chainsaw. Those trees will need trimming. Take away the gloom.”

  “Might take more. Depends what the inside is like.” Jack climbed from the vehicle, his ground-eating steps taking him to the door.

  Hone, used to Jack and his abruptness, didn’t take offense. He set to work unloading the mower and tools. The thump of Jack’s knock on the door, his call and the feminine response brought warmth to Hone’s heart, a sense of rightness. At one time, he’d considered hooking up with Emma, but anyone but an idiot could see she wanted Jack. Hell, Jack had been an idiot. Oblivious until a case on Waiheke Island in the Hauraki Gulf had forced them together. Add in a full moon, and Jack hadn’t stood a chance.

  Not that his friend seemed unhappy. Emma was good for Jack, jerking him from his taciturn behavior. These days, he smiled more readily, behaved more human.

  Hone adjusted the mower to a high setting, ripped off his T-shirt and began his attack on the long grass. No need for a catcher. Hopefully, the mower wouldn’t have a spastic attack and refuse to work.

  He started on the right-hand side and discovered an overgrown concrete path on his third round of the lawn. The sun beat down overhead, and he paused to wipe the sweat from his brow with his forearm. Jack trotted outside with Emma and another woman. Emma waved and he returned the greeting. He recommenced his mowing pattern.

  Jack said something to the women and strode to his work vehicle. He handed Emma a hammer and a crowbar. Hone chortled as Jack offered a comment to his wife. Advice probably. Emma with tools. He couldn’t wait to see what she intended to do with those.

  On his next circuit, Jack gestured at the trees. The friend nodded, and she and Emma retreated. Jack hadn’t mentioned the friend was attractive, although to be honest, he hadn’t asked because an innocent question might make Emma consider matchmaking. Women did that stuff. Not gonna happen.

  But from what he could see, the friend rocked some serious curves. Not as tall as Emma, which meant she would reach his shoulders in height. Long black hair gathered in a messy ponytail. Too far away to see the minute details, such as did she have freckles or white teeth or an agreeable scent. Not that it mattered. A short-term involvement with the friend would make his interaction with Emma difficult and would piss off Jack.

  Yeah, he’d quell his natural inclination to flirt. Keep his boots firmly planted in the friend zone.

  Chapter Two

  Matthew Jamieson scanned the neighboring property through binoculars. Two men. Could be innocent. Could be trouble. Could be a pain in his arse. One man mowed the grass and the other cut back trees and the encroaching undergrowth. He cursed under his breath. This might interrupt the harvest, muck up his retirement plans.

  Damn, he’d known he shouldn’t use the land, but it had been the best solution. Hell, a brilliant answer to his problem. He’d made an offer to purchase via his solicitor and been summarily rejected. The owner vetoed his second increased offer. He hadn’t liked to make a third and arouse curiosity.

  Place was a dump, the land acreage too small for economic farming. None of his investigations turned up details about C Miller-Pope, other than his name. His inability to extract information from the law firm handling the property had irked him, but after almost nine months of inactivity, he’d decided it was safe to make use of the land to increase his drug production area.

  Mistake.

  He’d sensed it in his gut yet forged ahead anyway. Taken a calculated risk.

  “Fuck.” Matt placed the binoculars on the nearby table and rubbed his face, mind racing, playing the angles as he paced. He halted at the desk in the corner, spinning to return to the cluster of chairs arranged to take advantage of the view.

  Yeah, that might work.

  He plucked his cell phone from his pocket and rang Herbert, his top man. In a crisp voice, he issued instructions, then disconnected. He stared through the window of his upstairs lounge, his gaze trailing the man mowing grass.

  With a harsh sigh, he settled in his favorite chair and reached for the bottle of imported beer he’d opened earlier.

  The ability to roll with life’s punches had turned him into a successful businessman. This was nothing but a small bump on the road to his empire. His plan to retire with his son would go ahead. He refused to allow an alternative.

  * * * * *

  “You could have warned me about his Supreme Hunkiness. Just a workmate, you said. His panty-wetting grin…” Cassie broke off, unwillin
g to share the extent of her instant arousal. She cleared her throat. “All that hotness needs a license.”

  “He’s a flirt. Women adore him,” Emma agreed. “But a warning. As much as I love Hone, he’s not interested in settling with one woman. If you want a holiday fling, Hone is your man. If you’re looking for more, and I suspect you are, trying man-shopping in another market.”

