Kings of the Fire Box Set

by Lily Cahill

  And that was in NYC! Surely it would be even easier in Augustus.

  “I’m Ramona Jones.” Her voice interrupted his thoughts again and turned his attention back to the stage. She gripped the microphone standing and readjusted it to her height, smiling out at the crowd as she did so.

  There was something alluring about that smile—it was just the slightest bit wicked, like she knew everyone’s secrets just by looking at them.

  “This is Willie on guitar, and Jake on drums. We’re going to play you a few songs tonight, if that’s all right with all of you.”

  The roar from the bar was incredible.

  “This is called ‘The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face.’”

  The guitarist strummed the opening chord, the drummer picking up and setting a slow, steady beat. And then Ramona began to sing.

  If Blayze had been attracted to Ramona before, it was nothing compared to when she opened her mouth and that heavenly voice began to pour past her lips.

  Her voice was smoky and old-fashioned, the kind that deserved to be in a jazz club in 1930s and played on old records. It looked so effortless, like all she had to do was stand there and she was able to bare her whole soul to the audience. Blayze felt mesmerized by her, unable to pick his jaw up off the floor and function because everything she was doing was so amazing, incredible, sexy.

  And the song. He could almost relate. He didn’t think he’d ever forget the first time he saw Ramona Jones’ face.

  He had to meet her.

  The set lasted an hour, during which time he bought his brothers another round and ignored all of their jibes about his sudden inability to pay attention to anything other than the stage. It didn’t matter what they thought. Blayze had been with plenty of women, but he’d never felt so possessed by someone’s beauty before.

  Ramona finished the final note on “Autumn Leaves,” letting it linger before it got swallowed by the noise of the crowd. Every person was cheering. She had the kind of presence that was magnetic. It attracted every eye in the room and held them.

  How was she not famous? And why was she stuck in Augustus?

  “I’m going to close out my tab,” Vin said, interrupting Blayze’s train of thought.

  It was nearing one in the morning—late for a town like this. Arryn was slurring his words and leaning heavily on Blayze’s arm, thanking him again and again for coming all the way down from New York. It was probably a good idea to quit now before he ended up having to take care of his brother all night.

  He had other things he was planning to do tonight. Or, well, other people.

  “I’ll come with,” he said, propping Arryn up in the booth and sliding out to head toward the bar. The crowd seemed to part as he and Vincent walked by; their notoriety followed them around every town, it seemed. Blayze preened under the attention. He liked knowing that every eye was on him.

  He and Vincent approached the bar, and then another person popped in next to Blayze at the open space. He turned to frown at them—couldn’t they wait like everyone else seemed to be keen on doing?—until he saw who it was.

  Ramona.

  “Water, please.” She leaned against the bar and smiled at the bartender, who quickly gave her a glass of ice water. Her arm brushed his as she picked up the glass, and Blayze felt the contact like an electric shock.

  She didn’t seem to notice, however. That seemed—practically impossible.

  Ramona took a sip of the water, sighing as it hit her throat. “Thanks, Billy.”

  “No problem,” Billy replied. “That was a real nice—“

  “I could get you something more refreshing, if you want,” Blayze interrupted. He turned, a bit of a smirk on his face. All women liked a cocky bad boy, right? “What’s your drink of choice? Margarita? Sea breeze?”

  Ramona raised her eyebrows at him, looking thoroughly unimpressed. “Water’s fine, thanks.” She turned back to Billy the bartender. “And thanks for the compliment. See you next week?”

  Had she just—dismissed him? Blayze blinked in surprise. Sure, he didn’t have a 100% success rate with the ladies—no one did—but he rarely had a woman just ignore him out of hand. He watched her move away from the bar and heading to the other end of the room, sitting down at a table with the guitarist and drummer from the gig.

  Vincent touched Blayze’s arm, bringing him back to himself.

  “Come on, man,” Vincent said. “Pay your tab. Don’t be an asshole.”

