Dragon's Treasure (BBW/Dragon Shifter Romance) (Lords of the Dragon Islands Book 1)

by Isadora Montrose

  His original plan had been to take out Leskov, drive his corpse into the desert and lose it in one of the many dry ravines of the ruined Uzbekistan mountains. Then he had intended to shave his head and mustache to match his spare identity papers. He had expected to hike out of the mountains as a peasant and eventually make his way to back to Tashkent.

  The US embassy was in Tashkent. So Tashkent was his destination. Even if there were good odds the Russians would start their search there. He hoped someone at the embassy was still expecting Jack Enright. Although after eighteen months without communication, they probably assumed he was dead.

  He did not know if Alyokin and Dobronravov were aware Leskov was a shifter. He thought not, but he had been chewing on that one for so many months that he had long since decided to plan as if they did, while making sure he acted as if they didn’t. Business as usual for a shifter. Equally he could not know if Moscow knew Leskov was a shifter.

  Obviously the dead tiger could not be left behind while he drove away in the truck. And in his present condition he could not hoist eight hundred pounds of dead weight into the truck. Besides, in his human form, without medical attention, he was a dead man walking.

  Leskov’s cargo contained several kilos of plastic explosive for sale to the Kyrgyzs. Jack rolled the limp weight of the tiger under the truck and set to work wiring the explosives around and under it, connecting them in relays to the truck. He poured gasoline from their backup containers over the tiger and soaked the interior of the truck. He moved as rapidly as his wounds permitted, but it took three hours to set the charges, but by God he set them by the book. The US Marine Common Skills Handbook, not the mob book.

  Jack drank more water and tried to eat despite his nausea. Nothing doing. So he climbed painfully up the hills until he was half a mile away and tucked into a crack in the rock facing away from the truck. He pressed the button on the radio control. The explosion turned Leskov, his arsenal, and the five hundred kilos of heroin he was taking to Kyrgyzstan into bite-sized flaming shrapnel.

  Jack waited in his niche until even the ashes had settled before reconnoitering. The blast had brought no one. Not even a peasant. There was no sign of Leskov’s men. They were incommunicado in the high desert where cell phones didn’t work. Likely they were still unaware that Leskov was missing. Maybe they had an ambush to distract them.

  Backtracking and finding the turnoff would take daylight and skill. It would be dark before they knew they had looking to do. Leskov’s men were tough and ruthless, but they were impatient city boys and couldn’t track worth spit. If they got lucky and located the debris field, there was a sporting chance that they would think both he and Leskov were dead and waste time looking for attackers.

  The sun was getting low and the hot gritty wind of the June day was giving way to a harsh gale that whipped the moisture from Jack’s body and iced his flesh through his sweat soaked clothing. The tremors in his body were getting worse, and twice he thought he had blacked out. He had to get moving. As he walked, he followed procedure.

  He field-stripped his gun, to ensure it didn’t betray his route and didn’t put a weapon in enemy hands. He threw the parts down rocky crevasses so deep he barely heard them land. He broke apart the radio that had triggered the fuse and discarded it the same way. He deposited his ammo just as prudently in widely separated fissures.

  Brushing out his footprints slowed his progress even more. His half-assed efforts wouldn’t fool an expert tracker, but he hadn’t time to do better. And his pursuers weren’t experts. At last he came to the boulders that made up the bank of the Pskem River. He stripped and folded his blood stained and sweat soaked clothing and buried it under a pile of rocks. He put his money belt and armored vest in separate cairns.

  He waded into the freezing river. The four slashes across his stomach were deep and had opened up again while he was lifting rocks. He removed his bandages. He let the rushing water wash the blood away and whirl the gory strips downstream. Then, ignoring the pain, he shifted and became a Black bear.

  The bear swam upstream against the current for about a mile until his strength was exhausted. The icy water had slowed the bleeding to a trickle, and the wounds had closed themselves. But Jack knew his bear was also at the limits of endurance. He had to rest. He had to find food. And he had to find hidden shelter in case Leskov’s men did manage to track him. He left the river and moved up into the hills of the Pskem Mountain Range.