  “He’s almost as sexy as Jack.” Cassie’s gaze followed Hone’s progress as he cut the overgrown grass. Tall, over six foot. Messy black hair in need of a cut to tame the curls. Probably brown eyes, given his Maori descent and coloring. Muscles that rippled with each circuit of her lawn, a hairless chest and intriguing tattoos on his back and left biceps. Not an ounce of surplus flesh on him. Easy to see this since he’d whipped off his T-shirt and wore only shorts. She sighed. “It might be worth a dented heart to spend time bumping uglies with him.”

  A choked gasp came from Emma, and Cassie turned to gape at her friend. She’d turned red in the face attempting to hold back her laughter. Well, Cassie couldn’t have that. She gave a thumbs-up sign, waggled her eyebrows and worked to hold back the giggles tickling her throat.

  Emma exploded in an unladylike guffaw. Seconds later, Cassie let her own amusement loose. They chortled and gasped until they held each other to stay upright. Cassie hadn’t laughed this hard for ages, and as she wiped away her mirth and replaced her glasses, she was glad she’d insisted on taking a break, even if it had left Kevin pissed and grumpy.

  She picked up the hammer and the crowbar. “We’d better get started on this carpet.”

  “Oh no you don’t,” Emma said, taking ownership of the tools. “You haven’t outgrown the clumsy gene yet.”

  Funny, when her mother commented on her habitual clumsiness, Cassie bristled enough to resemble a hedgehog. When her friend did the same thing, she handed over the tools without argument.

  “All right. You pull out the tacks, and I’ll roll up the strips.”

  They set to work with much chatter to catch up on the things each of them had done since their last letter.

  “It must be fun traveling to new places,” Emma said, pausing to wipe her forehead.

  After the usual unsettled December weather of muggy temperatures and precipitation, summer had arrived with a roar in the New Year, the dry conditions and lack of forecast rain setting farmers grumbling about drought. Cassie didn’t care about the weather, happy to be back with her friend and in the place she called home.

  “It was exciting—for a while—but one hotel room resembles the next. It’s lonely,” she confessed. “I sing at a venue, pack up, travel to the next city and repeat. The constant travel is exhausting. The promo events are nerve-racking. You’d think they’d get easier. They don’t. My bubbly blonde act has a price, even though it offers me anonymity when I step back for a break.” At first, her wigs and costumes had been a coping mechanism for stage fright. A smokescreen when she became confident. A diva. A star. Now, fatigue weighed on her shoulders. Exhaustion had left her questioning her path and she had no idea of what to do to make things better.

  “So, what have you decided to do?”

  “Kevin wants me to try some crossover songs. More pop than country. Then, once I break out, he wants to do a world tour.”

  Emma shot her a look of concern. “You don’t sound keen.”

  “It’s the touring part. It’s isolating and strenuous, physically and emotionally. Kevin wants to sign me with a bigger label.”

  “Can you do that?” Emma returned to ripping up carpet tacks.

  “My contract is almost at an end with both Kevin and the label. I’ve fulfilled my obligations. I have new contract offers from both but I haven’t signed anything yet.” She shrugged and stood to stretch abused muscles. “That’s something else to worry about.”

  “What do you want to do?”

  Cassie chuckled, amused and impressed. “You’re the first person to ask me that.”

  “Do you know?”

  “I want to write new songs.”

  “Genre?”

  Cassie cocked her head, considering. “I have the urge to write more upbeat stuff. That part gels with Kevin, but I’m sick, sick, sick of syrupy-sweet ballads about cheating and broken hearts. Kevin wants the pop version of syrupy-sweet.”

  “Would you like my opinion?”

  “What?”

  “You’ve already decided what you want to do but you’re scared of Kevin’s reaction.”

  “How do you figure that?”

  Emma stood. “Because you’re my best friend. I understand your thought processes almost as well as my own.”

  Speechless, she gaped at Emma. “Kevin wants me to change up my image.”

  “Wait.” Emma held up her hand. “Don’t tell me. He wants you to lose weight.”

  “Yes.”

  “What do you think about that part?”

  “I’m tired of people commenting on my weight. I’ve always been big, but I do eat healthily, especially when I’m on the road. I exercise and my weight stays the same. I feel good. That’s what I told him. We argued about it.”

  “I see.” Emma’s expression hit enigmatic, but Cassie understood her views on busybody know-it-alls.

