Mercy Burns

Chapter Eleven

I leaned back in the kitchen chair and stared out the dust-covered windows. Damon’s idea of pretty was vastly different from mine—no surprise, I suppose, given he apparently found plain brown draman extremely attractive.

The apartment was part of an old confectionery factory, and it was still very industrial in feel. Old bricks, hard steel, bright chrome, and polished concrete were the flavor of the day.

But it was directly opposite Deca Dent, and provided the perfect refuge to spy on the club. Not that there was anything or anyone to spy on at the moment. The place was as deserted as an old cemetery.

Of course, we still did regular perimeter checks, just in case they used the rear entrance.

“Would you like any more steak?” Damon asked.

He was sitting opposite me, but his bare feet were caressing the bottom of my leg and there was a heated, hungry look in his eyes. The meal he’d cooked had catered to one hunger; now the other had come to the fore. Even after we’d spent a good percentage of the afternoon twined around each other, exploring and caressing and loving until exhaustion hit and the meal was ready.

But as much as I wanted nothing more than to touch and be touched, I also hungered to be something other than just another sexual partner. It might never amount to anything permanent, but I wanted to be remembered as more than just another woman in a long line of them.

So I ignored the simmering desire, and simply said, “If I eat anything else, I’ll burst.”

“What about some more red?”

I shook my head and watched him pour wine into his glass, then said, “Tell me, why do you see yourself as little more than a killer?”

“Because that’s what I do and that’s all I am.”

“But it’s not.” There was a slight tic in the muscles along his jawline. This man really didn’t like talking about himself. Was it was part of his training or did it go far deeper? “You like to keep people at arm’s length, don’t you?”

His expression closed over once again. “Why would you think that?”

“Because any normal person would be terrified by the statement.”

“You weren’t.”

“We’ve already established that I’m far from normal.” My voice was dry, and amusement briefly tugged the corners of his mouth. “Besides, the situation we were in was far from normal. I needed to get out of that place and if I had to use a killer to do that, then I damn well would.”

“That still doesn’t make your statement about me true.”

“Of course it does. You’re too at ease with calling yourself that, so you’ve done it more than once. Add to that the fact that you’ve already said you have no intention of ever getting emotionally involved, and your emotionally barren little world remains nice and secure.”

“You really do like making snap judgments about people you barely know, don’t you?”

“It’s not a snap judgment. And besides, after last night and this afternoon, you can’t exactly say we’re strangers anymore.”

“It makes us intimate strangers, Mercy, nothing more.”

My smile felt tight. “You do realize your strategy is doomed to failure, don’t you?”

He raised an eyebrow. “And why would you think that?”

“Because you are neither cold nor unfeeling, Damon, and sooner or later someone will break through that wall you’ve raised around your heart.”

“I come from a long line of muerte who lost their heads, not their hearts. I expect to be no different.”

“Then you’re selling yourself short. You are not your forefathers.”

“And you,” he said gently, “are reading entirely too much into my actions. I will not fall, Mercy, no matter how great the attraction between us.”

I snorted derisively. “Oh, never fear, I have no illusions when it comes to you and me. You’ve expressed your views well enough when it comes to draman and their usefulness.”

“It’s not because you’re draman.” He reached out and wrapped his hands around mine, squeezing lightly. “I don’t see you as draman. I don’t think I ever have, which is why I was so surprised when you told me you were.”

“That’s not the point—”

“But it is. I won’t have you believing something that isn’t true.”

“Then what is your great truth?” I muttered, suddenly wishing I hadn’t gotten into this whole subject. It didn’t really matter which of us was right, because there was one truth that wasn’t going to change. The magic we’d felt every time we came together—the intimacy and the possibilities—would not be explored once this case was solved. No matter what, he would walk away, and it would probably hurt a whole lot more then than the thought did now.

Because no matter what he said, there was something between us. Something that was worth exploring.

“You were afraid today when you saw that car, weren’t you?”

I frowned. “Of course, but—”

“Well,” he continued relentlessly, “imagine living with that sort of fear daily. Imagine living with me and not knowing at the end of each day whether I’d walk in the door at the end of it.”

“If you love someone, you love the whole of them. And that includes what they are and what they do.”

“It’s easy to say that when you’re not living the situation day in, day out.”

“People do.”

“Yes, and lots of marriages break up over it, too. That’s a statistical fact.”

“The difference between your statistics and what we’re discussing here is two simple words—soul mate. When you meet her, Damon, your dragon will not let her go.”

When it came to dragons, that was the truth—and yet not the whole truth. A dragon male might meet his soul mate, but that didn’t necessarily mean he had to settle down and make a commitment to her. My clique’s king was living proof of that. He kept his queen by his side but he refused to commit to her, and continued to breed with other women whenever the whim took him. I couldn’t actually complain about that, because if not for our king’s philandering ways, my brother would not exist. And Trae was the one thing in my life that I couldn’t do without. He wasn’t only my brother, but my savior. I wouldn’t be here today if he hadn’t saved me all those years ago when one of his idiot half-brothers had decided I’d needed to learn to fly. Which is how I’d gotten one of those damn scars—Trae had misjudged his claw position as he’d swooped from the sky to grab me, inches from the rocks.

