by Leigh, Lora
“Do what you have to do,” she whispered, staring up at him, her heartbeat accelerating at the thought. “We’ll have tonight.”
“Yes, we’ll have tonight,” he assured her, kissing her just enough to keep from messing up the light pink lipstick she wore before drawing away. “Come on, I’ll drive you in. Ronan can follow us.”
He caught her hand and held it all the way to the truck. Ronan didn’t follow them though. He jumped in the back seat of the dual cab, uncharacteristically silent as Ilya pulled from the house.
“The two of you should get dinner before you pick me up,” she told them when neither of them appeared to have anything to talk about.
“What would you like?” Ilya made the turn into town, staring straight ahead as Ronan remained silent.
“Mexican maybe, or Italian,” she suggested. “It doesn’t matter. I just didn’t put anything in the slow cooker before we left.”
Because she hadn’t laid anything out the night before. It wasn’t normal for her to forget that, especially with her brother around.
“Mexican it is,” Ilya promised her. “Text me what you prefer and we’ll pick it up before coming for you.”
She nodded before glancing back at her brother.
He was leaning into the backrest, his hat pulled over his eyes, as though dozing.
His conversation with Ilya had upset him the night before. Once everything was over and Ilya was gone, she’d have to let him know that she’d gone into this with her eyes open. Everyday-girls-next-door didn’t get to keep the dark knight, no matter how much they loved or how much they wished.
But she was certain no one would ever love Ilya more than she did. As dangerous as he was, as impossible to predict, and as arrogant as he could get, she loved him.
“Nik’s waiting to walk in with you,” Ilya stated as they parked behind Nik’s pickup across from the front entrance. “Elizaveta and Maxine are in the parking lot, they’ll be there till I pick you up.” He gestured to the dark sedan with tinted windows parked beneath a tree in the lot on the other side of the sidewalk.
“I’ll be fine,” she promised him, even though she crossed her fingers and prayed she was right. “I’ll see you this evening.”
His short nod and implacable expression almost caused her to grin.
“Kiss me goodbye,” she murmured.
He glanced at Ronan in the back seat with a scowl.
Her brother shifted restlessly.
“For God’s sake, kiss her and get it the hell over with so I can take this damned cap off my face!” Ronan snapped. “And be damned quiet about it.”
Ilya slid one hand into her hair and pulled her to him for a quick, hard kiss.
“Am I allowed to kill your brother?” he growled against her lips.
“Not today.” She wagged her finger at him as she drew back, fighting against the sadness that threatened to overtake her. “You two get along now, or I’m telling Daddy on you.”
Ilya grimaced while her brother gave a mocking snort, straightened his cap, and opened his door to step out of the truck.
Opening her door, he helped her out, handed her over to a waiting Nik, then slid into the front seat.
“Those two will end up disagreeing,” Nik murmured as he glanced in the truck to see Ronan shoot Ilya the finger.
“I think they already have,” she sighed, remembering the conversation from the night before as Nik led her across the street. “I’m just hoping they don’t come to blows.”
“Keep hoping,” Nik suggested, amused. “But don’t bet on it.”
Stepping to the door, he sheltered her with his own body as he unlocked it and stepped inside with her. Checking the spacious outer office, he moved behind her as she strode to her desk.
She was halfway there when without warning hard hands grabbed her shoulders and Nik was throwing her to the floor as everything went to hell in a clash of violence that turned the world black. Her last thought was that she might not have tonight with her dragon after all.
* * *
Watching Emma Jane cross the street with Nik, Ilya couldn’t shake off the heavy premonition filling him. He could feel it, like a malevolent force gathering around him.
Nik kept her carefully sheltered, even as he unlocked the door and escorted her inside. She was safe. He repeated that assurance, but still, he threw open the door, ignoring Ronan’s sharp question, and took the first step to cross the street when his world shifted in an explosion of such force it blew the windows of the office out and threw Ilya back against the truck.
Reality faded before his horrified gaze.
Smoke, glass, and dust billowed from the gaping holes where windows had once been, just feet from where Emma Jane had stood inside the office.
He screamed her name.
He could hear himself screaming her name as his body jerked into action and he raced to the building.
There was no getting in through the front doors. Cement blocks, twisted metal, and debris blocked the entrance.
He didn’t waste time fighting what he knew couldn’t be moved. Instead, he raced down the sidewalk and up a short alley and went in through the back, followed by Ronan as well as several other men, along with Maxine and Elizaveta.
He had to get in there. He had to find Emma Jane.
God help him, what would he do without her?
* * *
She couldn’t breathe.
Emma Jane fought to see through the dust and smoke burning her eyes and blocking her vision. Just forcing her eyes open hurt. She had to blink several times to get past the layer of dust that seemed to coat them as well as her throat.
Everything sounded distant, not quite right, as though she were trying to hear through water like she did as a kid in the bath.
She could hear sirens blaring, but the sound was muted, screams, animalistic and filled with rage. Even as she tried to make sense of the sudden change in reality, she fought to breathe, to drag in enough air that panic didn’t overtake her.