  As he meandered about looking for food and shelter, the night sky darkened and snow began to fall, gradually turning into an unexpected, late spring blizzard. Good. The snow would conceal the truck’s tracks and the debris field. When it melted the run off would scour the slopes and destroy his spoor. With luck Leskov’s men would never find him or the blast site.

  Leskov’s open scorn for his subordinates had earned him fear not loyalty. If they had survived the ambush--or if there had never been one--they might just be dumb enough and greedy enough to abort any search to try to cut a private deal with the Kyrgyzstan mob for the residue of the arms. With Leskov gone they might even fight for leadership. Whatever they did, Moscow would not be happy. And Moscow would search for Mihaly Leskov and Kirill Kovolenko and the rest of Leskov’s squad. No one screwed the Boss of Bosses.

  Jack made his slow way up the rocky cliffs in the dark following the scent of mountain sheep along the narrow trails. The snow continued to fall. He could no longer feel his paws. He stumbled, fell, and rolled sideways down a slope before he was stopped by a cluster of stubby bushes growing out of the cliff. Right in front of him was an opening just wide enough for him to enter.

  He shambled weakly into the cave. He found the low passage ended blindly about three yards in. He turned so he could sleep with rock at his back and his head facing the opening. As soon as he lay down he fell into a deep stupor before he had even licked his wounds. In his delirious nightmares, Leskov’s tiger stalked him thorough the verdant forests of Washington State.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “I GOTTA SAY, I love what you’ve done with this place,” Winnie Malcom said leaning back against the big plaid cushions of Hannah’s new couch. Its wooden frame and seven foot length matched the 1930’s Craftsman style house Hannah had taken possession of two weeks before.

  Winnie looked around approvingly at the mellow woodwork and golden walls. Her broad shoulders and strong arms filled out the paint spattered denim of her shirt. Her short grizzled hair was speckled with yellow. Having found Hannah her new home she felt triumphant at its suitability. That uptight condo was no place for a bear.

  Her partner Jools finished her mouthful of pizza and patted her lips with a napkin. “This color is perfect.” She looked at the honey colored walls with satisfaction. “Am I good or what?” Her brown eyes sparkled with good nature. Her salt and pepper curls were also speckled with yellow, and a streak of honey colored paint mottled one flushed cheek.

  When they had first met and mated, long before same sex marriages were legal, Winifred Mallett and Juliet Bascom had decided to merge their two surnames. They had changed their names by deed poll to Malcom, given this surname to their five children, and never looked back.

  Hannah laughed happily and leaned forward to top up their wine glasses. How she loved these big, cheerful good-hearted women. From her first bear shift two years ago, when they had found her lost and disoriented in the woods, they had swept her into their big arms and bigger hearts. They had made her part of their lives and their bear clan. For the first time in her life she had a family.

  A big gangling teenager with Jools’ almond shaped brown eyes came clattering down the uncarpeted wooden stairs, placing one enormous hand on the square newel post. He leaped the last three steps to land on size twelve sneakers. He joined Winnie on the couch and reached for a slice of pizza. She slapped his hand. “Did you clean up before you came down?” she demanded.

  The boy hesitated. “I closed the tins and put the roller in a bag, Ma,” he said.

&n
bsp; “Go wash your hands, Jacob,” Jools said firmly.

  Jacob grimaced but he jumped up immediately, “Leave some for me,” he said as he made for the kitchen.

  Hannah sighed happily and took a sip of her wine. “I really appreciate the trips helping out,” she said.

  Winnie snorted. “You’re paying them,” she said. “Besides you’re family. Gabby and Art have promised to turn up on Saturday and Sunday, and Caleb and Gwen should be free too. We’ll get it all done this weekend.”

  “Cool,” said Hannah. “But only if they want to. The trips have spent every evening after work painting this week. I really appreciate it, but they must have other plans. The bedrooms look great, the bathroom is nearly finished and Caleb made a start on the hallway before he went to soccer practice.”