  Blayze turned back to the bartender. “Put a margarita on here, and then close me out, okay?”

  Vincent sighed audibly. “Please don’t do this. It’s Arryn’s birthday.”

  “Yeah, and he’s mostly out of it.” Blayze looked back at his youngest brother, who was drunkenly chatting with someone standing near the table. “Just take him back home, get some water in him, and let him sleep it off. He’ll be fine.”

  “You’re seriously going to leave me with all of this?”

  “You’re the responsible one, Vin,” Blayze said as the bartender pushed a margarita and a receipt at him. He scrawled his signature quickly. “I’m the one who gets laid.”

  With his fingers around the stem of the glass, he turned and made his way over to the table where Ramona was sitting. The conversation died off as he approached, and Ramona looked up at him, an unimpressed look on her face.

  “Can I help you?”

  “I thought that after all the hard work you did up there on stage, you could seriously use one of these.”

  He placed the margarita in front of her. Ramona glanced down at it, and then back up at him.

  The man next to her—Willie, maybe? Blayze couldn’t remember—snorted.

  “We were up there, too, you know,” he said, motioning to the drummer. “Where are our margaritas?”

  “Like it’s hard work accompanying her.” Blayze smiled, and the two men burst into laughter.

  The same man elbowed Ramona. “Oh, you better watch this one, Mona. He thinks he’s smooth.”

  “Thinks being the operative word in that sentence,” Ramona said, her eyes never leaving Blayze’s.

  Obviously, the usual tactics weren’t going to work for this girl. She wasn’t going to be impressed with a drink, or with a few lines. She was smart. Now that he was closer, those big brown eye seemed to be analyzing him. For weeks, he’d been under scrutiny at a national level. This was just one girl in a bar, and yet it felt so much more intense.

  Blayze straightened his shoulders.

  “It’s crazy that someone as talented as you is stuck in Augustus,” he said, changing the subject. “I know a few people in New York City who might be able to help you go a bit further in your career.”

  That wasn’t strictly true—he hadn’t made that many influential friends. Yet. But he definitely knew people who knew people, and if all else failed, his near-sister-in-law was practically queen of the goddamn magical world. That had to count for something, didn’t it?

  A smile appeared on Ramona’s face, but like the one she’d flashed onstage, it seemed more knowing than inviting. She looked at Blayze like she’d not only already figured out everything he was going to say, but also all of her own responses.

  He’d never before met a girl who made him feel so unsure of himself. He wasn’t sure he liked it. Blayze was sure he liked Ramona, though—her face and her body, at least, and that was enough for now. He wasn’t looking for anything more than a night with someone, anyway.

  “Tell me, Mr. Dragomir,” Ramona said, a bit of a laugh in her voice. Blayze wasn’t sure why the fact that she knew who he was unnerved him so much. He liked being recognized, usually. “What do you know about my career?”

  He shrugged and sank down into the remaining empty seat uninvited. Standing over the three of them was making him feel awkward, and that was an emotion Blayze never felt.

  “I know you could have one, as a singer.”

  “Oh?” She quirked a dark brow. “How do you know that?”

  “I hav
e ears, and they function correctly.”

  Ramona’s smile was a little gentler, then. Blayze felt a flare of triumph within him.

  She shook her head and pushed the margarita to him. “I almost believed that, for a second. But what you’ve failed to realize is that if I were as interested in being a singer as you seem to think I am, I wouldn’t be refusing your advances right now. I would be absolutely be interested in using your current fame and your name to my advantage, to get what I want. And I’m not. So, tell me. What does that mean about my career?”

  Blayze stared. He was gaping, but he couldn’t help it. This girl was an enigma, a puzzle—she’d presented him with a riddle, and he had no idea how to solve it.

  “I,” he started, unable to finish. “I…don’t really know.”

  “It means that I have a career, and singing isn’t it.” She stood gracefully and patted Blayze’s cheek. The two men followed her as she began to walk away from the table, calling back over her shoulder, “Thanks for the drink.”

