Her mystery rash, which only broke out on the right side of her stomach, burned something fierce.Doctors couldn’t figure it out, and she’d tried every kind of medication to no avail.Stress triggered it, and no surprise, this situation was firing it up big time.She pulled up her shirt and gasped at the angry red skin from her ribcage down below the waistband.Crap, it had never been this fierce before.Well, no time to put any useless cream on it now.
She stepped into the mid-September heat and humidity.The buildings in this area were old but in good repair.She spotted a Spanish/Portuguese restaurant across the way.
She caught sight of her reflection as she approached the glass door: cargo pants, black T sporting the Twenty One Pilots’ Blurryface logo, and black work boots that protected her feet if something heavy fell on them.The bandage on her forehead… that had to go.She peeled it off carefully.Yeah, the burn mark looked more bad-ass than a bandage, for sure.
Dragon Arts was first class, with a comfortable waiting area, natural wood floors, and halogen lights in frosted glass cones.A statuesque woman about her age, framed by a tattered pirate’s flag on the wall behind her, sharpened pencils at a tall reception desk.The small gold plaque on the desk identified her as Glesenda.
Her dark pink lipstick and short, white hair popped against her flawless raven skin.“May I help you, sugar?”she asked in a deep voice with a genuine smile.
“I wanted to see what classes you offer.”
She handed Ruby a slick brochure, studying her eyes.“And not listed are…” She did a double-take, her eyebrows furrowing.“Well, you can see the listing for yourself.”
Well, okay then.I’m not high, if that’s what you’re looking for.Ruby devoured the flier looking for one thing: a picture of the owner.No deal, same as their website.An internet search gleaned several articles mentioning Cyntag’s name in conjunction with either his studio or some competition a student had participated in, but nothing on any of the social networks.
Ruby caught Glesenda’s eye.“I understand Cyntag Valeron teaches Cane Fighting Level One?”Whatever that was.
Glesenda nodded toward one of the large glass windows.“He’s teaching in the Sapphire Room right now if you want to watch.”
“Perfect.”Ruby wanted to run over and finally put a face to her uncle’s murderer.Her breath left her with every step toward the window.A class of ten men of various ages stood in formation as they watched two men spar at the far side of the room.One sported a shaved head, was in his fifties, and weighed about two-fifty.The other—holy Jesus in Heaven.She sucked in air and tried to pull herself together.He was whip-muscular, wearing loose white pants with a tight black sash at his waist, his ripped torso slick with sweat.Gorgeous, dangerous-looking, the spit-and-polish image of the Dragon Prince.Even down to his dark hair and the way his eyes narrowed—sharp, intent, and a little too knowing.
He had a tattoo far more fantastic than any she had seen, a dragon crawling up his back.Black and blue wings spanned his shoulders, the tail sliding down his spine to disappear beneath the waistband of his pants.When he shifted, she saw that the Dragon’s head peered over his shoulder.It actually looked three-dimensional, a credit to an amazing artist.
“Yeah, he has that effect on most women.”Glesenda wore an amused expression.
Notquitethis effect, Ruby bet.Okay, yes, she was… impressed with his looks; but she also wanted to kill him.Her chest was so tight she had to push out the words, “That’s Cyntag, the one with the Dragon tat?”
“Sure is.Total hotness,” she said on a sigh.
Sure, if you were into men who sent murderous orbs.The hefty guy pretended to sneak up behind Cyntag, who twisted, hooked the other guy’s neck with the curved handle of the cane, and sent him flat on the mat in a flash.Unscathed, Hefty jumped to his feet and tried another attack, which was quickly thwarted with a pseudo-whack of the cane to his head.She watched, mesmerized by the stealthy grace of Cyntag’s movements, the way his muscles flexed, and how damned fast he was.
“You can listen in, too.”Glesenda pressed a button and then ran in five-inch heels to answer the phone.
Cyntag’s voice came through the speaker.“The next counterattack we’ll demonstrate is an assailant in a face-to-face assault.”
Yes, the low, smooth voice she’d heard on the voice message.
Ready to take more abuse, Hefty tried to punch Cyntag and ended up with his arm locked behind him and the cane shoving him to the floor.
Cyntag extended his hand and effortlessly pulled Hefty to his feet.“Thanks, Stephen.”He raised the cane over his head, which tightened his biceps, and addressed his class.“Looks like a sign of disability or old age, right?If I’m looking for a victim, you’re an easy target.”He arched an eyebrow.“Or maybe not.If you’ve got one of these, you have the ability to fight off an attacker with force.At all times, you can carry a weapon right out in the open, no permit needed.It also doesn’t intimidate people like a gun in a holster can.”
At that moment, Cyntag started to look her way.Ruby moved out of view, her fingers so tight on the frame around the window that she had to pry them off.Her hands were shaking as she passed the desk where Glesenda was on the phone with someone who was obviously calling in sick.Ruby glanced at a clock.Forty-five minutes before class ended.
She’d laid her eyes on him, all right.What was she going to do about it?The only way to take him out—if she could—was to shoot him from a distance, but that wouldn’t glean any answers.She was as desperate for them as she was for revenge.Maybe something here would help.
She passed a sign that read obsidian room.This room bore no window.Too bad, because disturbing sounds emanated from behind the closed door.She tried the handle, ready to act contrite at interrupting.
Except, no deal.The door was locked.The thumps and growls coming from within were muffled, as though the walls were somewhat soundproofed.Those primal growls raised chill bumps on her arms.But more than that, they reached deep inside and twisted at her insides.
She rubbed at her rash and wandered into the shop, pretending to look at fighting sticks, canes, and uniforms.Until she spotted a closed door with the words employees only on it.
She pushed it open, prepared once again to feign innocence if she found someone on the other side.It appeared to be a break room and, fortunately, vacated.A door at the other end was ajar, and she could see a desk.Maybe Cyntag’s office.Inside, a contemporary desk was juxtaposed with more antiques, like framed compasses and maps that looked as though they’d traveled on many a high sea.No pictures of friends, family, or a special vacation.A collection of Dragon figurines lined the top shelf of the bookcase, each locked in combat with either another of its kind or a man wielding a sword.Dude had a thing for dragons.
Ruby caught herself scratching the damned rash again and closed the door.She sank into the leather chair at the desk and searched for any clue to who Cyntag was and what he was involved in.She’d scan anything incriminating with her phone.She’d rifled through four drawers, finding nothing out of the ordinary, when the door opened.Her heartbeat shot straight up into her throat as she turned.
Because of course, it had to be Cyntag standing there.
4
