by Celeste Raye
"If he does, then he is a foolish man. You handled this well. Without you, this could have ended badly. I do not think he would have survived Maxxus's anger. They would have clashed, and the loser would have been your director. Will you join me for that drink? I have spent the last month with three men on an oil rig far out in the ocean. I would enjoy some female companionship, a stiff drink, and some music. My friends taught me how to dance a little. I was going out tonight anyway. See, I have cowboy boots. My hat is in the locker room with my wallet. What else could you accomplish tonight?"
"Nothing. I'll have to call in and give the director an update. He's going to argue that I wasn't tough enough and he'll want me to push for more answers. I can appease him by saying I intend to spend time with you later tonight. He won't know it's for fun. I'm not dressed appropriately either, but I have my belongings in the car outside."
"What if tomorrow he asks for the information you supposedly were grilling me for?" Blayze questioned.
"I'll say you're a hard case, stubborn and tight-lipped. Then, I'll tell him I forced the truth out of you, and you're innocent of everything. Frankly, I don't think he'll even ask once he hears how angry Maxxus is over your people being watched. He'll have too much explaining to do to his superiors. Is there somewhere here I can change? I would ask the receptionist, but she doesn't like me very much."
"She takes her job very seriously. You can change in the locker room. I will show you where. Let us get your luggage."
"You don't have to come," Belle protested. "I can carry it."
"I do not doubt it. My offer was more about getting you back inside, past the gatekeeper. She may shoot you this time," he teased.
"Good thinking. I have a gun too, and we wouldn't want to have a shootout in the front lobby." Laughter continued as they retrieved the bag she needed and made it back in safely. The scary receptionist was nowhere to be found. Belle's driver was ordered to drop off the rest of her possessions at the hotel, where accommodations had been made by the agency.
Blayze was shocked to see the transformation in Belle. Her red waves spilled all the way to her waist. Her eyes were accentuated by the green tank top that matched them perfectly and hugged her body, revealing the curves her black jacket had hidden. The jeans, ripped in all the right places, were practically painted on. She looked so tasty, his mouth watered.
"Wow," he could not help saying. "You clean up good. That's how the guys I work with would phrase it."
Belle grinned at his misuse of the phrase. "Actually, they would say that if I changed from this to the suit. Dressing fancy is what is referred to as cleaning up."
"They would be dead wrong. I like this look much better." His eyes matched his name. They were blazing.
"You don't look too shabby either. The hat suits you." She was afraid to add how much she liked the way his jeans clung to those muscular thighs and his perfect backside. She really didn't care whether he could dance or not and the stiff drink wasn't needed any longer. He was intoxicating enough.
"Times awastin', pretty lady," he replied, sounding like a true Texan, accent and all.
"Your companions have rubbed off on you. Maxxus would be appalled!" Belle joked.
"No need to worry, ma'am. What he don't know won't hurt him. Did I say it right?" Blayze asked quite seriously.
"Perfect, cowboy. Let's head'em up and move'em out." she replied with a giggle.
The bar was crowded, and the dance floor was small, but it didn't matter. The music was loud and lively, and the drinks were strong. It was an excellent spot to forget their troubles and have a good time. Blayze did not care for the men's interested looks coming Belle's way. He put a possessive hand on her lower back and steel in his gaze, daring anyone to come near at their own risk.
One drink gone and it was off to the dance floor. Blayze recognized the song and the dance moves with relief. His friends had taught him this one first. It was simple and repetitive. Belle seemed to know it too. They jumped right in, their boots echoing off the wood floor along with everyone else's. The next one was a whole other story. He did not know it and tried to leave the floor. Belle tugged on his hand and begged, "Please, I love "Cotton-Eyed-Joe." I can teach you. It's simple." Unable to resist those sparkling eyes, he complied. A few stumbles later, he had the hang of it and shared her enthusiasm.