  Blayze sat, staring at the untouched margarita.

  He’d never had a girl outsmart him like that before. This Ramona Jones was more than he’d expected—she was a pretty face, sure, but she was…different. He had to know more, had to figure her out.

  Maybe one more day in Augustus wouldn’t hurt.

  Chapter Two

  Ramona

  RAMONA OPENED PANDORA INVESTIGATIONS AT 10 AM promptly, as she had every Monday through Friday for the past four years.

  She unlocked the front door and switched on all the lights. She booted up her computer. She brewed a pot of coffee and poured herself a mug. A sip revealed it wasn’t all that good, but that wasn’t surprising. She was pretty sure she could burn a pot of water, if left to her own devices. When The Witch’s Brew had opened up down the street, she’d started buying her morning cup there, but it had been closed for the past few weeks.

  The town had been all abuzz with everything that had gone on—the Valdez sisters, an unsolved poisoning, the sudden reappearance of dragons in the magical world. Ramona hadn’t paid any of it much mind. She was mortal, for one, and as much as a mystery poisoning appealed to her professionally, there wasn’t enough money in detecting to do it for fun without any sort of recompense.

  No, she had to save her time for the real cases. More often than not, they weren’t as interesting as attempted murder, but if cheating spouses, runaways, and lost dogs paid the bills, then so be it.

  She sat down at her computer and opened her email, combing through the new ones she’d received. The Altmans, thanking her for finding their daughter. They’d been terrified the girl was dead, but in fact, she had found a rich older man to spend money on her. She’d disappeared with him for three weeks in the Caymans, soaking up the sun.

  That one first, then.

  She started to type out her response, taking another sip of terrible coffee as she went. It had been slow lately. She would have assumed that a big, high-profile poisoning would inspire copycats, stir up trouble. Instead, the opposite had happened. Everyone was so obsessed with Joy Valdez’s condition that it seemed they didn’t have any time to commit crimes.

  Not that that was a bad thing, of course, but Ramona had to keep the lights on somehow. Being a private detective hadn’t been her dream job, but she’d grown to like it. Sure, it could be seedy and disturbing, but it was also a challenge. She liked sifting through evidence, putting together the pieces of a puzzle.

  Still, it didn’t give her the happy buzz that singing did. It didn’t make her feel alive. But singing was a dead dream, something that she had given up four years ago, and she’d never looked back since. It wasn’t like she never got to sing, anyway. Willie and Jake were always willing to back her up at her weekly gig, and the audience always seemed to enjoy it.

  She was happy enough, and that seemed like…well, enough.

  The door opened, and she glanced up from her desk, a smile plastered on her face, ready to greet the new customer.

  It dropped off her face immediately when she saw who was standing there.

  Blayze Dragomir.

  She’d known who he was the second he’d approached her at the bar on Friday night. He’d taken social media by storm in the past few weeks; it was impossible to not know him.

  And sure, she’d been flattered when he’d seemed interested. But then he’d ruined it by being such a smarmy ass. If there was one thing she would not suffer, it was men who thought they could buy her with a drink and a smile.

  And now he’d found her. Great. Well, at least she knew her ad on Google was working.

  If she’d needed any more proof that the universe was unfair, Ramona supposed that this was it. If there had been any sort of justice in the world, this guy would be just as ugly as his behavior to her over the weekend had been. Instead, he was just—so cute. He was tall and tan, and in the tight v-neck t-shirt he was wearing, she could see the definition of his chest.

  His hair was blond and seemed to shine in the sun, and his eyes were startlingly blue. He looked like he should have been the model for Tommy Hillfiger—devastatingly handsome, charmingly all-American, and, worst of all, very aware of it.

  But she was ruled by her head, not her libido, and she knew that any guy who blatantly refused to listen when she’d said she was not interested was not a guy she wanted to know better.

  “Ramona,” he said, moving further into the office, uninvited.

