DRAGON SECURITY: Volume 2: The Complete 6 Books Series

by Glenna Sinclair

  My eyebrows rose because the name was familiar. He was the detective who was Dragon’s contact on Rosalie’s missing person case. Small police force.

  “You were just taking a walk?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Are you here to investigate these supposed ‘UFO’ sightings?”

  The way he said it, it was pretty clear that he didn’t believe in aliens or any of the stuff Karma and her friends lived and breathed.

  What a surprise.

  “No. I’m just passing through.”

  “You’ve been at Johnson’s Motel for two days.”

  I inclined my head. “Yes, sir. Enjoying the scenery.”

  He seemed skeptical, the expression on his face screaming the word liar. I stepped back slightly and slipped my hands into my back jeans pockets, meeting his eye steadily. I’d learned a long time ago that if you appeared confident and looked a man in the eye, it would make that person more likely to trust what you had to say even if you were lying your ass off.

  He hesitated a moment. Then he held out his hand to me.

  “Stay put. We might have more questions later.”

  “I’m free to go?”

  “Yes, unless you have more information you think might be relevant.”

  “No, sir.”

  I could feel his eyes on me as I walked off. The moment I was out of sight of the crime scene, I tugged my cellphone out of my pocket.

  “Wendingo,” I said without any preamble. I was instantly put through to Hayden’s secured line.

  “Rosalie’s been found. She was murdered.”

  There was silence on the other end of the line. Then Hayden sighed. “Are there any leads?”

  “No. Her body was left in a very bizarre way in the woods. I think the killer was trying to make it appear as if some supernatural force had something to do with her death.” I was quiet for a second, weighing my next words. “I have reason to believe her death is related to Karma Myers.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “I think someone from her past came after her and took Rosalie to hurt her.”

  “Okay,” Hayden said. “Learn what you can from this Karma Myers and then come home. We’ll let the cops deal with the investigation into the murder.”

  “You don’t want me to follow up?”

  “No. We were hired to find her. You’ve done that.”

  “What about the family?”

  “I’ll make the notification. I’ll have Mag book you a flight.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He disconnected. I shoved the phone into my pocket, thinking about Karma. What would happen to her after I left? The bruises on her body stuck out to me, her nose battered and swollen where someone had punched her more than once. I made me burn with anger so deep down that I could feel it in my balls. I wanted to find the asshole and show him a thing or two about punching.

  Would she be safe after I left? Who would be there to clean her up if this person, whoever he was, came after her again?

  I barely knew this woman and already she was under my skin enough to make me care. I hated that. I already cared far too much about the women in my life; I didn’t need another one. I didn’t want to care about Karma, but I was afraid it was too late for that.

  She was alone in the motel room when I arrived. I knocked, since she had my only key, and waited while she peeked out the window to make sure it was me and not some unnamed threat. There was fear in her eyes when she finally opened the door and a tremble in her hands when she reached for me. She grabbed my shirt in great big handfuls, tugging me against the length of her body. She snuggled against my chest like a child seeking comfort from her parent, a soft sob blowing hot air through the shirt and against my chest.

  There was nothing I could say to make this right. I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her tight, disregarding her bruised ribs for the moment because it seemed like she needed comfort more than she needed care. And I seemed to have read the situation well because she snuggled even closer, her trembling hands wrapping themselves in the material at the back of my shirt.

  We stood there for a long time, just clinging to each other. Normally my mind would have been wandering and I’d have been anxious to pull away. I was a true Southern man: I wasn’t good with emotions. I was there for the people who mattered to me, no matter the situation, but when things got emotional, I was often headed out the door. Especially with casual lovers.

  The funny thing was, my mind wasn’t wandering. I didn’t want to push her away. I wanted to hold her tighter. I wanted to feel her body against mine for as long as possible. I wanted to make her pain disappear, wanted to feel her breath against my chest all night, wanted to smell the sweet scent of her hair until it grew stale.

  I was almost disappointed when she pulled back.

  Her hands slowly unwrapped themselves from my shirt, her palms pressed against my ribs and sliding over my chest. She watched her hands move like they were disembodied parts, not her own hands moving under her own power. And then her hand slid over my throat and along the angle of my jaw. There was a look in her eye that told me exactly what she needed, a look that made my body respond so instantly, so powerfully, that it was almost painful.

  I took hold of her hips and turned her almost roughly, pushing her up against the low desk that sat beside the door. She maneuvered her body just enough to perch on the edge of the desktop, her hands moving to the button on my jeans, her mind already moving to the same place mine had gone. I stripped her of her dress, yanking it over her head with a force that filled the room with the sound of ripping material. Her hands returned to my jeans, freeing my erection at almost the same second I managed to pull her panties out of the way.

  I stared into her eyes as I tugged her hips forward and thrust against her, watched the pain and pleasure burst through her eyes as I filled her almost violently with my full length. She wrapped her legs around my hips, leaning back on her hands as she pressed her body hard against mine. I had to plant my feet solidly to keep the force of her movements from pushing me away, holding her hips in my hands as I began to move. Her eyes slid shut as pleasure washed over her face, bringing with it a beauty that was indescribable. It was like staring into a work of art, a statue made my God Himself.

