Dragon's Honor

by Mina Carter

  She met his gaze, her expression serious and honest. “Ordinarily, yes. But the seers say there are indications that Croft is involved in the illegal trafficking of paras. Which means he’s numero uno on a lot of people’s list. We just happen to have the in.”

  At her words, steel straightened Baron’s spine and his brother stepped free from the shadows, the same grim expression on his face Baron knew was on his own.

  “We’re in. What do we have to do?”

  Chapter Two

  If Honor hadn’t known the dark stains on the wall were blood, she’d have thought they made rather a pretty pattern, like the expensive modern art pieces in her father’s office. She shivered. But, pretty as they might appear, these weren’t anything so expensive or benign.

  Turning slowly, she took in the scene in front of her. An abandoned factory on the company’s portfolio, the place looked like something out of a horror film. Shadows crowded deeply at the edges of the room and the meager light from the broken sky-lights offered scant illumination even at midday. The ones not broken were covered in grime and debris from years of neglect.

  Marks on the floor showed where production rows had been, with drill holes in the concrete for the now absent machines. The place must have been stripped when the last owners left. Power was out, but even if it wasn’t, it wouldn’t have done them any good. The bulbs in the strip-lighting were all smashed. One unit dangled from one chain, shattered beyond repair, with more brown stains on the floor below it.

  Honor skirted them, her heels ringing out against the floor as she ventured further into the gloom. As soon as she’d seen this property in the system, bought months ago but not developed, her spidey-senses had started to tingle. The property wing of Croft Enterprises was strictly a hit-hard, swift turnaround venture. It was unusual for something to sit on the books untouched for six weeks, never mind the six months this one had. She avoided another brown patch and wrinkled her nose. Looked like her suspicions were correct.

  Her assistant though, was less squeamish. Crouching at the edge of the stains, she rubbed at something on the floor, and then sniffed her fingers. “Oh yes, definitely looks like circle fighting.”

  “Ugh, Lucy.” Honor couldn’t help her grimace. “Don’t do that. You have no idea what’s been on this floor.”

  “On the contrary, this is chalk with....” She sniffed again. “St. John’s Wort.”

  She dropped her hand and looked at the stains with a frown. “Looks like they’re using magic circles to contain the fights which means we’re definitely looking at para fights.”

  “Definitely?” Honor threw a smile over her shoulder. Lucy was real fond of certain words, definitely being one of them. Well used to the teasing, Lucy didn’t rise to the bait. Instead she just nodded.

  “Definitely. Hey! Watch your feet!”

  Honor whipped her head back around and stopped dead, foot in mid-air. Where she’d been about to step, the floor fell away into darkness. Heart in her throat, she took a step back, and then another. Christ, one more step and she’d have fallen right into lord knows what.

  “Shit, that was close. You okay, chick?”

  Lucy was at her side in an instant, her hand under Honor’s arm in quick gesture of support.

  “Yeah, I’m good, thanks. Crap, I didn’t expect that. What is it?”

  With her heart-rate returning to normal, Honor stepped closer to the edge, Lucy at her side. Now that she could see it, the edge of the hole was easy to spot. A large, jagged tear in the floor, it looked for all the world like some giant had grabbed a handful of concrete and torn it free. The two women edged closer. Lucy pulled a small penlight from her pocket and snapped it on.

  The thin beam of light played over the bottom of the hole. Concrete and dirt lined the bottom, as rough and uneven as the walls. Honor grimaced as a sharp stink wafted upwards, burning her nose and bringing tears to her eyes.

  “Hell, what is that?”

  “Sulfur. Smells like they had a demon in here.” Lucy’s voice was curious as she moved closer, the light playing over the crude walls of the pit. Strange sigils were written on them in what looked to be the same chalk that circled the floor. “Yeah, look. It’s a demon trap, right there built into the hole. Crap, whoever is doing this really knows what they’re doing. You don’t...you can’t fuck about with demons. It’s freaking suicide.”