The air was thick, gritty, and it felt like inches of it were coating her lungs. But even if it weren’t, there was a weight on her back, pressing her tight to the floor and making it hard to pull oxygen into her lungs. And it hurt.
It hurt so bad.
She couldn’t move, she couldn’t breathe.
And she had no idea why.
What happened?
Fear was filling her instead of air, panic blooming in her mind as she fought against the pain and fear.
“Emma Jane,” Nik groaned her name, his voice weaker than she’d ever heard it. “Stay still. Just for a bit.”
Stay still? She had to move. She had to get out of there where she could breathe, where she could find Ilya. He was going to be upset that she was hurt.
She tried to move again, only to stop at the sound of Nik’s pained groan. “Still. Stay still.”
“Emma Jane!” Ilya sounded desperate, his voice rough as he screamed her name. “Emma Jane!”
“Ilya,” she tried to call out to him, but the sound was low, barely a whisper as her lung fought to draw in air. “Ilya…”
She tried to move, stopping again at Nik’s low, desperate moan.
Each time she moved, it hurt him. Was he lying on her? Something was, and it was damned heavy.
“Emma. Emma Jane. Baby.” Ilya was suddenly there, crawling to her from the direction of Nik’s office rather than the front door.
She tried to lift her hand, to reach out to him, but her whole body hurt. Moving seemed impossible. His hand gripped hers instead when he reached her and she held on to him for dear life. She could hold on now, her dragon was here. Ilya wouldn’t let anything else happen.
“I’ve got you, baby.” He moved closer, his hands going over her face, her neck.
“Nik’s hurt.” She fought to speak despite the lack of air. “I can’t breathe…” She could feel the panic rising inside her again. “I can’t breathe … I’m scared…”
“I know, matc
ha,” he whispered.
Mate. He called her mate, just as he did the night before and every time he took her.
Dragon’s mate.
She was her dragon’s mate. A dragon’s mate didn’t panic.
Steadying the fear and the panic, she used short breaths as she gripped Ilya’s hand and steadied herself.
“Nik’s hurt,” she whispered again. “I think I’m okay.”
“Hold on.” He touched her face where it lay against the floor. “Ronan has a crew on the other side working to remove the debris. I’m going to ease up here and check Nik okay?”
“Kay.” Short breaths. She wasn’t smothering. Yet.
“I’m right here,” he promised again. “I have to slide over to get in place. You won’t be able to see me…”
“Dammit, Dragon, just do it.” She needed to breathe. “I’ve got this.”
Well, she didn’t really have it, but he didn’t know that. He wouldn’t be disappointed in her because she gave in to her panic.
She closed her eyes and just concentrated on staying sane.
She could hear Ilya talking to Nik but couldn’t make out what they were saying. That droning, buzzing noise was in her head again when she realized those short little breaths weren’t working.
Just concentrate, she told herself. She couldn’t panic, she had to concentrate. Ilya was working as fast as he could.
“Emma, get ready.” Ilya was there again, his hands touching her face, forcing her to concentrate on him as he grabbed her outstretched arms just above her elbows. “Ready, baby?”
“Ready.” She forced the croak out as she gripped his biceps with desperate hands.
She heard someone counting. “One. Two. Three…”
On “Three,” she felt the weight lift from her back. Her first lungful of air had her choking, gasping as her lungs protested.
Ilya dragged her toward him only to have others pull her free while he yelled at someone to get ready. She couldn’t see what was going on. Firm hands pulled her into Nik’s office, then strapped her to a back brace.
The world spun around and fear struck at her as she felt unconsciousness trying to rush over her.
“Dragon,” she whispered his name, thought it sounded more like a whimper as the black edged closer.
“I’m here, baby.” He was there, his hand holding hers as she felt herself slip away. “I’m right here, baby.”
* * *
The ambulances were gone, crime scene investigators and bomb squad just pulling out, when the dark figure stepped to the entrance of what had once been the outer office of Steele Electronic Security.
The upper floor had collapsed into the area, a wide steel beam had caught Nik Steele and pinned him and his receptionist to the floor, nearly killing both of them.
He surveyed the beam, whistling soundlessly at the weight Steele had managed to keep off the Dragon heir’s woman. Had he not, the woman would have been crushed, her much smaller body unable to bear the weight.
And if she had died?
He rubbed at the side of his neck before lowering his arm once again.
Had the woman died, then the Dragon heir would have to be euthanized before he struck back.
Pulling his phone from his jacket pocket, he called the man who had sent him to keep an eye on this particular situation. He had a feeling he’d been sent far too late though.
“Report,” the sharp, clipped voice answered immediately despite the time difference.
“Second strike was made,” he reported. “They messed up. Nik Steele was caught in the explosion. From what I saw, the girl is fine, but he looked in pretty bad shape. Do you have any fucking idea the hell that’s going to converge on this damned place now?”
Silence met his report.
He knew what was going on in the other man’s mind. A war on two different fronts wasn’t something they needed. And they sure as hell didn’t want a war with the black-clad shadow group Steele was part of. And that wasn’t even half as bad as what would be coming now to protect Ilya and his woman.
