Come and get me, sweetheart.
He’d learned long ago that females, at least Crescent Dragons, were as vicious and capable as any male.He would give her no deference.No mercy.He shot toward her beneath the water, knocking her aside.One of her talons scratched across his scales but not deep enough to penetrate.
She came at him again, her fangs aiming at his throat.His tail whipped out and lashed her side, but she grabbed for him anyway.He let her get close enough to think she had a chance before locking his arm around her neck.Pinned against his side, she kicked and tore at him with her claws.A spray of leathery spines fanned out from the sides of her head, brushing against his face as she tried to thrash back and forth.
Her tailthwackedhim in the back of the head so hard that he momentarily loosened his grip on her.She pushed off and started to circle around him for another attack.He grabbed hold of her tail and snapped the bone.She howled in pain as she swam back to the boat and scrambled onto the only part of the yacht still above water.
He climbed onto the back edge right behind her.She blew fiery spikes at him.He ducked but had little room to maneuver.Fire prickled along his scales, and one spike lanced the unprotected flesh near his eye.He lunged at her, knocking her down and clamping his hand around her snout as she prepared to blow more of that lethal Breath.She kicked, her claws tearing at his scales.He jerked her head back and tore into her throat, finishing it.
Hot blood coursed down his chin.She fell limp and slid into the water with a splash.He followed her down, clamping onto her, Breathing Dragon… taking her essence.It was how he held the power of many Dragon colors.Her Carnelian nature surged through him like a thousand volts of electricity.The water flickered and glowed red as the last of her power transferred to him.She Catalyzed back to human upon death, and he released her to sink to the murky depths.
The ocean suddenly sucked at him as the yacht sank, pulling him down in its current.He pushed away, fighting the vacuum to get to the surface.The far-off sound of an engine caught his ear, the man trying to get away in a dinghy.When Cyn caught up to it, the man leaped into the water.Cyn had no idea what kind of magick the Deuce possessed.He knew Dragon skills by their color, unless they were adept killers who had absorbed their opponents’ powers.Deuces wielded all kinds of weapons and abilities, with no indication by their appearance.
The man’s hands glowed blue, creating a force field around himself.He sputtered as waves splashed into his face.“We’re innocent,” he said on a gasp.
“I’m sorry, but it’s not my place to judge.”In Dragon form, Cyn’s voice was deep and gravelly.“Or negotiate.”
“Please, don’t kill my daughter.I beg you?—”
Cyn dove through the painful field and cut off the man’s words—and his life.He surveyed the area as the man’s body sank.No one thrashed in the water.If anyone else had been on board, they were dead, too.
The dinghy kept churning away into the night.He grabbed onto the side once he’d caught up and nearly tipped it over as he tried to crawl inside.He Catalyzed to man and pulled himself in.The sight of a blanket wrapped around a sleeping child smacked him in the chest.Ah, the man’s daughter.Her feet were bare, nightgown wrapped around her legs like seaweed.Blood marred her temple.Cyn knelt down next to her and found a pulse.
Take out everyone on the yacht.Everyone.
The man who’d given him the order knew the child was onboard, knew Cyn was ruthless enough to kill her.He rubbed the back of his neck as he contemplated her.They must have a good reason for wanting her dead.And hewascold-blooded enough to carry out any task they required.
Wasn’t he?
1
Present day…
Ah, the smell of fresh paint in the morning.
Ruby stepped out of the office and squinted at the sun reflecting off the windshield of a ’57 Chevy.For a few seconds, a bright mark marred everything she saw, including the Gottlieb Grand Slam 1953 pinball machine that was farther along in the restoration process.Beyond that, five acres filled with memories of climbing cars, dismantling bicycles, and the sound of her mom calling, “Ruby, get off there.You’re going to fall and crack your head open!”To an adventurous seven-year-old, annoying.Now, a sound she’d kill to hear again.
What she didn’t see was her business partner.Typical.She stalked across the gravel, searching the sections of vintage toys, old signage, and then rows of Coca-Cola machines for him.
“Seen Nevin?”she asked Jack, her expert on motorcycle restoration.
His olive skin gleamed in the sun, set off by the deep red of his tank top and mop of deep brown curls.He nodded toward the back.“Chewing the fat with a friend.”
“Augh.”
Jack hefted his wrench.“Want me to bust his chops, Miz Ruby?I’ll kick his ass all over the place… if you’ll pardon my French.”
“That’s not French,” she said, trying to ignore the “Miz Ruby” that he wouldn’t stop calling her, along with his flirtatious smile.“Thanks, but he’s my problem.”She appreciated his chivalry, but she wasn’t interested in any kind of romantic relationship.
She continued on to Nevin’s disorganized side of the yard and found him leaning against one of his junk sculptures, laughing it up with some guy.
“Nevin.”She kept her gaze on him, plastering on a pleasant-but-fake smile for his friend’s benefit.“Our client is picking up the Wayne gas pump at the end of the week, the one that doesn’t look anywhere near ready.”
Nevin rubbed his belly where his shirt rode up and exposed pale, flabby flesh.“You’re good at finding deals and making old stuff look new again.Me…” He gestured to the roof of a 1976 Cadillac Fleetwood he’d fashioned into a table.“How ‘bout you do the resto stuff and let me focus on my art?”
“Resto is paying the bills.You haven’t sold one piece yet.”
“Aw, Ruby, you said business is good.Can’t we take it easy for a bit?”