“How do you know I haven’t already met my soul mate?” Damon asked gently. “How do you know I haven’t already walked away from her?”

Because you wouldn’t be responding to me the way you are if you’d already met your soul mate. But I kept the words inside, and simply said, “If you have, then you are a fool. And I don’t believe you are.”

His smile was wry. “That’s another of your snap judgments.”

“But it’s true, isn’t it?”

“Only partially.”

I raised an eyebrow. “So you’re admitting to being a fool?”

“No.”

“Then what are you admitting?”

He glanced at me, his face like granite. It’d be easier to read a rock than try to catch this man’s thoughts and emotions. “Right now?” he said. “Nothing.”

“Yeah, believing that,” I muttered.

“Let’s just enjoy what we have, Mercy, and be grateful for it.”

Grateful could take a long, flying leap off the nearest cliff, I thought, but I was saved from actually having to say anything by the ringing of my phone.

“Well, I found the owner of Deca Dent for you,” Leith said, the minute I hit the receive button. I didn’t bother putting it on speaker—Damon had already proven that he could hear the other side of a phone conversation. “And it’s owned by Hannish Valorn. I’ve e-mailed you some pics and the file with the information, but there’s not a lot.”

“Why not?”

“Because dragons are notoriously closed-mouthed when it comes to talking about their own. I can tell you he only got back into the country a few months ago, and took over ownership of the club almost immediately.”

“So he owns it legally?”

“Yep. I had one of the boys track down the paperwork. The club itself is a known haunt for lowlifes, which makes it a rather odd acquisition for the only son of a dragon king. I tried to find out more about Hannish,” Leith said, “but the grapevine is amazingly quiet. We’re doing an overseas search to see if we can find anything there, but it’s probably going to take time.”

Everything about this case seemed to. “But there’s nothing you can uncover to suggest he’s involved in anything nefarious?”

“No. But that also means there’s nothing to say he’s not, as well.” He paused, and tapped some keys, meaning he was still at the office, because he generally refused to work at home. “The club isn’t run by Hannish, though. It appears he has a manager—a fellow by the name of Franco Harkin, a draman from your clique. There’s also a Jake Whilde working there. I can’t find a picture or very much information about Harkin, but both men appear to have come into the country with Hannish.”

“If they came into the country with Hannish, then they have to have passports.”

“Obviously, but they’re either overseas ones or they have them under other names.”

“Is that even possible in this day and age?”

“Anything is possible if you know the right people, Mercy.”

I guess so.

Leith continued, “About the only bit of gossip I could gather was the fact that Hannish and his dad had a serious falling-out about ten years ago, and they haven’t seen each other since. Oh, and one guy commented that Hannish was out to get his dad.”

“ ‘Get’ as in kill?”

“I’m not sure. When I asked him to clarify, he just shrugged. I think he was too scared to admit anything more.”

“Well, if Hannish is behind the cleansings, then he had a right to be wary.” I shivered as the memories of the truck hitting us rose again, but shoved them aside and said, “Is that all?”

“Yes. But I’m digging into the council’s records to see if I can find anything there.”

Surprise rippled across Damon’s features. “How are you accessing the council’s records? The security around them is supposedly watertight.”

“Nothing is watertight where a sea dragon is concerned.” Leith’s voice was amused. “Especially when the security involved is over a year old. Your council needs a serious update.”

“I’ll tell them.” Damon’s voice was grim.

“Please do,” Leith commented cheerfully. “And if you want a recommendation, I can give you several names.”

“No doubt friends of yours who can be pressured for passwords.”

“I don’t need passwords, my friend.”

Damon snorted softly, but it was an amused sound. “You think you’re good enough to find, and then get into, Hannish’s bank accounts?”

“Yes. Although it might take a little while unless you can give me the bank and account number.”

“If I start asking for that sort of information, I might just stir up interest in the wrong places. I’d rather not warn anyone we’re suspicious at the moment.”

“Why do you want to investigate his bank records?” I asked, a little confused by the sudden request.

“Because,” Damon said, “Marcus cut his son off financially when they argued ten years ago, and Hannish was left with little more than the clothes on his back and a few thousand dollars in the bank. It’ll be interesting to see where he got the money to buy Deca Dent.”

“Maybe he has investment partners,” I said.

“He owns the club directly,” Leith commented. “And if his dad did cut him off, then tracking down the source of his wealth just might expose a clue or two.”

I frowned. “Dragons are notorious thieves, so sudden influxes of wealth come with the territory.”

Damon was shaking his head even before I’d finished. “Most dragons are very judicious with their thieving these days. They have to be—not only because human security techniques are getting better, but because stealing too much in their own territory could bring the wrong sort of attention.”

