Lucien: Dragofin Mated: Book 2 (Dragonfin Clan Mated)

by Mychal Daniels

  Instead of the euphoria, he’d once experienced after a sexual ritual cleansing with the priestess, now he was non-pulsed. In the depths of the Dragon wisdom that lived within him, times of great danger loomed. He had to find a way to regain his power and strength before whatever it was to come showed itself. In nursing that feeling, his Dragon rumbled his agreement. Lucien would do whatever needed to make sure none of his Clan suffered even the slightest harm.

  Lucien allowed the soft prayer to leap from his thoughts to his words as he spoke, “What do you want from me that I haven’t already given, dear Goddess?” he asked, leaving the Temple to return to the station and his men. “I’ll do whatever I need to, to receive the answer. Please let us all return from this battle without harm. Also, grant me a chance to fix whatever it is I must to re-establish your blessings and gifts to our Clan. Thank you, and I love you, your humble servant, Lucien Dragos.”

  The swirl of life slinked itself down and around, giving him more than a boost to proceed in battle. The Goddess must have heard and appeared to answer his prayer. Now to face whatever tried to come through that portal.

  3

  Quinn Bradford: January… Miss Connie’s Diner, Atlanta, GA, Industrial & Warehouse district on the Westside of the city

  “Time to come clean. I’m not here on vacation.” Quinn stopped and eyed her best friend across the table.

  She needed some support to get through this, and her best friend sat here in full-on pragmatist mode. Said friend, Wren Douglas, wasn't so easy to read, no indicators to gauge her reaction. The conversation was going to be tough as it was without getting some feedback here.

  Have to get on with it then.

  Quinn started again, this time allowing the words to tumble out as they may. “Wren, I’ve lost it all. The office lease, my apartment and soon it’ll be my car. The business is on the rocks, and you’re the only one I can tell right now.” Wren’s expression softened and beamed calm with a dash of encouragement. Quinn used it as needed fuel to go on. “It’s dire; all my things are in storage, and I’m always checking to make sure my car is still where I parked it. If I don’t get enough money to catch the payments up right now, I’ll be walking.”

  “Why did you let it get this bad? I knew something wasn’t right. Quinn, if you’d let me know sooner—you know talked to me like you are now—I would’ve been able to do more to help. I hate it when my gut is right. Now, the situation is gargantuan.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “If that car gets repoed who’s gonna chauffeur me around for the next few weeks? I was looking forward to not having to take a ride-share or bus. I already told Zia my best friend was coming to town and she’d get a two-week vacation.”

  Quinn could tell Wren was trying hard to cheer her up. It was a sweet gesture. She loved this woman. But did she have to bring up Zia? Quinn would never admit she was jealous of the woman.

  She was Wren’s best friend, not that sexpot bakery owner. Wren’s talent ran circles around her too. Most of Zia’s success was from guys coming into her bakery to see her and not her baked goods. While she was here, Quinn would make sure Wren was less dependent on Zia for anything. That would be best, yes, that was what best friends did for each other.

  “Wren, you have to learn how to drive. We're twenty-five. Insurance goes down for us. Stop being a baby about it and let me teach you while I'm here." Quinn stared until Wren looked up from her food. "Wren, I’m not sure why you never tried to learn to drive again. Don't allow a simple mishap to keep you from having personal freedom. What if you ever get stranded and need to drive yourself somewhere?” Wren gave her a look that translated the flip off she knew her friend wanted to give instead. Might as well get the rest of it out. “When I said I’d like to stay for a few weeks, that was so I could get a chance to regroup and get my money back from him.”

  “You didn’t have to hide this from me. I’m here, and my home is open to you for as long as you need it.”

  “But it’s a one bedroom, one bath apartment,” Quinn said, stabbing at laughter to lift the heaviness of having to come clean about her predicament.