By the time they left the floor, sweat was dripping down their happy faces, and their worries had vanished. Another drink was ordered, and Belle showed him how to make a toast. Just as their glasses clinked, someone bumped Belle from behind, and the whiskey spilled all over them as her soft chest slammed into Blayze's hard one.
The crowd and its sounds disappeared. Only the two of them existed, in a world all their own. Cautiously, Blayze lowered his head and raised a hand to settle on her neck. He fully expected her to pull away. Instead, her eyes slowly drifted shut, and her pink lips parted slightly. More courageous now, he allowed his lips to brush over hers. It was like an electric shock to his system. Her soft whimper and her body swaying closer enticed Blayze to go further. He gave her a real kiss, and his heart began to pound against his chest. Growing braver as she offered no protest, he wrapped his other arm around her and let his tongue sweep over her now swollen lips. She opened her mouth further, meeting his tongue with hers. They were lost. Blayze slipped his hand down past her waist, cupping her rounded bottom. Hers slid inside his shirt, flattening over his heart. "Come home with me," he said against her mouth. "I want more of you."
Belle wanted to say yes more than anything. This was how attraction should feel: steamy and uncontrollable. She'd never felt it this way before. But, reality kicked in. She didn't know Blayze, not really. One-night stands weren't for her. It was her job and duty to prove his innocence. It was up to her to keep the weredragons from taking the blame for something they didn't do. No matter how good it felt, she couldn't do this. "I can't Blayze. I'm so sorry. This was a mistake. I want you, really, I do. But, it's bad timing. Thank you for a great night. I'll be in touch."
She ran, and he did not stop her.
4
Blayze
In the shadows outside the bar, four figures hid from view. They were growing tired of waiting, anxious to do the job they had been hired for. The youngest, a new recruit, couldn't hold his silence any longer. He whispered, "Why do these places still exist? Why would anyone want to go in there? I mean, think about it. You can go anywhere or do anything from your own home with the virtual reality tech we have. Why dress up like a cowboy from the past and get all sweaty when you don't have to? What a waste."
"Not everyone wants to stick their head in a game and pretend, kid. Try a little reality: live. You might like it. Now, shut up before someone sees us. Look, the woman's leaving and she's in a hurry. Get ready. This isn't going to be easy," his companion replied.
The kid drew a syringe from his jacket pocket. It was filled with a strong sedative: strong enough to bring down a large animal.
Blayze walked out of the bar searching for Belle. He understood her confusion and had wanted to give her a moment to regain her composure, but he did not care for the idea of her being out here alone this late. He would take her to the hotel and apologize for his actions. She was nowhere in sight.
A tingle ran up his spine, one he had not felt in a while. It was a warning that danger lurked in the night. Afraid for Belle, he took no precautions for himself. Who in their right mind would mug a weredragon? Even if they thought he was human, he was a large, muscular opponent. When arms grabbed him, ones almost as large as his own, he realized he was outnumbered three to one. He tried to transform out of desperation. His skin shimmered, turning burnt-orange, but he ran out of time. A huge needle was jabbed through the thick scales and into his neck. The streetlight blurred, his world spun, and he collapsed, reverting to man's form.
Vague images appeared as he was dragged into the alley. Fingers dug into his arms and legs as he was lifted into a vehicle. He could feel the rumble beneath his
paralyzed body. In limbo, somewhere between the conscious and unconscious world, he tried to fight against the sedative and the men. His body betrayed him. Nothing moved when he asked it to. Even his eyes held one position. Unless an object came into range, he could not see it. When they did, everything was blurred. He would not be able to identify his captors. The only advantage he had was that they did not know he was awake. Parts of their conversation drifted past the fog in his brain.
"Check his prints. We have to be certain we got the right one. The big man would have our heads, literally, if we brought the wrong guy."
"It's him. I've seen him getting off the copter from the rig. He's the last on this week’s list. They got the two in Russia, the two in Kuwait. It's amazing how stupid the world is, letting fire-breathing creatures work on oil rigs. Well, they're about to learn their lesson."