  “Mr. Dragomir.” Ramona tried and failed to suppress the sigh in her voice. This was her business, her place of work, and yet here he was, making her want to do many unprofessional things—like toss him out on his ass, for example.

  He smiled at her, and she noticed that one of his teeth was ever so slightly crooked. Instead of marring his smile, it made him seem softer, more approachable. Her body felt like it was going a little haywire just looking at him, and it was all very unfair. Didn’t her hormones realize that this jerk was completely repugnant?

  “You remember me.” His grin grew.

  Seeing some of that arrogance helped her reign in her out-of-control body. Get a grip, Jones, she told herself.

  “Unfortunately,” she told him. His mood visibly dampened a bit, and it made her feel a bit stronger about approaching the situation. “Look, Mr. Dragomir—“

  “Blayze.”

  “Mr. Dragomir. I made myself pretty clear when I spoke to you the other day. I am flattered, but uninterested. To seek me out at my place of employment is crossing a line, and I am going to have to ask you to go.”

  That was a good idea. No, a great one. If he left, she’d forget about how attractive he was and remember to focus on the fact that he was an asshole.

  Blayze raised his eyebrows at her and huffed out a little laugh. “Look, I admit. I came on a little strong the other night, but I’m not trying to force you to go out with me. I don’t have to force girls to go out with me.”

  Ramona rolled her eyes. He was getting less cute with every word that came out of his mouth. Perfect.

  “It just so happens that I was actually in need of a PI for a little case about someone who was recently poisoned. But if you don’t want it, I can look elsewhere…”

  Wait, what?

  Ramona put everything together very quickly: Damien Dragomir was practically engaged to Felicity Valdez, who’d been tearing up the talk-show circuit, talking about making big, sweeping changes to the monarchy, and whose recent rule had been put into motion by the poisoning of her beloved younger sister.

  Was Blayze seriously here about Joy Valdez?

  The thought was almost too good to be true. Joy Valdez wouldn’t be just any case—she was high profile, she had nearly been killed, and her would-be murderer was still at large. No one knew whether or not she’d been poisoned on purpose or by accident. There’d be so much to figure out, so much to sift through.

  It would not be a cheap case under normal circumstances, but with the added benefit of being on the tab of one of the rich
est families in the United States?

  Blayze was smirking at her, the corner of his mouth getting higher the longer she took to answer. She wanted to wipe that smug look off his face.

  But she wanted to pay rent more.

  “You’re not messing with me, are you?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “I spoke to Felicity and Damien over the weekend. They’re stuck in New York for the next few weeks, but they want to move forward. The police seem to think that Joy was just sold a bad batch of pixie dust, but Felicity isn’t so sure. She wants to attack this from all angles, and she told me that she trusts my judgment. If I think you can help, you’re hired.”

  It was too easy. Ramona couldn’t see any attached strings, but she knew they had to be there. She could sense them.

  The money was tempting—it was more than tempting, if she was honest. Sure, she got steady work, but the last major job she’d had was nearly a year before, when there had been some sex scandal in the mayor’s office. Since then, she’d had to do some serious belt-tightening, in terms of budget.

  With this kind of high profile case, she’d not only be guaranteed serious financial benefits, but also access to a kind of clientele that didn’t often show up in small-town Augustus. The Valdez family had connections, and their connections had connections—this was more than just a job, it was a marketing opportunity.

  Her shoulders slumped, and his handsome face lit up in anticipation. He had her, and he knew it, damn him.

  “I’m $250 an hour, plus expenses,” she said.

  Blayze wrinkled his nose. It looked—strangely adorable. I’m seriously going to have to work on getting my libido in check, Ramona thought to herself. It usually wasn’t a problem. After everything that had happened with Daniel, all those years ago, dating felt like it was out of the question. It felt like she was being disrespectful to Daniel’s memory, even thinking about it.

  Besides, her life was full. She had a job that she loved, and her friends, and her bandmates. She didn’t have time for dating.