  “Haha—I guess Princess Quinn will have to learn how to appreciate the sofa bed. There are no peas under the mattress, I promise.” Wren laughed. That had to be a good sign that her pragmatic friend was taking it in stride. “No worries. When I go back after my holiday vacation in a few weeks, you’ll have the place to yourself in the mornings. Stay as long as you want. And, I’m not even going there on what you mean by that him comment.”

  Hearing about Wren’s job as a pastry chef for a restaurant downtown sent Quinn’s mood right back down to the bottom. She had to tell her the rest—the part that affected Wren.

  “Hey Wren, wait, there’s more!” The joke fell flat. Not able to face her friend for the next part, it was her turn to look down into her plate. Better get to it. “All right, here goes. I spent all my cushion. No, I take that back. It’s so much worse than that. My life savings, inheritance, and dignity are gone too. It sucks major balls.” She dared to look back up at Wren. The woman remained calm, taking in a spoonful of her soup as Quinn looked for support. Time to press on and finish up the worst part of this. “So you see Wren, that’s why I have to go and meet with him. I need him to repay that loan.” Quinn hated having this conversation with her best friend.

  They sat in the busy Diner eating the best sandwiches and soup she’d had in a long time. A shame really, since the conversation sapped her taste buds and enjoyment of the food right out. Wren wrinkled her nose while she considered Quinn’s words. Quinn looked around, watching the jovial waitress, called Miss Connie. The woman flitted about the room pouring coffee, taking orders and spreading her good cheer. The day was cold and a little dreary with that muted daylight that was most of the winter season. Quinn hated it, and this conversation wasn’t helping her outlook.

  “All of it? Including the gap money from Liesel and me too?” Wren asked.

  And that was the part that hurt Quinn the most. She’d lost both her best friend and sister’s investment into her company—everything. “Yes, including that part. I made bad decisions, overspent on overhead, and gave Craig a loan to launch his sports apparel company.”

  Wren had stopped eating and stared at her split pea soup. “How much did you give him?” Her question was quiet, but not enough to hide the anger beneath it.

  Quinn swallowed, not liking how angry her sweet-as-sugar friend appeared to be getting. “I loaned him twenty-five thousand. Then found out that he transferred another fifteen thousand dollars out of my secondary business account.” She felt worse that an idiot for having to admit how stupid she’d been believing him and his crazy idea to start a business.

  “Forty-thousand dollars, Quinn? Jesus, that was supposed to buffer you for at least another year, with your clients starting to pick up.”

  Quinn didn’t want to tell her that the clients had dried up too. “It’s slow out there with the change in the economy and political climate. Most would-be clients aren’t spending what they used to on marketing and promotion consulting.”

  “Don’t try to throw me off with that. It’s been three years since you started this business. And, I know how hard you've worked to make it in these male-driven promotions and marketing industries. I know you're an exceptional promoter. Your business is going to take off. Of that, I'm sure. Quinn, you don’t have to try to convince me of that. No, what I’m frustrated with is your nigh-obsession with your ex-fiancé, Craig. Right now you need to tell me the rest. How bad is it? And don’t try to do your usual sugar coating job. Give it to me straight. That’s the only way I can figure out how much this affects me and how to proceed from here.”

  Uh-oh, not good.

  “Wren—”

  The hand Wren put up wasn’t a good sign. She was in no mood to do anything but get to the point. Quinn might lose her closest friend over this.

  “I know I fucked up royally, but let’s not have this discussi
on here. Right now I need to get my nerve up to see Craig. I told him I was coming to town and would like to meet him while I was here to discuss this.”

  “You can’t be serious. You told that con-artist you were coming and when to expect you?” Wren’s spoon popped out of the soup, spattering pale green soup onto the table as she hit it in her snap movement. “You know better than to give him a heads up. I bet he’s picked up and moved on by now. Good luck ever seeing that money again.”

  “Don’t be like that. I've set up an appointment to meet up after he gets off work at the gym.”

