by Riley Storm
Braz shook his mighty head. What was he going to show her? She knew who he was. What he was. And she wasn’t interested.
Well, she hadn’t been interested. Then she’d gone and kissed him on the cheek in the hallway, lingering for a moment in his personal space. In his bubble. That was a line Grace had been very careful not to cross over the years.
But she had tonight.
Braz literally had no idea what it meant. It could be a clue. Or it could just be that Grace was still in shock, and had acted without thinking. She hadn’t kissed him on the lips, in a romantic manner, so he couldn’t take it as an open invitation to kiss her.
Maybe it was her way of inviting him to kiss her, without being so bold as to kiss him first? Or perhaps she was just being polite, and if he tried to kiss her she would freak out and leave for Kennewick Falls like she’d been saying she would.
Why are women so confusing?
Braz growled at the sky and shook his head as he descended, trying to dislodge his thoughts of Grace.
It partially worked. The ground was coming up fast and he spread his powerful wings, catching the air in them, swiftly slowing his descent. When he was perhaps fifty feet up he initiated the change.
The bundle of clothes fell to the concrete below and a moment later Braz dropped out of the sky in human form, immediately grabbing them up and putting them on.
Normally to take care of any business in town, he would drive, but the place he was heading that night was far enough on the outskirts that Braz could fly in and land nearby without risking being seen. It was much faster that way.
His target was the empty building on the other side of the unlit parking lot. Once a standalone retail-style warehouse, it now sat empty. Or so it appeared to the public.
Ever since Wilson had first become involved with the dragons, they had begun amassing a file on him. So Braz knew where the criminal ‘overlord’ of Five Peaks had gone after his warehouse had been destroyed by Pace and Carla.
There were no visible lights on, but Braz knew that didn’t mean a thing. He suspected at least two people were in there, possibly three. He’d found them.
Walking across the parking lot he jogged around the back, to the steel roll-up door. Reaching down he started to scoop his fingers underneath it, then paused at the sound of voices from the other side.
He focused and tried to listen in, but they were muffled. Too far away for his ears to hear through the door itself.
Well, that’s easily fixed.
Braz casually gripped the metal and lifted. It shrieked and protested, but with a little grunt he lifted it free and tore half of it off, dropping it to the ground.
Inside the back the lights were on, and the racks were full of goods. Clearly the warehouse part was not unused.
“Here, Wilson-Wilson-Wilson,” Braz called, walking into the empty interior.
Whoever the voices belonged to had disappeared into the warehouse.
“Here Wilson-Wilson-Wilson.” He pitched his voice to sound like he was calling a dog. “Come out, come out, wherever you are. I just want to talk.”
The lights went out suddenly.
Braz grinned, closing his eyes momentarily as they switched over to night-vision. Whoever it was on the inside, they clearly did not know what they were up against. Point for Braz.
The click of a trigger being pulled sounded the instant before a loud bang filled his ears and something smashed squarely into Braz’s back, flinging him forward.
His forehead slammed into the horizontal metal bar of the racking, aborting his forward momentum and flinging his head back. His feet were still moving forward however and the sudden, abrupt change of direction flipped him onto his back. Stars exploded in the warehouse ceiling when the rear of his skull smashed into the concrete floor.
Braz moaned in pain, his back on fire. Dragon skin was notoriously tough. His back would be blue and bruised for some time, but the bullet would not have penetrated. There was only one place weak enough for that, and he’d been facing the wrong way for it to happen.
“Ow,” he groaned loudly as his senses returned to him, the stars in the ‘sky’ fading away as his accelerated healing kicked in. Braz kept the act up though, not sure how much his opponent knew about him. He writhed in pain. “You shot me! You shot me!”
Footsteps sounded and a figure appeared out of the gloom, a pistol trained on Braz’s forehead.
“Damn right I did. Now who the hell are you, you piece of shit? You’re going to pay for breaking in here. Do you know who owns this place?”