  It wasn’t long before I felt myself coming up to the edge of that cliff, to that place that was undeniable and unavoidable. I could feel Rosalie moving close to that place, too. I could feel her muscles tighten around me and her breath get caught in her chest. I buried my fingers in her hair and twisted her head around so that she’d have to look at me. Her eyes were still closed, blocking me from the view I desperately wanted.

  “Look at me,” I demanded.

  I didn’t know why, but I had to see the expression in her eyes. I had to know it was me she was focused on and me she was thinking of. I had to know she was here, in this room, and not off on some fantasy, wishing I was someone I wasn’t.

  “Look at me,” I said again.

  She opened her eyes, the brilliant blue clouded with pleasure and need. When she looked up at me, her pleasure shown so intensely that something broke inside of me. I buried my fingers in her flesh, holding her as close to me as I could. And then I fell, the moment more intense than anything I’d ever experienced before.

  She wrapped her body around mine and held on as the ride came to an end. And then I lifted her and carried her to the bed, holding her gently against me as we slowly came down. She rested her head on my chest, her hand sliding under my shirt to press her cool skin against my belly.

  “I can’t believe she’s dead,” she said softly. “I can’t believe he did that to her!”

  “Do you know what those symbols mean?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t.”

  And then she began to cry and all I could do was hold her close, offering her shallow comfort.

  Chapter 10

  Hayden

  I was glad Megan had been available to do this with me. I hat
ed making death notifications. It didn’t happen frequently, but it was often enough that I knew bringing a woman along sometimes made it much less traumatic for both me and the victim’s family.

  Rita Matthias was a thirty-something homemaker living in a perfectly middle class house in a perfectly middle class neighborhood. We could hear kids screaming somewhere in a back room when she opened the door, her eyes shadowed with exhaustion and overwhelming concern.

  “Can I help you?” she asked politely.

  “Ms. Matthias, I’m Hayden Dubois and this is Megan Bradford-Murphy. We’re from—”

  “Dragon Security,” she said, the bright red spots that had been in her cheeks quickly disappearing. She pressed a hand to her mouth, fear joining everything else in those shadows around her eyes.

  A man walked up behind her, a polite smile on his face. “What’s going on?”

  “These people are from Dragon,” Ms. Matthias mumbled before she stumbled back into his arms. He caught her easily, confusion in the look he shot in my direction.

  “He said she’d be okay if I called you,” Ms. Matthias said. “He promised me!”

  “Who?” I asked, feeling a little confused myself now.

  “The man who took her. He said he wasn’t asking a ransom. He only wanted me to call you, to send you to look for her.”

  Megan stepped forward and took Ms. Matthias’ hands in her own. “Someone contacted you?”

  Ms. Matthias began to cry, big tears rolling down her face as her features crumpled.

  “He called a week or so ago. He told me to call Hayden Dubois at Dragon Security. He told me he had my sister and he would free her if I sent Hayden Dubois to California to look for Rosalie. He was very specific.”

  Megan glanced at me. I had no idea what the fuck was going on, but I had a feeling it was connected to a series of murders that had taken place recently in Louisiana.

  “Did he give you a name or mention anything specific about his location?” I asked.

  Ms. Matthias shook her head. “He just said to call you.” She looked up at Megan, her eyes wide, filled with something like trust. “Please tell me you found her. Please tell me my sister is okay.”

  Megan moved closer, pulling Ms. Matthias’ hands against her chest.

  “I’m sorry ...”

  The wail that came from between Ms. Matthias’ lips was one I would not soon forget. I wanted to press my hands to my ears to make it stop. It reminded me too much of the soul crushing pain that had settled on me the moment I realized my Sam had died.

  I’d wanted to wail that way, but it had gotten stuck somewhere deep inside and had begun to fester almost immediately, like an infected wound that could never heal. I could only hope that Ms. Matthias somehow found a healing that I’d been denied.

  Megan and I finally walked back outside. She just leaned against the side of the car beside me and slid her hand into mine.

  “What’s going on, Hayden?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know. But I’m on it.”

  “You don’t have to do it alone.”

  “I know.”

  “Don’t do it alone.”

  I looked at her, this woman who was probably the closest friend I’d ever had, who was the only woman I’d ever known who didn’t want anything more from me than friendship. I think I loved her more than I’d ever loved anyone. Maybe even more than I’d loved Sam, if that was possible.

  But it was a different sort of love. I’d thought for a while that it was romantic. That I was jealous of her relationship with her husband. But I knew now that it wasn’t that sort of thing. As beautiful as she was, as kind and caring and sexy as she was, I craved only her companionship, her commiseration, her understanding. It was nothing like what I’d once craved with Sam. Or with Waverly.

  I kissed her forehead and pulled her to the passenger door. We drove across town in a companionable silence.

  Once alone, I knew what I had to do. I couldn’t involve Megan in what I was afraid would come next. But I couldn’t do it alone.