  Jacob came back into the room carrying a glass of pop. He flung himself down on the couch and the pop lurched about in his glass. Winnie put a steadying hand on his shoulder. “Have some pizza, son,” she said in her deep, calm voice.

  “I can finish the hall tomorrow,” Jacob said reaching for the pizza. “You sure you don’t want us to paint the master bedroom too?”

  Hannah shook her head. “I’m going to leave it white to go with my stuff.”

  Jools frowned slightly and her plump, pleasant features looked disapproving for a moment. “I think you should paint it the same color as the rest of the house. You’d get better flow,” she advised. She left unsaid that replicating Hannah’s condo bedroom would undo the good of selling it and moving to Bothell.

  Winnie had no such qualms. She shook her grizzled head, “Paint it a nice warm color,” she said. “Sell that froufrou white stuff and hang some drapes that don’t have memories woven right in.” She looked around with approval at the mellow amber woodwork of the highly varnished baseboards and doors. “You can get a bed to go with this couch.” She patted the cushions approvingly.

  Hannah looked a little sheepish. “But my bedroom was the only thing I liked about my old place,” she protested.

  Jacob laughed. “The Moms are right,” he said around a mouthful of pizza. “Your bedroom’s all wrong for a bear. You’re not going to catch a mate with that pink and white look. You need some more of this Malcom tartan. And a big, sturdy bed.”

  “Jacob Morris Malcom,” said Jools sternly to the fifteen year old. “Watch your mouth.”

  “What?” asked Jacob. “Hannah doesn’t know she needs a mate? Or she didn’t know this couch was Malcom tartan?”

  Hannah laughed uncertainly. “I appreciate the advice,” she told Jacob, “But for now I will just stick to getting settled in the house. There’s a lot to do in an old house.”

  “Anything in particular?” asked Winnie.

  “I was thinking that now that I have a gigantic kitchen I can get a humongous table and lots of chairs. I can pay you back and have the Malcom Thanksgiving here,” she offered.

  “No,” said Winnie and Jools with one voice and one expression. Their twenty year relationship was suddenly engraved on their very different faces.

  Jools smiled kindly at Hannah’s hurt face. “You can have us all to dinner when you find a nice table,” she said, “As often as you like. But all holidays are at the Mama Bears’ house. For the foreseeable future you get to bring pie and your garlic mashed potatoes and do the dishes afterwards.”

  Hannah’s brown eyes filled with tears. She sniffed. “How’d I get so lucky to find you, guys?” she asked.

  Jacob smirked. “They found you bear naked in the woods. Can I have this last piece?”

  Hannah threw a cushion at him.

  * * *

  “I thought you’d be pleased,” Hannah said. “You’re always telling me that I need a mate and to get out there and look.”

  “We didn’t mean join the mating frenzy at the Sanctuary,” said Jools crossly. “We meant, let us set you up with a nice bear from a good family. Or join bearmate.com.”

  “And I’ve been on half a dozen blind dates and none of them have worked. I’ve tried, you know I have. But nothing. I want a family,” she said pleadingly. “I figured if my heat is as intense as you say it will be, maybe I’ll find a mate at the Sanctuary.”

  Winnie and Jools looked at each other and Winnie moved to sit beside Hannah. She put one long arm around the younger woman. “Honey you know we love you. You are the daughter of our hearts, and we want you to be happy.

  “Sure, shifters meet at the Sanctuary and get mated and live happily ever after. But mostly it’s like Spring Break, lots of hook ups, not a lot of commitment. We don’t want to see you hurt again, honey.

  “It’s only natural to want to start a family. It’s innate in your bear. But you’re only twenty-eight, you have lots of time.”

  “It’s not the easiest thing in the world to be a single parent,” Jools chipped in severely. “And it’s not easier with twins or trips. Singletons are mighty rare amongst shifters. You wait until you’ve got a mate.”

  “You’re the ones who told me I had to prepare to come into season,” protested Hannah.

  “We didn’t mean go flaunt your heat in front of every low down bachelor boar in the Northwest,” Winnie said in her deepest Mama Bear growl.

  “Well, it isn’t even a certainty that I’ll go into heat this year,” Hannah said placatingly. “I didn’t last year.”