"Did they place the one at the Chinese stock market?"
"He's locked and loaded, waiting for the code to set him off."
"Aren't you worried about dying from the biologic? We could get contaminated if one of these weredragons so much as spit on us when we return them to society."
"Nope. They're too drugged up and brainwashed for that. That tiny piece of tech that's stuck in their head keeps them tame until the code is entered. Then, nothing survives. I'm more scared of whoever's in charge. We know way too much, and that makes us a danger to him. I'll be leaving for parts unknown real soon. You all should be too."
"There's nowhere to hide, man. If he wants us dead, we will be."
Silence fell after that revelation. Blayze fought to understand what he had heard, but his mind was so doped up, the words tangled and swirled making no sense. He gave in to the sedative.
Bright lights hurt Blayze's eyes. He could not turn away from them to ease the pain. His body still remained frozen, refusing to obey commands. Blurred green shapes surrounded him, leaning over and prying open his mouth. He smelled antiseptics that burned his nose and the metallic scent of blood.
"His eyes are open," a gruff voice said. A sharp pain in his neck sent him off to slumber.
Every time Blayze became slightly conscious, he could hear the same words buzzing in his head. "Your life is mine to command. You owe your loyalty to me. Only I can save you. You will obey me and obliterate the enemy. Your work companions wish you dead. Destroy them, or they will destroy you." Over and over it repeated. The refrain became a mantra, then a fact embedded in his subconscious.
Time held no meaning. He could have been locked away for hours or months. Never fully awake, he did not see faces or register what any room looked like. Everyone was careful to never mention a name or location. Most of the time, the only voice he heard was the one in his head.
Belle
"How could I have let things go so far?" Belle kept asking herself. A virtual stranger had come very close to seducing her, and she'd wanted him to. She still did. She considered looking up his residence. It would be a simple touch on a computer key. Would he welcome her or laugh in her face? He would have every right to be angry, as she'd be using the unfair tracking to find him. How badly did she want him? Apparently, bad enough to give in to temptation. Her finger hovered over the computer key, then, closing her eyes she pressed it.
Blayze lived in a small efficiency apartment in an old part of the city. The brick building was painted a garish yellow that held no appeal or style. The hallways were dark and narrow, but clean. How could he stand it? It was Belle's understanding that weredragons lived in high places, close to the sky. They hated small enclosures because they weren't able to transform without space. She understood his choice once she reached the door. His home was on the top floor with access to the roof. She would bet he spent most of his time under the stars.
For an old building, with nothing to proclaim it as part of the modern world, all the new tech had been installed. Belle's thumb swept over the flat panel that would send an image of her face to the monitor inside, telling Blayze who was at his door. She smiled in hopes of getting him to answer. He didn't. She tried twice more. Nothing happened. She was turning away in defeat when a neighbor popped her head out of the apartment across the hall.
"Oh, hi. I thought you were Blayze finally coming home. I have his mail. He always has me keep it while he's on the rig. It's usually just ads and useless stuff, but he likes to see it. I think it makes him feel human. I'd rather be a weredragon. Funny, how we want to be anything except ourselves. Sorry, I didn't mean to tell you so much. I just get lonely working from home and Blayze being gone."
"That's okay. I don't mind," Belle said in her friendliest voice. She wanted information and being kind usually got her what she was after. "When did Blayze leave? I suppose he got home too late last night to pick up his mail."
"He's been gone for a month, like always. He hasn't come home yet. We have an agreement. No matter how late he gets here, he's supposed to wake me up. I don't sleep much anyway, and I feel better knowing he's back. He's kind of like a protective watchdog."
"I saw him last night. He's off the rig. We went line dancing. Are you sure he's not here? Maybe he asked you to tell me he wasn't in," Belle replied.
"No, I swear he's not here. He'd never hide from you or anyone, and he wouldn't ask me to lie. He hates people that don't tell the truth. It's a thing with him. He probably partied too hard and hung out at the liaison center. Try there."