Meaning the council as well as the humans. “Yeah, but Hannish has been overseas, and I doubt he would give a crap about his clique anyway.” And anyone involved in the slaughter of two whole towns wasn’t ever likely to care about that sort of stuff. “And it still doesn’t explain the destruction of the draman towns.”

“Maybe the draman were in the way,” Leith said.

“How?” I asked. “The towns weren’t on dragon land and were in the middle of goddamn nowhere. How on earth could they be a threat to whomever is behind the destruction?”

“Maybe they weren’t a threat,” Damon said slowly. “Maybe they were simply, as Leith said, in the way.”

“What?” I said, frowning at him. Why did it suddenly feel that these two men had gone to a whole other place from me? “What do you mean?”

“I mean, aside from the town that was destroyed when Angus was young, the two towns were in the same state, and both were close to the borders of the Nevada clique.”

“And it would be interesting,” Leith mused, “to see what happened to the land those towns were sitting on, wouldn’t it?”

“Most definitely,” Damon agreed. “And it might also be worth checking whether the land between the clique and the towns has recently been sold—and to whom. You think you can get that information without setting off any alarms?”

“If the council hasn’t caught me yet, I doubt the real estate people will,” Leith said, voice dry. “I’ll get back to you as soon as I find anything. In the meantime, play it safe, you two.”

He hung up. I pushed up from the chair and walked across to the bench, grabbing my bag and dragging out the netbook. “Maybe I’m a little thick, but why would the land the towns are sitting on be so important that they’d kill for it?”

“It’s not just land, its territory. Unclaimed territory, technically.”

I frowned as the computer fired up. “But it’s not. As you said yourself, Nevada belongs to Hannish’s dad.”

“As a territory, yes. But the clique itself owns only a few thousand acres.”

“So you think Hannish might be buying up the land around his dad’s clique? To what end?”

Damon shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe he wants nothing more than to piss his father off.”

I glanced at him as the computer began downloading e-mail. “But you don’t believe that.”

“No.” He rose from the chair and walked over, stopping just behind me. His scent filled every breath, warm and delicious, making me tingle inside and out. “If they were only after land, they could have gone anywhere. There’s more to this than we’re seeing.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Like what?”

He shrugged and raised a hand, lightly running his fingers through my hair—which we’d dyed red when we first arrived at the apartment. I rather liked it, but Damon seemed to prefer my natural color. He was a man of strange taste.

“Think about it,” he said softly. “Julio hears rumors of a plot against the kings. Shortly after, his son—whom he named as his heir—is killed, and two large draman towns near clique grounds are wiped off the map. Now there’s news of Hannish Valorn suddenly returning.”

“We have no proof of a connection between Hannish’s return and the possible landgrab.”

“No, but it is logical, especially if Hannish is behind it all.”

“I’m still not understanding why.”

“Nevada is the smallest clique, landwise, and as such, has less say in the council.”

He said it patiently, like he were talking to a child, and it rankled. But I guess he had no idea just how little I knew about the inner workings of the dragon world. “I thought all kings were created equal?”

He snorted. “They might present a united front but, trust me, the council is ruled by territory. Why do you think the head of the council is usually from Montana, Wyoming, or North or South Dakota?”

Because they were the biggest cliques, obviously. “But Hannish has been cut off by his dad, so how would buying the land help the Nevada clique?”

“He might have been disowned, but officially he is still listed as the heir. So if something happened to Marcus, Hannish can step right into his shoes.”

I twisted around to stare at him. “Surely he wouldn’t kill his own dad?”

His smile touched his dark eyes and made them sparkle like diamonds. My heart did an odd little dance and desire stirred low down in my body. “Dragons have a long history of brothers killing brothers to claim the throne. In this case, Hannish’s only competition is the dad who disowned him. I don’t think he’ll have many qualms.”

“Wow. That’s pretty cold.” I clicked Leith’s e-mail as it came in, then added, “But what about the council?”

“If it’s done right, the council will have no choice but to accept the situation.”

“I still can’t see the twelve other cliques standing by and allowing someone like Hannish to make a landgrab and take over the council. Especially if they suspect Hannish took out his dad to get to the throne.”

“There is precedent for it. How else do you think Montana became one of the largest cliques?”

I shook my head in disbelief. But then, why I was surprised when I knew from experience just how cold and bloody-minded some dragons could be, I have no idea.

The pictures attached to Leith’s e-mail opened up. The first man appeared a few years older than me, and had dark red hair and a somewhat angular face. His blue eyes had a look that I’d seen a hundred times before—cold, inhuman, impassionate. A dragon who considered himself well above the rest of us.

I didn’t know him, but I knew the look. I’d seen it a thousand times in Seth’s eyes.