A moment later a second figure appeared as well, from the opposite direction.
Braz stopped rolling in pain and grinned. “Yeah, I do. Is he home? Will he come out and play?” he asked wickedly.
The two men looked shocked.
Braz’s hand shot out, grabbing the ankle of the man who’d shot him in the back. He squeezed hard and yanked. Wilson’s thug dropped onto his back, the air rushing from his lungs.
Then Braz rolled swiftly in the opposite direction at the second person, bringing his left knee up and kicking out. The thug screamed as bone broke and the gun went flying away into the darkness.
Braz got to his feet and adjusted his clothing, settling it back into place.
“Now, which of you boys wants to tell Wilson that he can come out and talk if he wants to do this nicely?”
Neither responded, too busy dealing with the pain he’d caused.
“Ugh,” Braz said, crossing his arms. He reached out and kicked the other pistol away before the air-deprived guard could get his hands on it. “Hurry up and pull yourselves together, will you? What does he pay you for? Certainly not to roll around in pain.”
“Screw you,” the one thug spat, having recovered his breath enough for that.
Braz had wondered at first if these were the same two men who had been following Grace, but now that he’d heard both of them speak he could put that theory to rest. They were other cogs in Wilson’s organization. Nobodies, most likely.
“Now that’s not very nice,” Braz said cheerfully. “Why don’t you try being more helpful next time?”
“Go to hell,” the same man said.
Braz rolled his eyes. Taking two steps he loomed over the thug, grabbed him by the neck and lifted him off the ground. The man’s eyes went wide in the near darkness, giving Braz a full view of the whites as he kicked and thrashed in terror. Braz’s grip didn’t move an inch.
“Last time bub,” he snarled, fighting to keep from showing his powers and true self to the guard. “Where is Wilson?”
A pained voice came from behind Braz. “He’s not here.”
“Aw crap,” Braz muttered a moment before another hammerblow smashed into him between the shoulder blades.
He turned and flung his hapless prisoner at the second guard, the one with the broken hand whom had managed to recover his gun while Braz was busy trying to intimidate his partner.
The pair went down in a heap, but so did Braz, hissing in pain. Getting shot hurt dammit!
He stormed over to the two guards, and hauled them one by one to the metal racking. Once there he grabbed the middle support bars and twisted. They bent mightily, spilling all sorts of product to the floor. Braz shrugged it off, the impact of boxes nothing compared to the impact of a bullet, and folded the thick metal around the man’s wrists, holding him in place.
Turning he went back for the other guard and repeated the process.
“Now,” he growled. “Tell me where Wilson is, and where I can find what he took from me?”
The two men just glared sullenly.
“Fine.”
This was proving more difficult than he thought. Braz got up and started searching the warehouse. If Wilson was here, he would find him. He looked high, looked low, quite literally tearing the building apart with his bare hands.
But he couldn’t find Wilson, nor any sign of the box of stuff from Grace’s car.
Finally, he returned to t
he two guards.
“Where. Is. Wilson?”
The guard on the right glared at him. “Fuck you.”
“Oh, a potty mouth on you,” Braz said conversationally. “That’s not very nice.”
Then without waiting he reached out and casually snapped two of the man’s fingers. The guard screamed while Braz shuddered. He hated how fragile humans were. Plus, broken bones were nasty.
The other guard snarled. “He’s not here man! Damn. What the hell dude? He’s gone. Nobody has heard from him in hours.”
Braz tilted his head, shuffling to the side to regard the other tough, the one with the already broken hand. “Why has nobody heard from him?”
“I don’t know. He and those two new guys of his went out on a mission today. Nobody has seen or heard from them since. We were supposed to…um, do a thing with him tonight. But he didn’t show up.”
Braz frowned. That was interesting. Where had Wilson gone after he’d taken the stuff from Grace’s car earlier?
“Is he answering his phone?”
“No. None of them are. It’s like they’ve disappeared.”