Belle didn't think so, but she'd check just in case. "If I give you my COM link info, will you let me know when he gets here? I might miss him at the center. He might have gone out to eat or something."
"Sure, I can do that. Don't look so worried. Trust me, Blayze can take care of himself."
The same receptionist was at the desk when Belle arrived at the center. Neither woman was happy to see the other.
"Not you again," the receptionist exclaimed. "Listen, I had enough of an ass kicking from my boss yesterday for being rude to the CIA. Don't cause me trouble. I just want to finish this week's shift and go home. Blayze isn't here. You should know since the video logs show he left with you."
"They don't show him returning?" Belle asked.
"Of course not. Why would they? He doesn't come here unless it's a necessity. I wouldn't either, despite the amenities. He could live here in luxury, yet he chooses freedom. It makes me tingle with pride."
It had been a long shot. Belle had gotten the same impression of Blayze's attitude, especially since he'd learned his movements were tracked. "I left my uniform in the locker room," she told the receptionist. "Can I go get it or do you think I'll do something you don't like?"
"Go wherever you please. It's nothing to me. There are no weredragons here to protect today. There seldom is. As long as I get paid, who gives a crap?"
So much for our tax dollars buying the best employees, Belle thought. She hurried to the locker room and grabbed the wrinkled uniform. She'd drop it at a cleaning station and pick it up on the way back to the hotel. As long as she was inside the liaison center, she'd take a quick look around. She actually believed the receptionist, but maybe she'd find a clue as to where Blayze had gone.
Empty lockers hung open showing their shiny, clean interiors. The closed ones had names over the lock controls. Fingerprints were required to open them; only the programmed owners would work. She found Blayze's name, but his locker was open and empty. It had been recently cleaned by the staff; not a smudge remained. Opening every unlocked door, and there were a lot, she found nothing.
Without a clue where to go next, she exited the building. An idea struck just as her COM link sounded. In frustration, she answered. "Good morning, sir. What can I do for you today?"
"You sound awfully cheerful for someone who's on my shit list. Somehow, you managed to tell the Talonians more than they told you! Some of it was classified. Who gave you permission? It certainly wasn't me," the director yelled.
"You told me to ease information out of the weredragon and soften the blow on the king. I had to give him facts in ord
er to do that. You never said he couldn't be told. It's only fair that they know what they're being accused of," Belle argued.
"Not anymore. From now on, Maxxus is to be told nothing. We have intelligence reports that say dragon fire spread the biologic. Both of the dead weredragons are being taken apart and inspected as we speak. I told you they were responsible. We also have reason to believe the Chinese stock exchange is targeted. Why, we're not sure. I think they want to screw up the economy. There's more, rumors only, that claim the oil rigs are in jeopardy."
"I spoke with Maxxus, and he was truly surprised by the news. I'm a great judge of character. He had no idea any of this had happened. His focus is on rebuilding Talonia and caring for his new son. The weredragons have no motive to harm us," Belle stated emphatically.
"Yes, they do. What if their planet isn't recovering as they claim? They would need a place to go, a refuge. They wouldn't want to be under another government. They would want Maxxus to rule. So, bring down Earth's government and economy, then take over. It's a masterful plan."
"It's a ridiculous theory. First of all, the humans who went there to help are back. They have told us how well Talonia is recovering. They brought videos to prove it. Second, and most important, the weredragons need their planet. You know what was discovered; the Talonians and their planet feed off each other. Earth couldn't give them that. Besides, they've never shown aggression toward us. For goodness sake, they saved us from the Xycon," Belle argued.
"In doing so, they saw Earth for themselves. They now know how wonderful it is. They may have saved it for their own use. The pictures could be fake and the space crew could either be involved in the plot or brainwashed to believe Talonia was healing. Don't you see? They've even made infusions that allow their kind to stay here longer. Who's the naive one now?" the director asked.