  “Hey, what’s that over there?” Honor squinted, trying to make out details in a lighter patch of shadow on the other side of the pit. Holding her hand out for Lucy’s torch, she edged around the opening, training the light on whatever it was. With each step more details came into view until she stopped, bile rising in her throat.

  It was a dog, or had been. Now it was a corpse, its abdomen torn open and guts spilling out like the stuffing from a burst teddy bear.

  “Pit-bull.” Lucy’s voice seemed to come from far away. “Wouldn’t have stood a chance against a demon. What sick fuck puts a dog into a fight with a para?”

  A large clang deeper in the warehouse made both their heads snap up. Honor’s eyes narrowed as she tried to pierce the gloom beyond the weak pool of light cast by the nearest broken skylight. The shadows crowded closer and unease slithered down her spine. She’d walked in here determined to prove that someone at Croft Enterprises was organizing illegal para-fights but she hadn’t considered what she would do when she found the evidence she needed. Or if the organizers and participants hadn’t left.

  “I think we should get out of here.” Lucy picked up on her mood, wariness in her voice. “I’ve got enough on my phone camera.”

  “Agreed.” Honor couldn’t help the shiver that rocked up her spine as they turned for the door, each step faster than the last. The darkness seemed to swell behind them, the silence ominous, as though the shadows themselves watched and reached out, greedy to trap the two women within their embrace. She upped her fast walk to a trot, then an all-out run as they approached the door they’d entered by.

  Heart pounding, skin slick with cold sweat, Honor burst out of the door and into the sunlight, Lucy hard on her heels. Both overshot the car, only stopping the other side to pant, hands on their knees, and look back warily to make sure nothing had followed them from the darkness.

  After a long pause, when nothing seemed in imminent danger of bursting free and attacking them in the warm light of day, she slid a glance sideways at Lucy. As wide-eyed as Honor knew she must be herself, the other woman shuddered, like she shook off a specter and slid her phone into her purse before offering a small smile. “Look at us, bloody jumping at shadows. Fancy a coffee on the way back?”

  ***

  It didn’t take them long to get back to the office, even with the coffee stop, but before they’d swept through the expansive reception, Honor had taken three calls on various projects and received a text summons from her father.

  She waved at Kirsty, the receptionist, as the two passed in a clatter of heels against the marble floor. Handing Lucy her bag when they got in the elevator, she hit the button for the floor her office was on, then the one for the boardrooms and senior offices. “Take this through for me, would you, hon? I need to head on up to see my father.”

  Lucy nodded in response, her attention on the photos on her phone as she looped Honor’s bag over her shoulder. “These sigils are really clear. I’m going to send them over to a friend of mine who’s into this sort of thing.” She looked up as the door pinged their arrival. “If that’s okay with you, of course?”

  “Uh-huh, whatever you need to do.” Honor stepped forward, checking up and down the corridor to make sure they weren’t overheard. “Just make sure you do it on your phone, don’t put anything into the computer systems here. I’m fairly sure that all emails are being monitored.”

  They had to be, it was the only explanation for certain people in the company knowing about her projects before she’d told anyone outside her team. Which pissed her the hell off.

  Lucy grinned and winked. “Stealth mode
initiated. Later ’gator.”

  Honor shook her head but couldn’t help the smile as she stepped back into the lift. It closed with a soft whoosh. Why she put up with the girl’s cheek, she had no idea, but, despite her unconventional attitude, she’d never had a better assistant.

  The ride the rest of the way up to her father’s office took less than a minute. As she emerged into the thickly carpeted corridor, Honor cast a quick glance at the artwork on the walls and shuddered. The random splashes of red reminded her too much of the blood on the walls and floor at the warehouse.

  Ignoring them, she set off down the corridor towards her father’s office, heels silent in the plush carpeting. The air conditioner was racked right up, but she still felt grimy from the heat of the streets and being in the warehouse. God, she didn’t want to think about the warehouse but it kept raising its head like an unwanted ghost.