The other man had small brown eyes and a pinched, gaunt face. Recognition stirred, and so too did the ghost of fear. I might not recognize the name, but his face—although changed by time, weather, and what looked like repeated beatings—was certainly familiar.

“That one,” Damon said softly, pointing to the red-haired man, “is Hannish. I’m not sure about the other man.”

“His name when I knew him was Leon, not Jake.” I glanced over my shoulder and met his gaze. “And his best friend and lover was Seth.”

“From the fear I can taste, I take it Seth and Leon were the dragons who made your life so unpleasant?”

“Yes. And if Leon is involved, then Seth will be. The two are inseparable.” He might even be this Franco no one had a photo of.

Damon linked his fingers together and stretched them forward, cracking his knuckles. “It will be my very great pleasure to meet them both.”

I glanced at him. “And why would you want to punish someone for once beating up a current—and unimportant—bed partner?”

“Because dragons that size should know better than to pick on a woman of any size. Even if they do think they can protect themselves.”

I smiled at this light barb, then downsized the pics and opened the folder. Leith had been right. There wasn’t much more information in there than he’d already mentioned.

I sighed in frustration, then glanced out the window. There still wasn’t any life in or around the building, although—according to the neighbors—it opened at five, which was only a few minutes away. I would have thought someone would have had to come in earlier to set things up.

“Turn around for a moment.”

Damon’s voice held a low, sexy note that had my insides twisting. My smile grew and I did as he asked. We weren’t yet touching, but I could feel the heat radiating off him.

“We’re here to watch for our suspects. If we make love, that’s not going to happen. Even Death can’t attend to two things at once.” I paused, then added wryly, “And if you pay more attention to what’s out that window than to me, I’ll be most upset.”

He chuckled softly and reached into his pocket, drawing out a small wrapped package. “I actually just wanted to give you this. I saw it when I was out buying food.”

I stared at the package, a lump in my throat and more than a little dumbstruck, then met his gaze. “Why?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Do I need to have a reason?”

“Yes.”

He smiled and took my hand, opening my fingers and dropping the little box into it. “You really have had a rough upbringing if you’re suspicious of a simple gift.”

“You have no idea,” I muttered, turning the package around. It was roughly wrapped, and the Scotch tape was messy, but right then it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.

“Are you going to open it, or are you simply going to stare at it?”

I grinned and carefully undid the wrapping. The box inside was hard white cardboard, and looked like something that would hold jewelry. I lifted the lid carefully and discovered a necklace. The delicate gold chain was paired with a brushed gold-and-silver pendant that had a subtle lotus flower embossed on it.

“The lotus apparently symbolizes renewal, transformation, and new beginnings,” he said softly. “I thought it appropriate given everything that’s happened to you over the last few days.”

I lifted the necklace out of the box by the chain. The late afternoon light streaming in through the window glinted off the gossamer-fine metal. “It’s gorgeous,” I said, through the growing lump in my throat. This was the first time someone who wasn’t related had bought me something pretty, and that thought hurt so much I wanted to cry. “Thank you.”

“I thought it was a nice knickknack to start your new collection with.”

He took the necklace from me and motioned for me to turn around. I lifted my hair as I turned, and he put it on me. I was thankful that my back was to him—he couldn’t see the tears I was blinking furiously away.

“There,” he said, his fingers lingering against my neck. “Turn around again.”

I took a deep, somewhat shuddery breath, then faced him again, moving my fingers to the pendant and cupping it gently. “It’s gorgeous,” I repeated. “Thank you.”

He smiled then leaned forward, holding my cheeks between his hands and kissing me gently. “You’re welcome. I hope it brings you everything you want in life.”

“Me, too,” I said, and wished it could bring me him. Not just for a moment or two, but a whole lot longer. A lifetime longer.

But that was a wish a simple good-luck charm was never going to be able to produce.

I looked beyond him for a moment, trying to get hold of my emotions, and suddenly saw movement on the street below us. A car had pulled up, and a blue-suited man with dark brown hair and hawkish features stepped out.

“One of our targets just showed up,” I said, partly relieved, and partly irritated, by the interruption.

He spun around, the amusement and gentleness fading from his face as if it had never been there.

“That definitely looks like the man currently calling himself Jake.”

It certainly did. And watching him walk into the club left me in little doubt that it was actually Leon. He had that same leashed-beast amble. “What’s the plan, then?”

“We hit him straight away, before anyone else gets there.”

“He’s probably got security in there. If that place is regularly filled with lowlifes, they’re not going to be without twenty-four-hour protection.”

“Which is why we hit him hard and fast. You think you can cut the power?”

I gave him a wry grin. “Flicking a master switch isn’t exactly hard.”

“It is when there are security cameras on every corner.”

“There’s a minute-long gap between each sweep,” I said, then grinned at his surprised look. “My brother is something of a security expert. He taught me well.”

“A woman of many talents. I like it.” He glanced at his watch. “Give me ten minutes to get inside, then cut the power. That’ll drag Leon out of his hole and give me an easier chance of jumping him.”