  ***

  “I need your help.”

  Waverly looked at me as though I’d gone insane.

  “You fired me.”

  “You’re not fired. You’re on leave. And I didn’t order it.”

  “Big difference.”

  I could see how angry she was, and I was glad. She’d been patient with me. Far too patient. It was high time I got what was coming for being such a shit.

  She began to close her door, but I put my boot between the door and the frame, grabbing her wrist before she could walk away. I pulled her close, trying not to remember the last time I’d touched her like this, the last time I’d pulled her this close to me.

  “I’m an asshole. You can do whatever you want to punish me for the way I’ve treated you. But you’re the only one I know who can do this for me.”

  She jerked her arm away, standing to her full height—which was still several inches smaller than me—and pushed out her ample chest.

  “You are an asshole. You’re the biggest, fucking asshole I’ve ever met. What kind of a man does the things you did? You take me to bed repeatedly and then just abruptly stop without any explanation. You’re completely emotionally unavailable, to the point that sometimes it’s like being in bed beside a brick wall. And then you accuse me of putting an operative at risk and humiliate me in front of my colleagues.” Her voice shook with emotion. “You didn’t even try to stand up for me. You’re more than an asshole!”

  “I know.”

  “And now you expect me to jump at the chance to help you?”

  “No. I expect you to send me packing. But I didn’t know where else to go.”

  She seemed to like that idea. “What do you want?”

  Her. I wanted her, in the worst possible way. In my heart and in my arms and in my life and in my bed. She didn’t understand that it was a kindness for me to have cut the relationship off before it got to the point that she also wanted those things. Things I couldn’t provide.

  “Hayden, I need you to trace a phone call. Please.”

  She cocked her head slightly. “Call the phone company.”

  “I need this done on the sly. I can’t leave a paper trail.”

  Understanding slowly came into her eyes. “Does this have something to do with those murders you’ve been obsessing over?”

  “I think it might.”

  She was quiet for a moment, her eyes moving slowly over my face, as though she were assessing me. And then she sighed as she took a step back.

  “Come in.”

  “Thank you.”

  She snorted in a very delicate, Waverly sort of way. “Don’t be so grateful yet. You have no idea what price I’m going to ask.”

  “I’ll pay anything.”

  She laughed. “Don’t be so willing.”

  But I would have. I knew I was asking more than I had any right to expect. But I also knew what kind of a person Waverly was.

  It was why I couldn’t afford to get to close to her. Or to anyone. I wouldn’t put anyone else I cared about in danger. I couldn’t.

  Chapter 11

  Karma

  I stared at myself in the mirror, at the bright blue marks that had developed around my eyes and the swelling of my nose. I didn’t know how Kasey could look at me and not see what I saw: a broken, miserable woman with a past that would never truly go away.

  I hated what I was. I hated what I’d done. And I hated that it had all come back and taken Rosalie from me, from her family, from the life she was meant to live.

  I’d known he was desperate. I knew he could do some stupid things. But this?

  I shuddered, dropping my eyes from the mirror. I couldn’t look at myself any longer.

  I washed my hands and dragged my fingers through my hair, pressing moisture into the strands that fell around my face. When I stepped back out into the bedroom, Kasey was sitting up on the side of the bed, his back to me. He didn’t turn when I came into the roo
m or acknowledge me. He was reading something on his phone.

  “I should go.”

  That got his attention. He stood in all his naked glory, his body covered in colorful tattoos. I was grateful in that instant that I’d decided to forget my ban on sexual relationships. The memory of this man, of that glorious body, was going to keep me going for a long, long time.

  “We need to talk, Karma.”

  “About what?”

  He threw up his hands, a frustration that could not be expressed in any other way clear in his movement.

  “Rosalie is dead and I’m pretty sure you know what happened to her. Whoever walked her out of that hotel room also broke into your room just a few days before. You have to know him.”

  “My knowledge isn’t going to help you.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because he’s probably long gone. He’s not stupid enough to sit around and wait to be caught. Besides,” I gestured toward him, a sudden sadness weighing heavy on my shoulders, “I don’t want you to be the one to go after him.”

  “Why not?”

  I just shrugged.

  He sighed, waving his phone where I could see it. “They’re calling me in. They say that my job was only to find her. This is an e-ticket for a flight back to Houston.”

  I nodded. I’d figured he’d be leaving soon.

  “But I can’t go until I know the truth.”

  Those words stood between us like a wall. Tears filled my eyes. I turned away, crossing the room to scoop my dress up off the floor. I couldn’t stand there naked. I felt as though he could see more than just my body, right through to the dark marks on my dirty soul.

  I pulled the dress on and curled up in the desk chair, tugging my legs up underneath me as I studied my fingers. If I looked at him, I knew I would never have the courage to tell him what he wanted to know.

  “I’m a fraud. I’m not this spiritual, alien hunting, paranormal believing person. I don’t even know if I believe in aliens. I just ... it seemed like a good place to hide, a good thing to do to waste my time on.”

  “You chose this life to hide?”