  The idea that her father knew about it, had condoned what went on there, churned her stomach. Sure, she knew some of his dealings in the past had been on the shady side, but that was money...not lives. Figures fudged in the columns of double-entry book-keeping, not blood on the walls and guts spilled on the floor.

  The door to his offices was ajar, as usual. Unlike a lot of big bosses, particularly ones of his age, her father had an open door policy. She pushed it further and slipped through it into the outer office.

  Maggie, her father’s PA sat to one side, her fingers flying over a keyboard as she typed a hundred miles a minute. At the same time she had a phone tucked against her shoulder, ordering catering for something by the sounds of it. She looked up and smiled when she saw Honor, lifting a hand to wiggle her fingers in hello as Honor headed towards the door opposite. Her father’s office. The inner sanctum. The place she remembered playing when she was a child, her coloring books spread out one side of the desk as her father worked on the other.

  Movement at the corner of her eye made her pause, and turn toward the comfortable couches arranged in front of picture windows that had one of the best views of the city she’d ever seen. Then the world stopped. A man stood in front of them, hands behind his back. Tall and broad, with the sort of build that screamed power. Everything about him got her attention in an instant.

  Well, helllloo honey. Where you been all my life?

  Like most of the men she saw in her day to day life, he wore a suit. An expensive one by the look of it. Longish hair was caught back at the nape of his neck, the only deviation from boardroom-norm she could see. As though he could feel her gaze on him, he turned and looked over his shoulder. Bright blue eyes pierced her, the look assessing, as though he could see all the way through her down to her soul.

  Her body lit up like a Christmas tree, all her feminine instincts demanding that she cross the distance between them and wrap herself around him like a cat. As though he could read her thoughts, the blue of his eyes deepened, his lips parting. Her gaze dropped to them at the slight movement and she fought back a shiver. His lips weren’t overly full, but the sensual quirk did things to her body that should have been illegal.

  He moved, his hands lifting to straighten his tie. A small whimper escaped her when she spotted the dark edge of a tattoo under his cuff. Long hair and tattoos? He was totally rocking the whole ‘bad boy in a suit’ look, how was a girl supposed to resist?

  The sound of Maggie putting her phone down galvanized Honor into action. Tearing her eyes away from the waiting hottie, she turned smartly on her heel and headed into her father’s office.

  *

  Fuck. Me.

  Baron stood motionless in front of the large windows as though he’d been pole-axed. Sure, he’d known from the photo what Honor Croft looked like, but nothing had prepared him for seeing the woman in the flesh. Nothing could have prepared him for seeing the woman in the flesh. He’d been expecting spoiled socialite, so the smart business suit and self-possessed air had taken him by surprise, as had the immediate and overwhelming reaction from both his body and his dragon.

  Need. Lust. Obsession.

  And that had been before she’d shivered and looked like she wanted to eat him whole. In a good way. In a way he wasn’t going to argue about. No siree.

  His cock flared to life in his pants, forcing him to turn rapidly to avoid betraying the state of his body to the PA behind the desk who had watched that little interplay before Honor had swept through the door into her father’s office.

  She’d whimpered. An honest to goodness whimper. Determination straightened his back, despite the weight of Duke wriggling on the skin there. He wanted to hear that whimper again. He had to. Hearing her make that breathy, feminine little sound again, preferably when she was stretched out naked under him, had just become his new life goal.

  What’s going on? Duke demanded, far more garrulous over their mental link than he was aloud. Made Baron kind of glad they were only telepathic when touching, or in their dragon forms. Is she here yet? Fuck, couldn’t you have gotten a bigger jacket? I’m squashed in here, you porker!

  That’s ’cause you’re in there as well, you daft twat. Stop moving and you’ll be fine. Baron replied in a calm voice, more concerned with getting his wayward erection to subside than answering his brother. There was no way he was walking into his new boss’s office with a boner. That would make a cracking first impression. Not.

  He ignored the grumbling and the squirming under his skin. At least it was under the skin and not over it, otherwise his jacket would resemble the hunchback of Notre Dames’ right about now. And since he was pretending to be garden variety human, that wouldn’t do at all.