  Jools laughed her deep chuckling laugh. She slapped her knees and buffeted Winnie on her broad shoulder. Winnie started to laugh too.

  “I don’t see what’s so funny,” grumbled Hannah.

  “This year for sure,” said Winnie in her kindest voice, trying hard to stop chortling.

  “How do you know?”

  “We can smell your heat coming on,” said Jools and Winnie in unison. “Girl, every time we see you, you smell more delicious. Even the boys have noticed.”

  Hannah blushed. She thought of Art, Caleb and Jacob as brothers. Had they really been smelling her and commenting to their mothers?

  “How come I didn’t last year?”

  “We think your bear was a little young. Mostly shifters have their first shifts when they are teenagers. And then two to three years later, their first heats, if they’re female. We figure you lacked the normal environmental triggers from your mother’s breast milk and sweat. So your bear was latent until you had sex with a shifter,” Winnie explained. “No way to be sure really, with you not knowing anything about your birth family.”

  “Twenty-six is late for first shift. But now you’re coming into your first heat, two years after first shift. It’s right on time. And you gotta prepare for it,” Jools added.

  “I’m on the pill,” Hannah blurted.

  “As if,” snorted Jools. “Nothing will override your inner sow in mating season. If you have sex with a bear when you’re in heat, you’ll catch for sure.”

  “What Jools is trying to say,” said Winnie glaring at her partner, “Is that you have to stay away from boar bears when you’re in heat, unless you want to get pregnant.”

  “Well, I do,” said Hannah stubbornly.

  “Wait till you find a mate,” said Winnie just as stubbornly.

  Hannah shook her head and set her long black curls bouncing. “I just don’t seem to be that interested in sex anymore. Are you sure Jack wasn’t my mate? Because it sure feels like he was.” Her big brown eyes filled with helpless tears as she thought of her erstwhile lover. If only she had known she was a shifter when she met him, she might have been prepared for the emotional ruckus of being mated and abandoned.

  Winnie gathered Hannah against her large bosom. “Ah honey,” she said, patting the younger woman on the back. “If you go into shifter bars, you’re gonna get your heart broken.”

  “But why can’t I move on?” Hannah sobbed. She blotted her tears on Winnie’s shoulder and sniffed. “It’s been over two years and I still dream about him. I don’t want to have sex with anyone else.”

  Jools hovered over them both uncertain what to say, they had been down
this road many times since the rainy day they had discovered a half-grown cub stumbling around their campsite. “I think your feelings are just real intense because he triggered your shift,” she finally said.

  “But if you were truly mated he’d have stuck. That’s just how shifter mating dynamics work. Once you’re mated it’s forever. So either he’s dead or he wasn’t the one. Either way you gotta move on, girl.”

  “Bachelor boar bears are boors,” Winnie told her. “Fucking boors. You’ve been done by a bachelor boor. No point in dwelling on it. He’s not the one. He was just your trigger.”

  “You should go back to the Trap and troll for bear. You’ll see. One boar there is much like another,” Jools advised her.

  “Juliet Malcom.” Winnie was shocked.

  Hannah sighed. “Want to know the most ironic thing?” she asked.

  “What?” said Jools obligingly.

  “I went to the wrong bar!”

  “Not The Bear Trap?”

  “Charlene wanted to meet me at The B-e-e-r Trap, which is clear over in Pioneer Square. Cabbie must have heard me wrong. He took me into Belltown.” Hannah sighed and took a pull of her beer. “If it hadn’t been raining I’d have noticed.”

  “And you might have gone through life wondering why you never met anyone who turned your crank,” said Jools firmly. “Getting triggered was the best thing that ever happened to you, Han. And don’t you forget it. Coming into your true nature is a cause for celebration.”

  “You got that right,” said Winnie.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  JACK CLIMBED INTO HIS rental SUV and drove away from the Pentagon. He looked at the clock on the dash and wondered if he would make Dulles in time to make the 15:15 flight to Seattle. He was booked on the 16:15 but he was eager to be on his way. It had taken him eleven long months to get this close to home.