  “With Craig? Aka, the most unreliable jerk to ever grace the face of the planet? Hah! If you believe he’ll keep that appointment, you’re way more gullible about him than I thought. Look, Quinn, I don’t need to give you another I-told-you-so. That won’t help either of us right now. At this moment, you need to get some professional help. I’m talking getting a lawyer and the police involved.”

  “I can’t do that. My financial statements are a mess. I know I’ve commingled funds here and there. It’s been hard over the last three years trying to keep the business afloat and take care of myself.”

  “Never mind that, you still need to get someone involved who can help you forcibly get your—our—money back. Hell, I’ll even settle for one of those TV shows where you go in front of a judge.”

  “I already checked on that one you like to watch. They only go up to ten thousand dollars in claims since they pay the winning judgment.”

  Wren had finished cleaning up the splattered soup by now and had pushed the half-eaten bowl to the side. “I need you to consider more than your need to see that jerk again. Tangling with him again isn’t a game or challenge you can win. Your need to conquer pretty-boy Craig needs to be over. He won. While you were trying to subdue him, he was playing you, and stealing your money.”

  Wren took in a long breath to slow down and remain in control. This conversation made for an unpleasant one. It wasn’t fun seeing her this upset. Yeah, this was the part Quinn had been dreading—having to put her friend in the middle of her drama again.

  Wren spoke again, this time, less tense. “Quinn, stop trying to best men you think have power issues. You're on a fool’s errand. Instead, you have to get a good plan together and stop showing your playbook to him at every turn. Isn’t it enough that you had to come here to track him down? I knew something was fishy when you said y’all broke up and he moved here. Be honest; he was here when you found out after he stole that money from you. Am I right?” All Quinn could manage to do was a nod. Wren managed to keep her voice down, but the anger was still there. “Does Liesel know yet?”

  Oh hell, this was getting worse by the minute. “No, and please don’t go calling to tell her. Give me enough time to get this money from him to get both of you paid back. I’ll worry about my part of the money later. Wren, you have to believe me. I’m over him. I’m going to get the money back and move on.”

  “Quinn, I believe you believe what you say. It’s just that you can be overly optimistic about people and life. Honey, I know you don't want to hear me say it, but you tend to see only the positive part of life. You don’t ever consider what could go wrong or even that anything could go wrong. I love your drive and adventurous spirit, but it’s time for you to slow down a little and look before you leap. Please, let’s get a plan in place before you confront Craig. I’d rather you see him after you’ve gotten a garnishment on his paycheck, a legal judgment for fraud and theft, or even better, him in jail. I don’t believe he can do right by you otherwise.”

  Quinn knew what Wren said was true, but it hurt too much to look it head on. Instead, she made circles in the ketchup remnants on her plate and tried not to cry.

  “I know, but he works close by here. I wanted to have you with me when I met with him.”

  “Oh no, I’m not getting dragged into this soap opera between you two. There’s no telling what that scheming fraud might say or do."

  "Wow, tell me how you honestly feel about him."

  "This is no joking matter. You make light of his antics, but I'm no dummy when it comes to Craig Bastian. Nope, not going anywhere near the bastard. I wouldn’t want to run the risk of going to jail for what I might do when he started his lies and pitiful charm act.”

  “That’s it? You’re not going to go with me?”

  “No, I’m certain it’ll be of no use. Plus, I can’t believe you’d even think about asking me to. Don’t you remember the last time I was around Craig at that baseball game? We almost got put out of the stadium over that argument.”

  “You accused him of cheating on me.”

  “That’s because he was! When you went to the restroom, he took out his phone and started texting someone. He texted her about how much he loved and wanted her to send him a picture to help him get through his day.”

  “I checked his phone that night.”

  “Quinn, listen to yourself. When it comes to that slug, Craig, you lose all hope of common sense. My answer is no. I’m not going anywhere near him. I advise you to stay away from him too. I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t have plans to weasel even more money out of you this time.”

  Quinn had been played like a fool. It was true. She’d devolved into a gullible simpleton when it came to him. Now she had to get that money back.