“Death taking the easy road? That doesn’t seem right.”

He smiled. “I may do this job, but it doesn’t mean I have to make it harder than necessary.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s five sixteen. At five twenty-six, hit the switch.”

I checked my watch, then stepped forward and gave him a quick kiss. “You be careful in there. Leon won’t surrender easily.”

“And I’m trained to deal with far worse than him.” He caught my hand as I went to step away and dragged me back toward him, wrapping his arms around me and pressing me close. “And that was hardly a proper kiss.”

I raised an eyebrow, a grin teasing on my lips. “And what is that going to do to your ten-minute plan?”

“It included kissing time,” he murmured, then his lips met mine and there was no more talking, only enjoying.

Neither of us was breathing very steadily by the time the kiss finished. “We’ll have to continue that later,” he said, and lightly ran a knuckle down my cheek. “Better make that five twenty-nine. The kissing time ran over.”

My smile bloomed. “Death has no self-control. How sad.”

“Death has plenty of control. He’s not, for instance, racing you off to the bedroom, as he’d love to do right now.”

I clucked my tongue and let my gaze travel down his body and settle on his groin. “Is that going to cause problems?”

“Probably.” He glanced at his watch again. “Make it five thirty. Come through the back door.”

“Will do.”

He gaze dropped to my lips, then he muttered something under his breath and walked around me. Two seconds later he was out of the apartment, leaving me with a foolish grin and a happy heart.

I closed down the netbook and tucked it safely back into my bag, then walked into the bedroom and opened the closet, sorting through the owner’s clothes until I found a jacket with a hood. I pulled my hair into a ponytail, then pulled on the hood and headed out of the apartment.

Dusk was beginning to filter in, bringing with it glimmers of energy that raced across my skin. I breathed deep, drawing the evening’s fire into my lungs, reveling in the sensation of power flowing into my body. It made me wish for the open skies and wings to fly, but that was yet another wish that was never going to come true.

The street itself was pretty much deserted, but cars were moving down the main streets blocks away, and the drone of the traffic carried toward me on the breeze.

I ran across the road and kept to the shadows of the building, listening to the slight buzz of the cameras as they made their sweeps. I kept my head down and my hands in my pockets until I reached the corner. I hesitated underneath one of the cameras, knowing that while I couldn’t be seen by that one, I was still visible to the other two. I knew from our previous scouting missions that the breaker box was at the rear of the premises, while the back door was actually along this side of the building.

Several cars were parked along the street, but they’d been there most of the afternoon and I didn’t think they belonged to anyone already in the club. The camera was moving toward me again, so I moved on, only glancing up as I passed the door. It still appeared locked, so Damon obviously hadn’t gotten here yet.

I glanced at my watch. There were still a few minutes to go, so that wasn’t really surprising. But tension rolled through me anyway, and breathing deep didn’t do a lot to relieve it.

I kept walking, acutely aware of the tracking camera and trying to keep an eye out for anyone who might be paying anything more than cursory attention to what I was doing. No one was, but that didn’t help my nerves. Dragons might be born thieves, but it wasn’t something I’d practiced a lot—although my brother had insisted that I learn all the tricks of the trade, just in case journalism crashed and burned.

The camera began its track back up the street. I looked around the corner, saw that the camera on the far end was also going the other way, then quickly jumped the fence and raced for the electrical box. I glanced at my watch, then took off the cover and toggled the power off.

The cameras stopped moving. I put the cover back and bolted for the fence, leaping over it then walking back up the street.

The side door was open. I slipped inside and closed the door behind me, then stood there for several seconds, staring into the darkness and listening for any sound of movement.

The place was deathly quiet. I couldn’t even hear the ticking of a clock. I called to the fire within, and watched it flare bright across my fingertips, filling the shadows with its warmth. Leon would sense my presence whether or not I used the flames, so I could see no point in walking around in the dark. Still, I tempered the flames to a muted glow and walked forward, following a slightly musty-smelling passageway around to the right. It ended in a set of stairs with a door at the top.

The metal creaked under my weight and I paused, waiting to see if anyone responded. I couldn’t hear or feel anyone close, but that didn’t mean anything when you had senses as unreliable as mine could sometimes be. I wrapped my fingers around the handle, then doused the flames and slowly opened the door.

And heard the footsteps.

I froze, my breath stuttering to a halt. I flared my nostrils, trying to get a hint of who was approaching, but the only scent I could catch was the stench of stale cigarettes and alcohol.

I stepped into the room and let the door close, my fingers against the wood to prevent it from slamming. The footsteps were stealthy and moving away to the right. Though I was getting no scent, I sensed he was dragon. It wasn’t Damon, so it was either Leon or someone else.

Someone we hadn’t accounted for.

I bit my lip, torn between the sensible option of just getting out of there and the need to help Damon when I could. He might be muerte, he might be a killer, but he didn’t know Leon like I did. The man was a bastard, and a devious one at that.