“Gone down a bolthole have you Wilson?” Braz mumbled to himself, getting to his feet. “Now I wonder why you would do that?”
What had the criminal found in Grace’s car to spook him so? Was it simply the fact that Braz was involved now, or was there more to it?
Unfortunately, he didn’t know where Wilson’s hideaway was. It hadn’t been on the file, which meant he was keeping it ultra-close to his chest.
Lost in thought, Braz headed for the hole in the loading door.
“Hey man, where are you going? You can’t leave us here!”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Braz called over his shoulder. “You both need medical attention. I’ll make sure the police take you to the doctor first.”
He ignored the protests of the crooks. They wouldn’t go away for long, of course. But it would get them off the streets for a little bit at least. Which was, in Braz’s mind, better than nothing at all.
After making a quick phone call to Carla, Pace’s mate who just so happened to be a Sheriff’s Deputy in Five Peaks, he jogged off into the darkness.
It was time he got back to his house, to see Grace and make sure she was okay.
He would have the entire flight back to figure out how he was going to tell her that he had failed. That Wilson was still out there, and he was no closer to solving why someone was after her.
Hopefully she’ll understand.
Chapter Fourteen
Grace
“He thought you stole his treasure?” she gasped.
“Yes, the big oaf! Can you believe that?” Emma giggled. “I love him and he’s actually really smart, but my goodness he was so wrong there. So so wrong.”
Grace joined in the laughter, and so did Clarice as they enjoyed another glass of wine. It was only the third, but she was starting to feel its effects a little.
Or is it the fourth?
The two women had hung out with her all evening, keeping Grace company while Braz went off to do whatever it was he was going to do to Wilson. Grace had decided she simply did not want to think about it. It would be easier that way.
Ideally Braz would come back, Wilson would be dealt with, and this whole escapade would be over. Then she could kiss him goodnight and go home.
You aren’t driving home. Not tonight. Too much wine.
In the morning then.
Grace was just starting to focus on the fact she’d told herself she was going to kiss Braz goodnight when there was the sound of someone coming in the front door of the huge house.
“I’m back,” Braz’s voice echoed throughout.
“Oh, crap,” Grace muttered. “It’s him.”
The other women smiled and got up. “Stay,” they told her.
“What? No, wait. Don’t go,” Grace said as they headed for the exit, leaving her there alone. “You can stay.”
“You need to talk to him Grace,” Emma said. “Trust me. Just say what’s on your mind.”
“I know what you’re doing,” she said, raising a finger. “I know.”
Clarice winked. “It’ll be good for you.”
Before Grace could come up with a good reply, the two of them slipped out of the common area through one exit, a moment before Braz came in the other.
“Braz,” she said, sitting up straight, trying to act completely sober.
He arched an eyebrow. “Fun night?”
She rolled her eyes. “Can’t you at least pretend not to notice I’ve had an extra glass or two?”
“Emma has that effect on people,” he said with a chuckle, settling down.
On the couch. Her couch. Now only the middle seat separated the pair of them. Two and a half empty feet. There wasn’t even a barrier. She could put down the pillow she was resting her arms on, but that wouldn’t even slow the muscled shifter if he tried to lean over it and kiss her.
Would she want him to?
Grace’s thoughts were such a jumbled mess that she was late registering the troubled look that had come over Braz’s face. He stared at the floor, biting his lip in uncharacteristic broodiness.
“What is it Braz?” she asked, not sure she wanted to know the answer.
“I didn’t get it,” he said bluntly.
“Oh. Um, what happened?” Grace didn’t necessarily want to know, but it was obviously something that mattered to Braz. Given that he was offering to shelter her for the night, the least she could do was hear him out.
It had absolutely nothing to do with her wanting to comfort him and make him feel better. Not at all. She had that, and all her other desires, firmly under wraps. They weren’t going to control her. Not tonight!