  The bell on the door to the busy Diner chimed. Jumpy from the conversation and needing a break from Wren’s scrutiny, Quinn looked past her friend’s shoulder to see a group of men come in. None of them were interesting enough to hold her attention. The perky waitress, Miss Connie, greeted them by name as they sat at the counter.

  The sound of fingers popping close to her ear, had Quinn turning her attention back into their conversation. There sat before her a distinctly pissed Wren.

  “Don’t do that when I’m trying to help you get a plan together. Pay attention. I don’t want you going off half-cocked on some fool’s errand. Quinny, I hate to say this, but I think you should cross him off as a way to get your money back. That is, at least for now. Right now you need a better plan to make that money back, and he needs to go to jail for what he did. Do you have any prospects or clients you can check with?”

  “If I did, I wouldn’t be here for two weeks. I’d be back home working with them.”

  A silence grew between them as Quinn’s guilt, embarrassment and shame batted her around. Exposed like this, she was off her game. It had been a while since she had been her charming self. Wren reached across the table and placed a hand over hers. The gesture was kind but did little to restore Quinn’s sense of well-being.

  “Hey, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so harsh on you.” Wren moved the ketchup bottle and salt over to extend both hands over hers. “Thank you for coming clean with me. I know it was hard, but now we can put our heads together and figure out a way to get you back on your feet. Remember, I took time off the spend with you? I don’t have anywhere else to be but hanging out. We can go home and get a game plan together. I still suggest the least you do is speak with an attorney before you do any confrontation, though. Will you agree to that?” Wren asked, giving her hands a little squeeze.

  “Sure, I can—”

  The bells from the door to the Diner rang again. This time a woman, tall and movie-star beautiful stepped through the entrance. The man who followed intimately close behind her stopped to look around for a seat. Quinn’s reactions took over. Snatching her hands out of Wren’s and grabbing for cover, she slapped one of the hefty menus against her forehead.

  “Ow!” The sharp reaction came out before she could catch it.

  Unwilling to be discovered, Quinn slapped at Wren’s hands attempting to take the menu away.

  “What are you doing? I was talking to you. Quinny, are you feeling all right?”

  “Shh, it’s him at the door.”

  “Who?”

  “Look for yourself, but don’t be obvious about it.”

  Quinn waited, hoping her friend would go with
the flow and do as she asked. After a prolonged group of seconds, Wren’s hand was back, pulling at the menu again.

  “Put that down. The coast is clear. They sat on the other side over there,” Wren said, successfully snatching the menu out of Quinn’s trembling fingers. “Are you okay?”

  “Hell no, I’m not okay. Don’t you see it, Wren? Of all the places to be, Craig walked through that door while we're here. It's answered prayer—clear as the day is dreary. Come on Wren, don't be like that." Wren's expression had retreated behind a stone face. Quinn wouldn't give up, not now, not with him within mere feet. She pressed on, determined to rally Wren's support. "What are the odds? He’s walked into the same place as me for lunch. I think it’s a sign to go on and get this over with.”

  “But he’s having lunch with a woman. It looks like they’re on a date or together. I’d still wait. We can slip out and be on our way before he has the chance to see us.”

  “Nope, not today. I have to do this. My stomach is eating me up inside with all the stress, worry, and anxiety over seeing him and getting my money back.”

  “But he’s with another woman. I don’t think this could go well. Not with how much guys like to show off in front of their girlfriends.”

  The little kick that hit Quinn's insides at hearing the word “girlfriend” when it wasn't a reference to her stung a wee bit more than she’d like to admit. Quinn didn’t want to do this, not with another woman here. But, when would she be presented with the opportunity again?

  “I have to do this. It’s a blessing and the perfect strategy. I have you here. It’s a crowded Diner, so he can’t blow me off. And like you said, he’ll try to impress that woman he’s with by being cordial. Don’t worry, he’ll at least listen to me.”