And even a trained killer could die if he was shot in the back. Leon wouldn’t have any qualms about doing something like that.

I blew out a soft breath then carefully followed the steps, picking my way through stacks of furniture until I reached another doorway. I peered around carefully and saw the stranger. He was a dark-haired man with a thickset body and arms the size of tree trunks.

Not someone I wanted to tackle, no matter how well I thought I could protect myself.

And yet I couldn’t let him sneak up on Damon, either.

After a moment’s hesitation, I slipped out the doorway and pressed my back to the wall, creeping along after the stranger. The fires burned within me, ready to explode at the slightest provocation. Whether he sensed that, I don’t know, but suddenly he turned around, and I was staring into eyes as flat and as dead as stone.

I flicked my fingers outwards, releasing my fire. It streamed forward, burning across the air, splitting into several ribbons before swirling around him, encasing him in flames.

But I didn’t need to do any more than that, because Damon was coming. I could feel him—a presence whose heat burned somewhere deep inside me.

Then the guard laughed. It was a cruel, harsh sound. He touched the flames with a finger, drawing then into his body, feeding on them.

“You’ll have to do better than that, love,” he said.

“She has no need to,” said a familiar voice from the shadows. Damon appeared, chopping with one hand at the guard, who dropped to the floor, his hands grasping at his neck, making a strange gurgling sound in his throat. I realized that his larynx had been crushed, and that I was looking at a dead man.

My gaze rose and met Damon’s. His eyes were as flat as the stranger’s had been a moment ago, and yet they chilled me far more.

“Suffocation isn’t a nice way to go, Damon.”

Something flickered in the dark depths, then he stepped forward. With a quick flick of his hands, he broke the man’s neck, killing him swiftly.

“Your soft heart is going to get you into trouble one day,” he said, turning around and walking back up the hallway, not bothering to wait for me.

“I think it already has,” I muttered.

I kept my gaze on his broad shoulders, determinedly not looking at the guard’s broken body. He might have deserved it, and he probably would have done a whole lot worse to me, but it didn’t alter the fact that he was dead and that I’d played a part.

Somewhere deep inside, I couldn’t help wishing that neither Rainey nor I had started down this path.

And yet, if we hadn’t, there was no telling where this would end, or how many more draman and dragons would have to die before the people behind it were satisfied.

I followed Damon through the next door, into what turned out to be the bar’s main room. The front windows were blacked out, but four skylights allowed the fading sunlight to filter in. It wasn’t enough, leaving a room that was gloomy and reeking of smoke and alcohol. Modern artwork lined the grimy walls, and tables and chairs were scattered haphazardly around. A small dance floor had been squeezed into a far corner, but it was obvious that dancing wasn’t a priority here. The fourth wall was dominated by a long wooden bar, behind which were shelves lined with bottles and glasses.

Leon was stretched out on the bar, tape over his mouth and his hands tied by wiring that looped around his neck. A trick Damon was fond of, apparently.

He walked over toward the bar, his footsteps barely audible on the old wooden floor. Mine echoed, filling the silence.

Damon stopped in front of the man currently calling himself Jake and ripped the tape from his mouth. The swearing began instantly, and even though I’d heard it all before, my eyebrows rose. Leon had certainly become creative when it came to combining expletives.

I stopped several yards behind Damon, close enough to see what was going on but far enough to stay out of the way.

“Enough,” Damon said, voice flat and quiet, and yet somehow easily heard over the other man’s expostulations.

“Do you know who you’re fucking with?” Leon snarled.

Goose bumps prickled down my spine, and it was all I could do not to step back in fear. But that fear belonged to the past and I would not give in to it now.

“I know your real name is Leon, and I know you’re dead if you don’t cooperate. Everything else I intend to find out,” Damon said. “And I’d appreciate it if you cut the swearing. We do have a lady present.”

Leon looked at me, and it left me in no doubt that he not only recognized me, but that he’d kill me given half the chance. “I can’t see a lady, but I can see one fine fucking whore.”

Damon hit him. Hard.

Leon spat out some blood and teeth, then said, “What do you want?”

“Answers,” Damon said, and lightly touched the other man’s shoulder. His fingers began to glow, but it wasn’t caused by internal heat. He was stealing Leon’s.

Leon swore and began to struggle, the wire around his neck starting to cut into his skin. He didn’t seem to care. Damon pushed down on his hand, pressing the other man’s shoulder into the bar’s surface, forcing him to be still. “Stop, or I’ll break it.”

“Then keep your thieving hands to yourself, you bastard!”

“If you behave, and if you answer my questions, you’ll keep your heat. If not—”

He didn’t finish the threat. He didn’t need to. Neither Leon nor I were in any doubt as to what he meant, although I certainly had doubts as to whether Leon would actually survive this encounter anyway.