“He wasn’t there,” Braz told her, detailing his arrival at the warehouse and search for the mysterious Wilson character.
Grace’s eyes narrowed at several spots. He seemed to be glossing over a section where he fought two guards, but she let it slide. It didn’t seem to affect the story as a whole. Maybe he was just sparing her the violent details. She appreciated that. Braz was a nice guy, he thought about other people like that.
“I don’t know how, or why, but he’s gone into hiding,” Braz said unhappily.
“If he knows what you are, or who you are, then doesn’t that make sense?” she asked. “He’s well aware that one of you can simply storm into his warehouse and tear it apart, and he can’t stop you. So of course he would go somewhere you can’t find him.”
“Maybe,” Braz conceded. “But he wasn’t communicating with his men either. It just felt like he was…scared. Like he was on the run, not in a confident manner. Whatever it is he got, it must be damn important.”
“I’m sorry, I wish I knew what it was” she said, wishing he was seated closer so she could reach out and rest a hand on him. Braz deserved to know how sorry she was that she couldn’t help him more.
Wait a minute. What are you talking about? How sorry you are? The wine is talking…
“Don’t worry about it,” Braz said with a reassuring smile. “There’s no reason you should have. Besides, I’m not out of ideas just yet. In the morning I’m going to find Carla—that’s Pace’s mate, one of the others here—and ask her. She’s a deputy with the Five Peaks Sheriff’s Department. If they know about any of Wilson’s other hideouts , she can get the information for me.”
“That makes sense.” Grace agreed, tugging idly at her hair while she watched him out of the corner of an eye. “But what do we do now?”
“Now?” Braz said, getting up from the couch and reaching out a hand to her. “Now we get some sleep.”
Grace frowned. The wine might be talking to her, but she wasn’t sure she was ready to just jump ahead quite like that.
“Let me show you to your room,” Braz said, dropping her hand once she was on her feet.
Oh.
“I get a room? Not a couch?” she asked, wanting to make it very clear that she was expecting
to sleep in an entirely different section of the house than Braz. Wine or no wine, she wasn’t taking him to bed.
Or letting herself be taken to his bed. Those big biceps could flex all they wanted, pulling that shirt taut across his shoulders, but it didn’t matter. Grace was in control and the only thing she might let happen right now, was for Braz to kiss her. Everything else was off the table. Absolutely. Definitely.
Most likely.
“Of course,” Braz assured her. “We have guest quarters throughout. You’ll be two doors down from me. If that’s okay?”
Grace might be feeling her wine, but she’d still caught the ever so slight hesitation before he’d asked his question.
“Well, I suppose I can’t go back to the hotel and get a room,” she mused.
“It’s not safe there either,” Braz told her. “You’d be exposed there.”
“They already have what they want,” she pointed out. “They’re not going to come after me anymore. You need to stop worrying about that, Braz.”
He frowned and started to speak but she cut him off gently.
“Besides, I’m only here for two more days. After that you won’t be able to protect me anyway. Again, not that you need to, because I no longer have anything they want.”
“What happens in two days?” Braz asked, his brow wrinkling in concern.
“Um, I have to go home? I have a job. I need to work on Monday, Braz. My bosses will be expecting me to show up.”
The frown deepened on his face, lines of concern etching themselves into place. It was clear that Braz did not like the idea of her returning to Kennewick Falls, but he also didn’t appear to have any counter argument ready, because he stayed silent. Had he completely forgotten about that, she wondered?
“Did you expect me to stay?” she asked, curious as to his logic.
“I hadn’t really thought about it,” he said quietly. “Just you know, with everything going on here…”
“Exactly,” she said, interrupting him again. “Everything going on here. In Five Peaks. Where I don’t live anymore Braz. A place I didn’t even want to come back to. Yes, I had fun tonight, Clarice and Emma are lovely and we had a lot of laughs. Even seeing you again has been nice. Interesting, very interesting, but nice. But I have to go back.”