  “Mr. Croft is ready for you now, Mr. Smith.”

  “Thank you.”

  He acknowledged the PA’s comment with a small nod, straightened his jacket, turned, and headed for the door Honor had disappeared through ahead of him. Thankfully, his body was behaving and the front of his pants no longer tented. Of course, that was only embarrassing because he was meeting the woman’s father. If it was just the two of them, it would be a different matter. In fact, the two of them in a room with a horizontal surface? Things could get real interesting, real fast.

  What’s going on? Where are we now? Duke demanded, wriggling across Baron’s shoulders and sliding down his arm to try and peek out from under his shirt cuff.

  Will you behave? Hissing through his teeth, Baron clamped a hand down around the cuff and trapped his brother’s ink-like muzzle before it could emerge from under the cotton. You’re going to blow our damn cover if you’re not careful.

  Duke retreated, grumbling under his ‘breath’ again, but was still. He hadn’t returned to Baron’s back though and had instead remained curled around his arm. Baron didn’t trust him for a second. The instant he relaxed, Duke would do just what the fuck he wanted. He always did.

  Behave, or I clear all your shit out the spare bedroom, Baron threatened as he reached out and rapped his knuckles on the door. It was partly open anyway, so it was more a courtesy thing.

  You wouldn’t dare. Duke huffed, manifesting claws from the ink-form long enough to stick them into Baron’s arm. Besides, you can’t get in there.

  With explosives, Baron added.

  Bastard, his brother grumbled in reply. Baron grinned, he’d won this round.

  “Come in.”

  The masculine voice had to belong to Laurence Croft himself, as he was the only male in the room when Baron walked in. Honor sat in one of the chairs in front of the desk. From the stiff set of her shoulders and the fact she didn’t look his way, deliberately by the look of it, he’d put his money on the fact she’d just been told something she didn’t want to hear.

  “Ahh, Smith, thank you for joining us.”

  Croft stood and rounded the desk, surprising Baron by offering his hand to shake. Most big-wigs like this wouldn’t have bothered, asserting their superiority through rudeness, but Croft’s shake and smile seemed genuine. More than that, the relief seeping from his pores was obvious to any guy with a nose on his face.r />
  “No problem, sir.” Baron ignored the movement over his arm as Duke slid around. Sneaky fuck was using the gap under his cuff to peek out from.

  “Right, well. Let’s get down to it.” Croft turned to his daughter, and for a split second Baron caught the look of discomfort in the guy’s eyes as he took in the rigid set of Honor’s shoulders. For a moment Laurence deflated, and Baron felt for him. That he loved and cared about his daughter was obvious. Trouble was, often kids, even adult ones, didn’t see it that way. Then the older man took a breath, straightened his back, and smiled.

  “Honor, this is Mr. Smith. He will be in charge of your safety for the next co...little while.”

  “Dad, I told you, I don’t need a bodyguard.”

  Baron hid his smile as Honor turned. The look that passed between father and daughter melted Baron’s somewhat craggy heart. The love and affection between them was obvious, even though they were patently out of sorts with each other at the moment. Laurence reached out to take her hands, pulling her to her feet.

  “Please, angel. It would make me feel a lot better knowing that you had someone as capable as Smith here looking after you. I worry about you; this will make me sleep easier when I’m away in London.”

  Baron was pleased to see she didn’t pout, or argue, but instead inclined her head in a graceful movement. “There’s no need to worry, but okay.”

  Laurence beamed and dragged his daughter into a swift hug. At the same moment, the phone on the desk behind chirped once.

  “Damn it, that’s my afternoon meeting. I’ll leave you in Mr. Smith’s capable hands. Don’t forget to ring me.”

  Honor smiled. “Of course not, now go. I’ll see you when you get back.”

  Chapter Three

  As soon as the door closed behind her father’s retreating back, Honor rounded on the brooding bad-boy who’d been assigned to look after her. In just one sentence from her father, he’d been reduced from potential one night stand to someone she wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot barge pole. Look after indeed, what century did her father, and this guy, think they were in?