  “Kevin keeps leaving me messages. I’m not talking to him.”

  “I see.”

  Cassie scowled. “What do you see?”

  Emma applauded, mischief illuminating her like a diva in a spotlight. “That you’re finally getting a set of balls.”

  A snort escaped Cassie. It was true. She’d started standing up for herself with Kevin and not letting him steamroll right over her or rush her into decisions. A recent occurrence, and one that gave her a measure of pride. She should’ve found her backbone much earlier.

  “What did your stars say?”

  Cassie blushed. “I can’t believe you remembered I read my stars every day.”

  “Nothing wrong with that. It’s a fun quirk.”

  “Last month, the forecast that slipped into my inbox implied I had a big decision to make and I should trust my gut instincts. Later that day, Kevin hit me with his vision of my future. I said I’d consider it instead of agreeing.”

  “Good for you.”

  “Can you help me roll up this piece of carpet? It’s huge.”

  “I’ll help,” a husky masculine voice said from behind her.

  Cassie let out an eep and twisted too fast. Her feet tangled, and she landed hard on her butt. “Ouch.” She flicked down the skirts of her dress and surreptitiously rubbed her abused behind. “I thought padding was meant to help cushion clumsiness.”

  “Sorry.” Hone’s amusement flooded his face—lips, wrinkled nose, and ended in his magnetic chocolate-brown eyes. He shot a quick, searching glance at Emma before crouching beside her.

  Yep, sex-on-a-stick, and she badly wanted to lick every inch of bared skin. When Cassie realized her mouth gaped, she clamped her jaw shut. She’d been right about the eye color. However, his charisma and sex appeal, the lustful jolt to her nerve-endings when she stared at him… Nothing could prepare a woman for that sizzle.

  “Not a thing wrong with your padding.” Hone winked and stroked his finger over her cheek. “Cobweb. You don’t want to walk around with spider silk on your pretty face.”

  “Stop flirting with her.” Emma’s expression held disapproval. “Have you finished the lawn?”

  “Ran out of petrol.”

  He stood and prowled—there was no other word for it—across the room to squat at the far edge of the big piece of worn blue carpet. “Ready?”

  Cassie blinked from her reverie and readied herself to roll her end. With Hone’s help, the process ran smoothly. They stacked the last piece with the others against the wall and moved into the next room where Emma was already busy lifting tacks.

  “Why is there sheep shit everywhere?” Hone eyed the graffiti on the wall. “The tags are recent.”

  Cassie scowled at the slogans. Red in this room.
“There were sheep here when we came inside. The vandals left the back door open, or at least that’s my assumption.”

  “How did they get in?”

  “The front door wasn’t locked.”

  “You’re not staying here tonight,” Hone said.

  Not a question. A statement.

  Cassie lifted her chin to give him attitude. Her scowl bounced right off his flirtatious grin.

  “I have no idea what they did with the furniture,” she said. “I had intended to stay, but the house has been stripped. The lawyer organized someone to clean the house. At least that was my assumption. I’ll have to ask him about Grandad’s private stuff.”

  “He didn’t tell you?” Hone asked.

  Cassie exchanged an I-bet-I-know-what-happened glance with Emma. “My parents probably had a hand in the house clearing. They assumed my father would inherit but Grandad left the property to me.”

  Hone’s gaze skimmed her, their surroundings. “You said the front door was unlocked?”

  “The lawyer made a point of giving me the keys so it should’ve been locked.”

  “I’ll see if I can find where they broke inside.” Hone stalked from the room, his exit as quiet as his entrance.

  “That man needs bells,” she said to Emma, surreptitiously rubbing her butt again.

  “Where will you stay?”

  “I’ll book a motel room in Papakura until I can replace furniture and have new locks fitted.”

  “I can sort out the locks for you,” Hone said.

  Cassie started and clapped her hand to her racing heart. “Will you stop creeping around?”

  “I’ll wear my bells tomorrow,” Hone deadpanned.

  “You heard that?”

  “He has the hearing of a bat,” Emma said. “So does Jack. It’s a PI thing.”

  “My Auntie June runs a motel in Papakura. I’ll give her a call if you want a room,” Hone offered.

  “You heard that too?”

  Hone full-out grinned. Yep, lethal and she’d become a victim. Heat spilled into her cheeks, and she had to focus on hiding her unease.

  “Should I ring Auntie?”

  “Yes, please. I’d like to book in for a week.”