“What do you want to know?” It was sullenly said, but the fire in Leon’s brown eyes suggested he’d far from given up. Yet the Leon from my past knew when to fight and when to roll over, and his bravado here just didn’t sit right.

The tension in Damon’s body suggested he thought the same. “Tell me about the draman towns you’ve been destroying.”

Leon snorted. “Even if I was aware of such a thing happening, what would it matter to you? Draman are nothing more than parasites living off the riches of the cliques.”

“Draman do all the dirty work,” I cut in. “And we’re responsible for the day-to-day running of the cliques. You need us, even if you won’t admit it.”

Damon gave me a warning look, then pressed his hand down harder, fingers glowing. This time a hiss of air escaped Leon’s lips. “Do not play games with me, Leon. We know you’re involved. We know Seth and Hannish are also involved. And you will answer our questions or I will ensure a fate far worse than death befalls you.”

Sweat popped out along Leon’s forehead and his skin began to get a drawn, ashen look. It wasn’t dangerous, not yet, but it was evidence enough that Damon meant what he said.

“All right, I’ll cooperate.”

And despite the desperate edge in his words, I could taste the lie. Something was going on here—something we didn’t understand.

“Then tell me why you’re destroying the draman towns.”

“We were paid to. The Nevada king wanted the parasites away from his boundaries, and when they refused to move, he acted.”

It all sounded perfectly reasonable—or as reasonable as dragon culture sometimes got. And yet I didn’t believe him. He might have had his reasons, but they weren’t the ones he was currently quoting.

“Marcus Valorn would not have ordered such destruction, so quit the lies and give me the truth.”

Leon’s dark eyes narrowed. “Why would a muerte be worried about what’s happening to a few small draman towns in Nevada?”

“If it was only draman being destroyed, perhaps I wouldn’t be. But a king’s son was killed in one of the incidents, and that’s a whole different kettle of fish.”

Leon absorbed that news with barely a flicker of his eyelids. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Like hell he didn’t. Damon obviously thought the same, because the glow around his fingers flared again.

Leon screamed. “He saw Hannish! We had no choice.”

“So he is behind the push to take over the Nevada clique and make it one of the largest?”

Again, there was little reaction, but the sudden flash of fear riding the air spoke volumes. “Why would Hannish want that? He and his dad aren’t even on speaking terms.”

“But if Marcus suddenly dies, Hannish steps in as king. And with his recent land purchases, he suddenly becomes large enough—and powerful enough—to take over as head of the council.”

Damon’s voice was matter-of-fact, like we had all the pieces of the puzzle in hand when in truth it was little more than guesswork.

“Why would Hannish be stupid enough to kill his king? The council wouldn’t look kindly on such a deed.”

“The council has been known to turn a blind eye, especially if other cliques back the move.”

Leon snorted. “And in what world is that likely to happen? The cliques I know wouldn’t support a murdering upstart.”

“They would if some of them were also controlled by other murdering upstarts.” Damon raised an eyebrow. “Just when does Seth plan to kill his king?”

Leon didn’t answer. Damon glanced at me. “You want to go up to his office and sort through his paperwork? It’s through the door to the left of the bar, and up the stairs.”

In other words, things were about to get a whole lot messier down here, and I probably wouldn’t want to see it. He was right about that. Feeling little sympathy for Leon, and half wishing it were Seth lying there, I turned and walked through the open door at the end of the bar.

As I did so, Leon screamed. I closed my eyes for a second, part of me savoring the sound and part of me hating it. Because in many ways, it made us no better than those men, and that was a vile realization. Even if we were doing it in the name of justice.

And yet, if we didn’t, more would suffer. And all those people who died in Stillwater and Desert Springs would not be alone in roaming the netherworld between this existence and the next.

Thankfully, the screams didn’t follow me up the stairwell. I lit a flame across my fingertips, the light penetrating the darkness just enough to see. The old metal stairs were grimy and creaked under the weight of each step. The door at the top was also metal, although dented and holed in several places. Evidence, perhaps, of unhappy customers or deals gone bad.

I opened the door cautiously, keeping to one side until I was absolutely sure no one else was inside. The room was as dingy as the rest of the place, and again smelled heavily of cigarette smoke. A large desk dominated the middle of the room and the walls were adorned with bulletin boards. There were several windows directly opposite the doorway, but these had been boarded up. Leon obviously had some pretty nasty enemies if he felt the need to avoid sunlight, especially given that it was the fuel for a dragon’s flames.

But then, maybe Leon relied more on his brawn and human weapons than his flames to protect himself.

I walked behind the desk and sat down on the old leather office chair. The desk was a mess. Loose papers sat in various unwieldy stacks among the Coke cans, take-out wrappings, and several overflowing ashtrays. I wrinkled my nose at the moldy, smoky smell, then grabbed the nearest stack and began sifting through it. It was nothing more than bills and other business stuff. The remaining stacks proved to be more of the same.