“He’s a good man. Strong,” the other man mused. “He’ll pull through if he can. What of Ilya?”
“Unharmed,” he stated. “He rode with the woman to the hospital. I should have a report on her condition as well as Steele’s soon.”
“Let me know when you have it,” he was ordered. “I’m boarding the jet now and heading for Washington. I’ll let you know when I land.”
The line disconnected and he sighed heavily. He didn’t believe his boss should interfere in this, but it wasn’t often the other man heeded anyone’s counsel but his own.
Pocketing the phone, he looked at the debris once more before leaving the building and moving unhurriedly to the area where he’d parked his car. He could feel the eyes on him, studying him. Whether they were enemy or friendly or merely curious he had no idea. They were nosy, that was enough for him to know it was time to wrap this the hell up. The situation was now out of control and an international incident wasn’t what they needed.
It damned sure wasn’t what his boss needed. But when had that ever mattered?
The call came over the secured lines located inside the underground operations center of a privately funded, government-backed investigative and strike force known as Elite Operations One.
“Commander,” a voice called out to Nathan Malone, commander of the elite division. Nathan stood tall as he went over several reports handed to him by scrambling operation techs. “We have Viper on the line.”
Commander Malone turned, jerked the landline from its cradle with a barked, “Go.”
“Renegade down, surgery required, possible internal bleeding. The woman’s considered stable, he protected her by taking a steel beam to his back and somehow holding his weight from her. The dragon-heir is unharmed. But we have a bigger problem.” Viper paused. “An unknown was sighted several vehicles back from the two female bodyguards before the explosion and he was wearing a dragon mark on his neck. It looked pretty damned authentic to me too.”
Malone looked down at one of the reports in his hand with a grimace. “Be advised, Viper,” he growled. “We have mobilization in five of the known groups within minutes of the explosion. One is suspected to be elite guards. Report as you can but don’t get burned.”
The call disconnected.
“Get me reports on the grandfather,” he yelled out at the techs. “Where the hell is that wily bastard?”
The dragon-son, the grandfather was called, and dragon-heir, his grandson, though many called him the dragon-son as well. The distinction was that “The” for some reason. The heir’s father had died before taking the mantle of dragon-son, though he’d left a son as an heir to that title. Often, the commander had been told, the heir carried the title as well once he was fully trained and began placing dragons in ink on his own men.
Hell, the information they were pulling in on that damned clan was sketchy and confusing as hell. He’d been much happier before he received the message that came via a Russia contact the year before.
“Meddle not in the affairs of Dragons,” it had read. “For you are crunchy and taste good with ketchup!” The amusing phrase ended with the seal of the dragon families, a dragon in flight.
That message still had the power to make him want to grin, but he had a feeling it was far too close to the truth.
“Commander, we have the old dragon moving,” his senior tech called out. “One RV, a bakers’ dozen riding with it, and what looks like two other units riding on a path that intersects outside Hagerstown. Look out, we have our first known meeting of dragons.”
Just what he needed.
He turned to his assistant. “Get Live Wire on the line. We have a situation…”
chapter fifteen
Nik Steele had sustained two broken ribs, a fractured forearm that required surgery, internal bleeding, and a laceration to the top of his head requiring stitches. The fact that the Viking bastard was still alive amazed the hell out o
f Ilya.
When he’d seen the beam lying across the debris covering the area where he knew they should be, his heart had nearly stopped in his chest. Agony had gripped him, along with a horrifying rush of killing rage.
Because he knew only one person insane enough to strike at both Ilya as well as a former Russian rumored to have seriously covert friends.
And word would be reaching the families loyal to the dragon, Ilya’s grandfather. Sons of those families marked as dragon warriors would be forming, preparing or already in the process of coming together to either protect the dragon-heir or support his protection.
Sitting on the uncomfortable plastic chair in the surgery waiting room with Nik’s wife, Mikayla, and her friend Deidre, he stared at the floor morosely. Emma Jane’s family was with her; the room so crowded there was little enough space for the nurse who kept a check on her vitals. When Ilya learned Mikayla was in the surgery waiting room alone with only her friend, her family having not arrived from a camping trip they’d been on, he’d decided to sit with her.
Hell, he wouldn’t want his sister left alone right now, no matter where the bastard sitting with her wanted to be.
Emma Jane had family, he reminded himself. They loved her and they’d be there for her when he was gone. The kindest thing he could do for her was not allow either of them to get used to him being by her side.
Even if that was where he belonged.
“Ilya, why are you sitting here with me?” Mikayla questioned him from where she sat with her friend Deidre, on the chairs across from him. “Dr. Ron assured me Nik is going to be fine. It’s just that it seems that’s his favorite arm to break and the surgeon wants to make certain it heals properly.” She grinned mischievously. “He keeps telling Nik he’s getting too old for shenanigans that break bones. I think Nik’s trying to prove otherwise.”
“I should have been there, not him,” he growled, hating the fact that he hadn’t been the one to protect Emma Jane.
He was a stupid, possessive bastard, he thought, because who saved her shouldn’t matter. She was fine, unharmed, just a few bruises.