I tried the drawers next, and found his wallet in the top one. A quick investigation uncovered three driver’s licenses and eight credit cards, all in different names, none of them Leon’s. Seth was probably also using numerous aliases, which is why Leith had been unable to track him.

I tossed it back and continued searching the drawers. Other than a cache of weapons that included knives as well as guns, there didn’t seem to be anything of interest.

But maybe Damon already knew that. Maybe his intent in sending me up here was nothing more than a need to get me out of the way.

I leaned back in the chair and studied the room again. My gaze fell on one of the bulletin boards, and there, right in front of my eyes, was the information I’d been looking for.

It was a map of Nevada.

Excitement surged and I leaped to my feet. Six towns had been ringed, five of them crossed out. Two of those five were the erased towns we knew about. The remaining one was a little place called Red Rock—not a place I’d heard of, but that wasn’t surprising given these places were basically little more than bumps in the road that few people would drive past, let alone visit.

Along with the ringed and crossed-out towns were what looked to be boundary markings. The lands owned by the Nevada clique were shaded in black, but there were huge tracts of land between it and the towns that were either shaded in or marked by a red or yellow pin. I couldn’t see a legend of any kind, but if Damon’s theory was right, then those markings represented land already bought, being purchased, or wanted. If they succeeded in getting everything that was marked, then they’d own a sizeable chunk of land. It would certainly rival that of the three largest cliques, and would make Nevada the largest once the land was combined.

I searched the drawers again until I found two different colored pens, then set about replacing the pins with colored dots. With that done, I took down the map, folded it up and shoved it in my pocket. It was a start.

I continued searching, but I didn’t see anything else that stood up and waved a clue. I couldn’t find any sort of legal document—especially not anything relating to land purchases. Nor was there anything to suggest that Leon was working with anyone else.

But he had to be. Leon wasn’t the voice I’d heard when I’d been half drugged, and Angus had referred to that man as the “boss.”

Besides, Leon had always been the brawn, not the brain.

Which meant there had to be something else here. Frowning, I stood with my hands on my hips, studying the room and wondering what I was missing. It wasn’t possible that someone so involved in this mess would have nothing more than a map in his main office.

Presuming this was his main area of work, of course.

I scanned the walls again, looking for anything that might be hiding a safe. But there was nothing.

Frowning, I turned around, looking at the placement of the furniture. I couldn’t see him going to the effort of dragging out filing cabinets every time he wanted to get something out or put something in a safe. But a drinks cabinet had definite possibilities.

I walked over and opened a couple of doors. There were several racks of glasses and bottles of alcohol, but nothing that couldn’t be easily shifted. And despite the fact that the cabinet was both heavy and old, it wouldn’t be that hard to move. Not for a dragon.

I shoved my weight against one edge and forced the cabinet away from the wall. Sure enough, there was a safe behind it. I squatted, studying the lock. It wasn’t particularly up to date, and even if it had been, it wouldn’t have stopped a determined dragon. Or a half-dragon.

I cracked my knuckles, then set to work and had it open in a couple of minutes—almost triple the time my brother would have taken, but then he was a professional. I just played at it occasionally.

I opened the door. Inside sat several manila folders, some bulging with papers, others not.

I grabbed them all, shut the door and tumbled the locks closed, then moved the cabinet back. I grabbed the map, shoved it on top of the folders, then headed back down the stairs.

Leon wasn’t moving. His skin was ashen, a sharp contrast to Damon, who seemed to positively glow.

“What are you going to do with him?” I stopped several yards away and studied Leon’s chest. He was breathing, so he wasn’t dead, and I wasn’t sure whether to be happy about that or not. If anyone deserved to die, it was him. But if he was killed, then people would know, and that was the one thing we needed to avoid. “We can’t afford to leave him here alive, and we can’t risk taking him with us.”

“Which is why I’ll be flying him out to sea.”

And Leon wouldn’t be flying back, if the angle of his arm was anything to go by. He’d drown, because few dragons were good swimmers and Leon was worse than most. His death would be long and pain-filled, and I really couldn’t get upset about that, if only because we needed as much time as possible before Seth realized his lover was dead.

But his death was one of the ones I needed to save Rainey.

“I found a safe filled with paperwork,” I said, “and a map that might prove useful if we can find the key.”

“Good. Go back to the apartment and sort though those papers. I’ll be back by seven.”

Meaning he was going to fly Leon a long way out to sea. “Be careful.”

He gave me a smile that made my insides curl, but his eyes were still hard. Still doing the job, still concentrating on the kill, even if he hadn’t yet killed.

“Keep an eye on the windows, Mercy, and see who else comes into the club.”

I nodded, then turned and headed out. Once back in the apartment, I made myself coffee then settled down to read the paperwork. I started with the thinner folders, but it wasn’t until I was on my third cup and had started in on the fattest of the folders that I found something.

And it was the one thing I didn’t want to find.

The town of Red Rock was slated for destruction.

In less than six hours’ time.